Murmur of the Lonely Brook (4 page)

Their meeting went like the dance of a bird-of-paradise trying to impress the female with his prowess and poses. Pravin had seen the world a bit more than the average man of his age. He listed his accomplishments with flair but also added colors. Nisha was all ears. Here, the world was small and imagination did not have wings like in the city; the harsh reality of life was overpowering. Moreover, marriage was fixed, based on wealth more than the age or physical qualities of the groom.

Nisha knew that very soon her parents would marry her off. There was talk from a family in the same village. She knew the man was in his late thirties and quite serious. Pravin was young, came from an average family, but was honest and straight. She had seen a movie recently and the romance in it touched her. A line she liked from the movie said, “For every person there is someone waiting somewhere.” It was as if another world existed between a man and woman, a world that was different from what she had known so far. In the movies, the man never behaved like a God and the woman never treated him like one. Nisha was surprised—it was a bit shocking for her, too. Her mouth opened in awe as she saw the couple dance together—in her village, the men and the women danced in their respective groups, and only during festivals and special occasions. But there the couple was dancing freely in the gardens and meadows. And they exchanged words of love she never imagined existed. She knew this was all wrong and only happened in movies. She remembered her friend who told her once that the world of movies was much different from real life. She tried to hide her face during the intimate scenes, but her friends nudged her and whispered to behave normally. It was a big embarrassment for her to see such things with men seated nearby. She also felt a rush of warmth diffuse through her body. First she thought she was in fever but it passed away slowly. At night, she was restless—she could not sleep and only felt calm after a long shower. She knew her friends at college always discussed boys but so far, she had never even looked at anyone. She was not shy, but to her, a man could only mean one thing to a girl and she was confident that someone would find her someday. Her parents had chosen a guy in her village for her to marry, but she wanted to go beyond her native hills to find someone—to some far away place with new terrain, new trees, new birds, and new faces.

After a few more meetings between them, Pravin was more confident. He was growing impatient as his final exams were drawing close. He looked at Nisha and asked, “Is it okay for you to run away with me?”

Nisha was not surprised, as this was quite common. It was as good as marriage. The only issue was she wouldn’t be able to visit her parents unless they consented to the marriage and this sometimes took years. Her uncle married in a similar fashion and it was only after eleven years—a long time after her nephew and niece were born—that their marriage was officially celebrated.

She sensed adventure but in a straight face asked, “Will your parents accept me, and will they treat me well?”

“Sure, they will. You can trust me to convince them,” Pravin said reassuringly.

“Is your mother an angry person…will your sister like me?”

Pravin smiled again.

“And do you have a TV in your house?”

“Yes, we do.” He did not mention that Ria controlled the remote.

“So, when is your plan to marry?” she asked.

“I will go back home after my exams. I will speak with my parents and inform you about the date. But be prepared. I cannot wait for long.”

Parvati, Pravin’s mother, welcomed Nisha with a gold necklace and two bangles. She had hoped for a big festival, as this was the first marriage in the house. But she felt good, as everyone liked Nisha and told her she was lucky that her son picked a bride like her. Shevak remained silent but blessed the bride. A few relatives came and the women sang age-old folk songs. Parvati made poltu (a fried pancake) and meat for all. Diwakar played music from his cell phone. Ria sat close to Nisha and kept looking at her. In the evening the whole family sat together and had dinner. After dinner, Shevak left for his room while the brothers went to watch TV. Parvati sat with Nisha and asked about her home, her parents, and her village. She praised her long hair and fair complexion. Nisha blushed and then chatted with Ria for a while.

Pravin thought about the first night. He had taken time to tell her about all the people who came, relatives, friends, and neighbors. He singled out his brother Diwakar and asked her to take care of him. He mentioned his father, Shevak, and his temper. Earlier they had gone to the temple to seek blessings from Devta and the smaller gods. Both stood at the window and looked at the stars. Pravin drew her close. He could smell the sweet scent of her oil and perfume. So far, during all their meetings, they had only spoken, never touched each other, not even held hands. Pravin ran his nose against her neck and she felt his strong hands. She responded with a short kiss and both made way for the bed. Pravin knew it was the first time for both but he had some knowledge from adult films he had seen. He thought of guiding her. But men had nothing to teach women.

