Himmat Bhaiyya
Madhurima Devi was smiling when she entered the sunroom where her husband was sitting. It was not a good sign, Sangram Singh thought.
‘Where were you all these days?’ His voice was low but it was clear that he was in a high dudgeon.
‘Oh, here and there. Visiting my sisters and friends. Having a good time.’
‘How did you leave without my permission?’
‘I am about to leave you for good now. Whether you give me permission or not.’
‘You’re not going anywhere.’
‘Please don’t shout. My sisters are waiting outside and might get alarmed.’
‘What are they doing here?’ Sangram Singh lowered his voice to a whisper.
‘They are taking me away for good. But I thought I owed it to you to explain a few things before I took off.’
‘I take the decisions here, not you.’
Madhurima Devi shook her head and waved her right index finger at him. ‘You are shouting again.’
‘I don’t give a damn what they think of me.’
‘Oh, but you do. Don’t you want them to think that you are a highly cultured Oil Baron?’
Sangram Singh was about to grab Madhurima Devi by the throat but he suddenly paled.
‘You see, I know who you are not, but I don’t know who you are. If you don’t listen to me quietly, I may take the trouble to find out, just as I got to the bottom of what happened to Raat Rani and Prince Parbat Singh.’
‘Are you blackmailing me?’ His voice was low thunder.
‘Why would I do that? I came all the way to lay my cards on the table. It’s now seven years since we got married. I was warned that your story about coming from an upper-crust industrial family and having studied at Harvard was hogwash. You were, they said, nothing but an upstart. I didn’t listen to all those rumours about you. I so wanted to believe you. I was going to turn Kantagiri into a paradise.’
‘Where’s all this leading? I took pity on you and married you. And never stopped regretting it.’
‘Thank you, but if our marriage was meant to be a rescue operation, one was better off un-rescued.’
‘Shut up, you old cow, you couldn’t even give me a son.’
‘I’m coming to that. I gave you, let me not forget, in the second year of our marriage, a lovely princess. The delivery was a difficult one since I was, as you so felicitously put it, an old cow of thirty-five and slightly overweight at that. I looked at my daughter and felt blessed. You came to my room in the hospital, glanced at the girl and said, “What a wasted nine months.”
‘I don’t know what transpired after the fourth day since I began to bleed profusely but when I recovered consciousness nearly a week later and came home, I was told my daughter was no more. How could that be, I kept asking myself. She was perfectly healthy. Her death destroyed something vital in me, call it hope or faith, maybe both. It was not a happy time but a year later I was pregnant again. And again I produced a girl. You were never one to dissemble your feelings in the matter. You made it clear that I was a drain on the Paar coffers and an unforgivable failure.
‘I had suspected that something wasn’t quite right about our first daughter’s death and kept the second one within sight every minute. But of course I would doze off after lunch and certainly after dinner. In no time she too had gone to her nameless grave. I suspected it but last year my suspicions were confirmed by the dai. Both my daughters were poisoned by their father.’
‘The dai is lying. I will have her…’
‘Will have what? Have her eliminated like my daughters?’
‘Your milk, the doctors said, was poisoned and was responsible for killing your daughters.’
‘Oh my God, is that right? I am the poison? Then I am so glad I did what I did.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I prayed to Prathama Devi night and day to give me a son and heir. When I finally conceived, I went to the doctors and had them take an ultrasound. The Devi had granted me my wish. It was a male child. The foetus was four months when I had it aborted.’
‘You’re lying, you bitch. I will kill you if there’s any truth in what you say.’
‘But isn’t it better that our son died,’ Madhurima was whispering again, ‘before I could poison him with my milk as you tell me?’
‘Show me the ultrasound, bitch. If what you say is true, you are dead. And I hope your two sisters are listening to me.’
‘I didn’t realize you would find it so hard to believe me. Otherwise, I would have got the ultrasound report. On the other hand, maybe some mysteries are best unresolved and you will never know whether I bore you a son or not.’