For the hill people, life was still primeval, uncomplicated, simple, and basic. Intellect did not rule over instinct. There was no sweet talk, foreplay, or pretension. The overpowering innocence of the mountains, which stood tall and aloof, still retained its control over the minds of the people. Both sought to appease a basic hunger, without any sophistication or civilized pretense. Unquenched fires, long smoldering, gave way to flames. Winds called the clouds, clouds gave birth to rain, raindrops grouped and formed a spring. The spring ran down forming a river and the river ran in torrents touching stones lying untouched for millions of years and then it met the sea; waves formed, splashed the beaches, and the wind receded and the sea was calm. A thousand stars blinked in delight.

Both lay drained and sweating. Nisha felt pain but it was not unbearable. The pleasure was immense and overriding. She looked at Pravin, who was breathing heavily. In the excitement, she had dug her nails into his shoulders and knew it hurt him. She came close and rested her head on his shoulders. After a while, she kissed him. It acted like fuel on burning embers and soon both were aroused again. It went on until the early hours of the morning and then both slept, exhausted.

***

Pravin woke up early. The morning sun came in through the window. In the morning, Peo was a quiet town. The hustle and bustle of daytime was missing. He could listen to a distant gong coming from the monastery. He made tea and woke up Mamaji.

Mamaji sipped his tea and took out a piece of paper and scribbled a few numbers and addresses. He gave them to Pravin and said, “You need to call these people and make an appointment. Also, do not forget to tell them that I have given you their number.”

Mamaji took a shower and was soon on his way to work. Pravin thought of calling Nisha but decided to call later. He had a long day ahead. He took a shower, dressed, and checked his papers. He made two pancakes and had them with some pickle. Soon he was on the road.

Chapter 4

It was one of those crisp mornings. There was no rain and the blue sky promised a bright clear day. Diwakar walked down to the river, crossed it, and went along the pathway to the fields. He was up early and had told Shevak he would take the cows out. But he did not tell him his plans for the day. Last night he had formed a team with three of his friends for fishing trout. This was a very common sport, only this time Diwakar planned it for Nisha; he wanted to impress her.

The four friends walked along the edge of the field. Diwakar carried peanuts and a few apples in his pocket. There was chill in the morning air but they were accustomed to the cold. The sun was up, but the peaks would not allow it to spread its magic for some time yet. The river flowed below them and could be heard crawling against the boulders. A hundred years back the river was much wider at this place and there was a large lake where the village now stands. People used to build houses on the slopes. But the river made its own way cutting between the peaks and formed a deep gorge. It moved, leaving a fertile patch of land, and soon folks moved there.

Diwakar looked at the small sandbank across the river. He could see a few white wagtails hopping around, their tails wagging every now and then. The bank, now small, expanded in size during winter when the river flowed like a narrow snake. The bank also served as the cremation ground for the village. He remembered that Teté (grandfather) was burned there. He was carried in a special bed tied to two logs. Before the cremation, Teté was given a full bath. Aama and many other women sang sad songs. One man from each family came with a piece of log and they all walked with him. Women were not allowed. Someone arranged the logs and Teté was placed on top. Aau and the uncles performed puja. Diwakar was quite young and cried when they ignited the logs. He stood with his aaté at the far end. Though Pravin was quiet he could see tears in his eyes too. Someone sharpened a log with an axe. Aau took it and drove it straight into the skull of Teté.

Diwakar was shocked. He clutched his brother’s shirt and asked, “Why is he hitting him?”

“He must break the skull, or else Teté’s soul will not escape to heaven and will remain trapped. He will become a ghost and live in a tree forever.”

Though he had heard stories about ghosts, Diwakar was too young to understand the meaning of soul. For him, the presence of his Teté was more important and he did not mind if he existed as a ghost. He was sure that Teté would do him no harm and continue telling stories. He hated his aau for quite some time and would not speak with him for days.

***

The sun came from the left, rising above the granite peaks. Sheaths of sunlight reached them and cut across the poplar and oak leaves turning the sleeping dew into sparkling beads. The light fell on the opposite peak and graced the snow; the pines extended in long stretches across the slope. This was a very special peak and sacred to the villagers. Beyond this peak was the home of Devta. Once every three years, Devta was carried there by twelve men who covered the route in seven days. Devta himself selected these men. Lambs and a goat also accompanied the party; they were sacrificed on the way and cooked. But only five men made the final journey. The top of the hill held a divine lake. Devta was taken there for a holy dip. Grandpa told him the fairies lived there. No one could go there and return alive. The fairies kept him forever. Grandpa was selected once and had been there. Though he did not see any fairies, his team encountered two big brown bears and a leopard on the way.