He was sobbing now. ‘Tell me you didn’t. That’s not something any mother would do.’
‘Oh yes, they do it all the time. Only difference is they do it to their daughters. One last thing, do you remember what my father told you when we were about to take his leave? “As with my other daughters, Madhurima too has been given a substantial inheritance. It is in her name and not yours because it’s not a dowry.”
‘Despite his words, you forged my signature and kept withdrawing money even though your signature never quite matched mine. You took money and you killed my beautiful daughters. Now I want you to return every single rupee you stole from me. And don’t forget my jewellery. I need hardly add, you will give me a divorce plus a very substantial alimony.
‘Think about it. If you don’t agree, I will go public and give them a hint of your heroic deeds. It will be one hell of story: a brave Rajput who crippled his master and did him out of hearth, home and life. Or I could tell them about how you locked his mistress in a dungeon when she discovered that you had tipped the Prince’s wheelchair over the stairs and that’s how she came to hang herself from sheer desperation. And finally how you poisoned your own daughters. Everything, but everything, will spill out.’
‘Where’s your daughter?’ As usual Sangram Singh dispensed with the small talk. He rarely dropped in on Jasoda and when he did, it was invariably after eleven in the night.
‘In her room, studying for her finals.’
‘Maybe she’s talking to one of her numerous boyfriends instead of studying.’
‘Maybe she is. What’s it to you?’
‘How would you know what she’s up to?’
‘Because I’m her mother and I look out for her just in case someone,’ she stressed that last word and let it sink in, ‘casts an evil eye upon her.’
Sangram Singh laughed wryly. ‘Maybe it’s high time to look for a groom for her.’
‘I know my Janhavi. She has high ambitions.’
‘High ambitions like this?’ He pulled out a photograph of a man with grey hair talking animatedly to Janhavi. Something was not quite right. The angle between the two was wrong and clearly doctored.
Jasoda sneered. ‘You think my Janhavi would chase an elderly man?’
‘Not just an elderly man, she chases anything on two legs.’
‘Give me the photograph. I’ll go and ask her.’
‘As if she’s going to confess. How naïve can you get?’ Sangram Singh made as if to get up and then sat down again. ‘I’ve brought a proposal from a fine old family. As luck would have it, the young man is in the same class as her. And here’s the best part – he’s besotted with her. I hear he draws circles around her on his Harley Davidson.’
‘Oh, I know that boy. He’s that corporator’s son. He comes over when Janhavi throws a party.’
‘Your daughter throws parties?’
‘Sure. And I feed the lot.’
‘The choice is simple: an honourable marriage offer or a daughter who brings disgrace to her family.’
‘Any talk of marriage and her brother will be down the next day.’
‘Why should anyone tell him?’
‘She certainly will.’
‘Not if you manage things well.’
Jasoda looked at Sangram Singh with contempt. ‘You don’t
know Janhavi. Force her and she is like a tigress on the rampage. Come what may, she’ll never give up her studies.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t dream of coercion of any sort. Quite the contrary. We’ll tame her into submission by subscribing to everything she wants.’
‘I don’t follow you.’
‘Leave that to me. Question is, are you willing to meet the parents of that boy?’
‘No, I will not do anything behind Janhavi’s back. Besides, why are you so interested in getting Janhavi married?’
‘Because … some things are best not spelt out.’
Pawan was still the same. He breezed in and, before you knew it, breezed out. Often he came with a couple of suitcases full of presents for his sister, Kishen and his mother. It was always hit-or-miss since he had no sense of size and many a time the expensive silk salwar-kameezes for Janhavi were either too small or far too big. The saris for his mother, needless to say, were always the right size but she hardly ever wore them because she had still not made the switch from ghagra-cholis. Kishen was the lucky one since Pawan and he were more or less the same size. There were times, however, when he came empty-handed and looking gaunt, and Jasoda would ask him if he needed any money and he would shake his head and scotch any further conversation by saying, ‘What for? I am doing just fine.’
The last time he had come home, Jasoda had tried to pin him down. ‘Why don’t you come and join our hotel business? I doubt if Himmat will ever come back except on flying visits and anyway his kind of maths has nothing to do with our cash transactions. As for Janhavi, she insists she wants to study further. Maybe she will but she will get married some day and make a life with her husband.’
‘What about Kishen? He seems to have a knack for the job.’
‘That’s true. He’s progressed a lot and he’s nobody’s fool. But there’s no getting away from the damage he suffered during childbirth. Come and join me, Pawan. The business is doing all right but we need to invest and expand. I was thinking we should build a hotel and if that does well, there’s no end to how far we can go. Maybe the next step will be a five-star place for those rich people who buy a crown of gold for Prathama Devi, banking on her increasing their wealth a thousand times over. What do you say, beta?’
‘You know me, Maa. A rolling stone, that’s me. But let me give it a think till tomorrow. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll change and take you up on your offer.’
Jasoda shook her head. She should have known better. Pawan would never displease her but he would go his own way. He was gone the next day.
‘Two visits within a fortnight? That’s some kind of record considering you didn’t remember to drop by for God knows how many years.’ Jasoda had had a long and tiring day and wasn’t looking forward to a nocturnal visit from her husband as she opened the door. He used to cut a dashing figure and dress spiffily when he was making out to be an oil baron. She wondered if the rumours about his financial troubles were true, for he was looking scruffy and unshaven.
‘Are you going to let me in or would you rather that we talked in the corridor?’ Sangram Singh asked gruffly.
Jasoda told Kishen to go to his room as she led Sangram Singh to the drawing room.
‘I could do with a drink.’
‘I’m sure. But all I can offer you is tea, coffee, lassi, sweet lime or an orange juice.’
‘Is this your notion of hospitality now that you own a chain of restaurants?’
‘This is my home. No one drinks here. So what will you have?’
‘I’ll skip the baby drinks. But how about giving me ten lakhs?’
‘It’s late and I am too tired to be playing games.’
‘No game this. I am in serious financial trouble. They have found oil but nowhere near what their initial studies claimed. They are certain they will find it but it might take some time. Plus, my wife Madhurima Devi is blackmailing me. I need ten lakhs to tide me over this difficult period. I assure you I’ll pay everything back. I’ll even give you a promissory note.’
‘Let me understand this. You are asking me for ten lakhs?’
‘Yes, that’s the idea.’
‘We are hoping to start another Tamarind Mantra. Whatever we’ve got is already committed.’
‘Why don’t you just tell me the truth – that you don’t wish to help me?’
‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe I wouldn’t have parted with a single rupee even if I had had the money.’
‘I’ve got something for you.’
Jasoda was immediately wary. ‘I don’t need anything.’
‘But you do. It might turn out to be an education.’ Sangram Singh dipped into his shirt pocket and pulled out a photograph.
‘Oh no, not another photograph.’
‘Here.’ He thrust the photo into Jasoda’s hand. ‘You might find this interesting.’
Janhavi was kissing a young man while sitting on the ancient fort wall behind the dense forest that bordered the college.
Jasoda had to admit that because of Himmat’s insistence on taking over the education of his sister, she had not kept a close watch on what she was up to. Janhavi had never let her down but here she was now, not merely talking to a young man but kissing him. How many others had she been carrying on with? Jasoda remembered the garden in Mumbai. The moment twilight began to lose ground, all the young men and women were necking and fumbling and groping just behind the parapet. Many of them climbed down on to the rocks. You knew exactly what they had been up to as they climbed back over the parapet, the young women hurriedly buttoning up their blouses and running their hands over their dishevelled hair. But that was Mumbai, where men and women mingled and, barring the overzealous policemen, nobody cared unless the girl got pregnant.