The pathway was now just a narrow strip running along the side of the mountain. They had covered four kilometers and now the farmland was giving way to valleys speckled with boulders. They could see the distant peaks standing gray and mysterious against the vast blue backdrop. These peaks had attracted Diwakar since childhood. His motive to join the army was more than the uniform or the valor; it was these peaks. He knew there were outposts on top that overlooked the border. He had dreamed many times of riding a horse in full uniform from one post to the other across snow-covered peaks. For one full month, he prepared for the exams. Every morning he ran five kilometers and measured his time. He was well within the limit. His only worry was his chest, which fell an inch short. But Devta was on his side. During the physical check, he held his breath and closed his eyes, remembering him. His chest expanded by two full inches and he passed. The only barrier was the written exam.

***

“Diwa, we have arrived,” shouted Deepak, who was a bit ahead.

Deepak was almost the same age as Diwakar. He had left school after standard nine and was now doing housework. Earlier he had run away to Simla and, after working as a porter in the station for a few months, had come back. His brother Mohan was standing with him and waving. Shivam, the youngest one, was midway. All four climbed down through the boulders and bushes and reached the riverbank. Wild roses, thistles, and a few cactuses lined the banks, as did a few pines that grew from cones that had rolled down the peaks or been carried by the river. The valley was wide here and the river shallow. It was beneath these rocks where the trout waited patiently for food that came with the river.

Everyone except Shivam rolled up his sleeves. Shivam was a trainee and had joined them for the fun of it. Diwakar hopped across the rocks until he reached the middle of the stream. The sun shown through the clear water and reached the sands below, creating patterns where the water was still. He positioned himself on a rock and dipped his hands in from both sides of the rock. Immediately he felt the pain. The ice-cold water sent shockwaves through his body; his face turned red. It took a few seconds and then with firm determination, he dipped them in farther until he reached the bottom. His hands moved inward from both sides of the rock but there was nothing there. If there were a fish, he would have felt it instantly. Not every rock sheltered a fish. He checked once again and then removed his hands. Others were on the job too and one by one they checked all the possible rocks. No luck. The team moved farther upstream and started exploring again. And then Deepak shouted, “I think I have one here!”

Everyone looked at him in anticipation. He was on a big rock and was slowly feeling with his hands. And then he took out the fish, a medium-sized trout still wriggling in his tight grip.

“Great catch baya (brother)!” said Diwakar.

Deepak crossed to the riverbank and smacked the fish hard against a rock.

“Shivam, put it in the bag,” he said and went back to work.

Another hour passed and four more trout were caught. Meanwhile, the team moved farther ahead and was close to Mastarang, where the army maintained a small outpost. Mastarang provided abundant boulders to contractors and green pastures for the cattle. It had a dense pine forest that was also the home for leopards. Dogs guarded the herd of cows and sheep while wide metal collars protected the dogs from surprise attacks by the leopards.

Three more fish were caught and Deepak said, “I think that will be all for today. My hands are numb and I can’t feel anything.”

“Yes,” Diwakar said, “enough for today!”

All of them sat on rocks and placed their hands inside their shirts and jackets. It took quite some time before sensation returned. Shivam gathered branches to build a fire. They huddled together and put their hands as close as possible to the fire. Diwakar first handed out the peanuts and apples and then roasted the fish one by one, keeping two aside. Everything tasted good and all of them were content. They stretched out on the rocks and soaked up the sun.

Nisha was drying the peas in the afternoon sun when Diwakar came home. Parvati had gone to the temple to make poltus (fried pancakes) and Ria was at school.

“Where have you been? Aama was worried.”

Diwakar smiled and waved her inside. Nisha came in and he placed the fish on the table and looked at her. She had never seen trout but knew it required great effort and pain to catch one.

“Why did you go to so much trouble?” she asked with a combination of admiration and genuine concern.

“For you,” said Diwakar with a contented smile.

“Let me see your hands.” She covered his hands with her own.

Diwakar felt the comforting warmth and wished she would hold his hands forever. Nisha had a sisterly affection toward him while Diwakar was stumbling in love.

Nisha pulled back after a few seconds and said, “I will make tea for you.”

“No tea for me, I am going out. Cook the fish well and we will have tonight.”

Diwakar went out. Very soon he was on the road walking aimlessly. He was in high spirits.