Pregnant. Was Janhavi pregnant? No. No no no no no no. Sharana might have grown but it was still an old-fashioned, gossipy town where everybody was always poking their noses into each other’s lives. Oh, how they rejoiced when there was a scandal. Everybody suddenly turned holier than thou and became pillars of society. Jasoda knew of instances when they had literally chased young couples out of town. She should have put her foot down and told Himmat to stay behind and make sure that his sister stayed on the straight and narrow. Instead, he had gone to America and got himself a white woman. Maybe they weren’t even married. Jasoda had heard that living in sin was quite normal there.
All night long Jasoda couldn’t sleep. She had begun to dread her husband’s visits. It seemed that their sole purpose was to sow doubt and fear in her mind about her daughter. That photograph wasn’t lying. She had been too trusting. From the outset her husband had made it clear that he didn’t want any girls. Nothing unusual about that. Everybody knew that girls were a huge burden. Even when you gave a substantial dowry, it was almost taken for granted that the groom and his folks would keep demanding more and more money long after the marriage had been consummated.
What Jasoda also knew was that over the years Janhavi had become just a means for Sangram Singh to get at Himmat. Father and son could not stand the sight of each other. She knew what her husband was like. He had a long memory and he nursed grudges. Himmat had fallen foul of his father on at least two occasions: the first time when Sangram Singh had talked of abandoning Janhavi on some remote railway platform and the second time when he had offered Himmat a job and Himmat had refused to take it. He had threatened to reveal Sangram Singh’s past. Himmat had always seen through his father, even when he was a child. He had watched silently as the head of the house had abandoned his family.
Jasoda had to admit that her husband had an unerring feel for the vulnerable spot in his enemies. He knew instantly that he would not have to hurt Himmat directly. All he had to do was get at Janhavi. It would be like killing two birds with one stone.
Her first priority was to find out more about the proposal that her nocturnal visitor had brought. As part-owner of a chain of restaurants, Jasoda had access to one of the best grapevines in the city. Sangram Singh was right, the Rathod family cert
ainly came from good stock though it had fallen on lean times. The best part was that their town Bhaktipur was just twenty-one kilometres from Sharana. It would be foolhardy to talk to her daughter about marriage since she knew from experience how explosive her reaction to the subject could be. Nevertheless, and in a roundabout fashion, she tried to sound Janhavi out.
‘I know what you are leading up to, Maa. I don’t want to get married like most of the girls from my class and become a baby-making factory. Now before you blow up, I am not suggesting that I don’t want to have children ever. All that will happen in good time.’
‘I don’t trust you any more,’ Jasoda blurted, pulling out the photograph of Janhavi kissing the young man.
‘Oh Maa, that was just on a dare. Some of my friends challenged me to kiss him and I did and got a hundred rupees for it. There was nothing more to it. No, as a matter of fact there’s definitely more. I am appalled that my own mother would stoop so low as to employ someone to keep track of what her daughter was up to. How long has this detective been following me?’
’I didn’t hire anyone. Someone showed me the picture.’
‘A likely story.’
‘Maybe it’s time to get you hitched. Once you are betrothed, my responsibility’s over. After that you are free to do whatever you and your husband decide.’
‘Don’t even think of it, Maa. I want to study, not become a bride and toady up to my mother-in-law and my hubby. Haanji, nahiji. Yes Ma’am, no Ma’am. You look for a groom for me and I am gone, you understand? G-O-N-E.’
Jasoda was discovering all over again that her daughter had a temper. She opened her mouth to speak but Janhavi had stomped out.
Sangram Singh was standing in the corridor with two suitcases. Jasoda had the uncanny feeling that he had timed his arrival carefully to coincide with her departure for work. As a matter of fact she was sure he had been waiting outside in the corridor for some time without ringing the bell.
‘What are you doing here?’ Her voice was cold.
‘Moving in bag and baggage.’ His voice was full of fake gaiety.