Nisha looked at the fish—she knew that Diwa must have gone to great lengths to get them. She smiled to herself as she remembered Pravin giving her a bunch of flowers at Peo during their second meeting. It was a simple bunch of dahlias but she kept it close to her all night, and the night after. It was her first gift from a man, a special man, with whom she would spend the rest of her life, to whom she would dedicate her body, her soul, and her thoughts—around whom she would build her own special world of love, happiness, and more. After the flowers dried, she kept them inside her very special book—a thin, worn-out book given to her by her aaya—a book on mythology—the story of Lord Shiva. She had taken the flowers out only a few times and held them close to her bosom, closing her eyes while thanking her gods for helping Pravin to find her.

Ria came back from school. She changed and came to Nisha.

“Is it true that boys only prefer fair girls?”

“Who says so?” said Nisha with a smile.

“Most of my friends tell me that.”

“They are wrong, Ria. Girls who are dark are equally desirable.”

Ria gave her a doubtful glance and walked away. She looked at the peaks far away. She knew there was a land beyond the peaks at the end of the road. She knew that one day she would meet her love and he would take her out of this place to that land where there were cars, fairs, girls in jewels and constant fun. So far, she hadn’t met him, but there was a young man who often stole a look and even smiled at her once. He was in standard ten and had long hair. She made it a point to wait outside school everyday until he crossed her path. He was normally in a group but Ria knew that he would glance back. She went inside and switched on the TV.

Parvati reached the temple. A puja occurred nearly every month and everyone shared the work in turns. Parvati was spiritual to the core and never missed such chores. Moreover, the family earnings were not enough to substitute such duties with donations like many did. She met Jayshree at the temple who smiled and greeted her. Jayshree was close to her and was married to Shevak’s second and fourth brother and the mother of four children, two by each of her husbands. The family had the largest portion of the land among Shevak’s brothers. In the village, common marriage was still in practice among many families and a custom followed since primeval times.

Parvati returned from the temple with the lamb and kid following her. She entered the kitchen with a few poltus, which she had brought for everyone. Then she noticed the fish. It was a welcome sight, a break from the pancakes and cabbages and radishes. She could figure out where Diwa had been all morning.

Nisha entered the kitchen with a worried look. “Aama, I have never cooked fish before.”

“Not to worry, I will teach you. But first we need to clean them.”

She got on the job and very soon, the fish were cleaned and cut into pieces. Parvati cooked a delicious curry with garlic, turmeric and dried red chilies. All the while Nisha stayed by her side.

“Does your elder son love fish?”

“Yes, very much. Both the brothers and their father love fish.”

“Then I must learn it well.”

She memorized every step so that she could cook fish easily should Pravin ever ask her. They also cooked rice. Parvati knew that it was the third time in two weeks that the family was having rice and that there could be no more that month. She remembered her childhood days when rice was cooked only twice or thrice a year and that was on special occasions. Her father, along with others, had carried rice on their backs from as far away as Rampur. There were no roads and it took three days to make the trip.

Shevak came back and smelled fish the moment he entered the kitchen. The kitchen was more like a living room, as everyone preferred to stay close to the fire. There were a few pots, plates, sacks of buckwheat, and sheepskins on the floor. Nothing more. Diwakar came in and sat in one corner. Parvati took out the plates and called Ria. Shevak got the largest piece. Parvati passed an equally large piece to Diwakar but he refused it.

“Aama, I have already had one. Why not give this one to Nisha? She has never had one!”

“Give it to Ria,” Nisha said.

Parvati kept it aside. Though Nisha was skeptical about a fish she knew nothing about, she remained silent. Ria said nothing. Food was not important; she wanted to finish quickly and watch her favorite programs on TV. There was silence and everyone relished the dinner.

Shevak got up and said, “You two must finish eating fast. The Devta will be out tonight.”

Parvati set up two dishes for her and Nisha and asked, “Now who is in trouble?”

“Sushil,” said Shevak. “He went to get firewood beyond the rest house. While coming back, three dwarf-sized ghosts chased him. He ran, but they were faster. But when they reached him, they simply disappeared!”

“So, what is the problem now?” asked Parvati innocently.

“You idiot! You don’t understand that they entered him? He has been speaking incoherently since evening. And now Devta is going to take them out.”

Parvati nodded and waved at Nisha to finish off the dinner fast. She was a strong believer in ghosts and she knew fish was one thing that attracted them.

A few moments later, they could hear drums and cymbals. Devta was out on his mission.

“Switch off all the lights and close the windows,” Parvati whispered. She knew that once the ghost was out of the affected person it would try to get into the nearest visible house. It was better to stay under the cover of darkness. She started reciting hymns and names of gods and goddesses in a low voice. Everyone sat in the darkness. The only glow came from the bukhari and Shevak’s bidi.