Murmur of the Lonely Brook (9 page)

At the stall, Pravin sat at a table waiting for Raju. He was busy serving customers. After some time he came over to him.

“Aaté, it will be difficult to get a leave today. If I ask him he will get upset.”

“That’s okay; I will also leave early today. I need to sleep early.”

After some time he went out and packed two lunches of fried rice and came back. He also topped up his cell phone but kept it off. Both men were having lunch at a corner table when a middle-aged man walked in, came straight to their table, and greeted Raju.

“How are you, Raju?”

“I am fine. How are you, Ganga Bhaiya?”

Gangaram stayed in Rampur but came to Solan once in a while to buy goods for his shop. He often joked with Raju, telling him that he would open a tea shop in Rampur and take him there. He liked him and occasionally tipped him a rupee or two. “Meet my brother, Ganga Bhaiya.” Raju introduced Pravin.

“And this is Ganga Bhaiya. He has the biggest electrical shop in Rampur.”

Pravin nodded and he sat with them. Raju left with the plates and came back with two glasses of tea.

“So, you are from Kinnaur too?” Gangaram asked.

“Yes, sir. But I am employed here.”

They chatted for half an hour and during that time Pravin told him almost everything. Gangaram listened with interest to his plight, his travels from his village to Peo and then to Solan in search of a job.

After some time Pravin said, “I have to leave, sir.”

“Sure, but I would like to meet you again. If you cross Rampur, please do meet me at my shop. It is in the main market.”

“I will,” assured Pravin and bid good-bye to Raju.

Gangaram waved at Raju and called him to his table.

“How long have you known this man?”

“Quite long. But why do you ask?”

“Just asking. I may have some plans for him.”

“And for me?”

“The tea stall!” He smiled and left.

Pravin did not go home. First, he went to the temple and offered puja. He closed his eyes and in his mind said, “God, I have done no wrong. You know better. It was not my fault. And if I have done anything wrong, please forgive me.” He kept his eyes closed for quite some time and then left. He felt better. He walked down to the garden and sat on a bench. He called Diwakar and before he could reply, he said, “I want to speak with Nisha.”

“Please hold, Aaté. I will connect her with you.”

Nisha took the phone and said, “Yes.”

“It’s me.”

She did not reply but remained silent.

“Hello, it’s me. Are you there?”

After a few moments, she said, “Yes.”

“Why are you silent? Is anyone around?”

“No.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“No.”

“Listen, I got a job. The salary is okay, not bad. And I will be back soon. Now please tell me, how are you?”

“I am fine, but I miss you,” she finally said.

“I miss you too. Are they treating you well?”

“They are all good people and love me too. But please come soon.”

“I will try. I have sent a hundred rupees for you. Diwa will give it to you. Spend it as you like.”

“I don’t want any money. I want you.”

“I will try to come soon,” Pravin said and disconnected the phone.

Kishen was surprised to see him back early. He assumed he would be back after dinner.

“Did you have dinner?”

“No, Bare Bhaiya. I will have dinner with you.”

“That’s fine. Now sit down here while your bhabi cooks.”

He went to the kitchen door and said, “Listen, make some good alu-gobi for us tonight.”

Both sat on the cot and enjoyed the light evening breeze. After a while, Kishen became nostalgic. “In our village, we had a lot of land, a house, and many trees. We had mango, jackfruit, and jamun trees. And all the trees bore fruit. In the evening, we used to sit in the courtyard. There were so many birds that came for the fruits: parrots, bulbul, mynah and more.”

“In our place we have apple orchards. I will get you some when I go next time.”

“Yes, I have heard about Kinnaur apples. They are juicy and sweet too.” Kishen was in the mood to tell Pravin many stories about his childhood. He told him how he skipped school and spent all day at the river, how he rode on buffaloes, and how they dropped him in the mud. He told him about his work as a forest guard when he came face to face with a tiger, and more.

Meanwhile Kishen’s wife served them dinner. Kishen went on for some time telling stories even after dinner and then left to go to bed. Pravin stretched out and gazed at the stars. He soon fell asleep.

***

At home, Nisha felt restless. She had been expecting Pravin’s call for a long time but when it came, she could not speak. She could not tell him all she wanted to say. At last, after all this time, she had heard the voice of Pravin—her love. She felt a strange longing for him and wanted to be near him to hold him close. It was like roaming around in a desert alone for months in search of water and then hearing the distant sound of a stream. Not only did she feel a soothing wind blowing over her face but also the thrill of excitement—it was as if a part of her soul resonated from inside the phone—as if he was not far, as if he was sitting next to her looking at her with those dark eyes full of determination. She had never felt like this before. She wanted the phone call to last for a few more moments, as she wanted to say so many things. She knew he was tormented and that he labored hard—she only wished to caress him with her words, her assurance, her belief, her conviction. And with her love.

***

A couple of days passed. Pravin resumed his extra duties. He did not feel very tired. Anil now trusted him and promised better pay the next month. The construction continued going well. He came back and slept peacefully. No one was watching him and Pravin thought it was over. But then one day when he was going out for work, he found her standing, blocking the gate. Pravin could see that she wore nothing except her saree. And beneath it, he could see her breasts clearly and her nipples standing taut. He looked at her face without expression.

“You can go a bit late,” she said, lowering her eyes.

Pravin was surprised but was in no mood to give in to her yearning. “I have to go now. I have people waiting for me.”

She looked at him with desire in her eyes and pleading too. But after a while, she stepped back and went inside slowly. Pravin could not make out whether she was annoyed or disheartened.

Chapter 9

Parvati left early for the temple. The kid and the goat followed her. The villagers were scared. They decided on offering puja. The snow still covered the valley. It would be a few days before it melted and the losses could be assessed. When she arrived, the Devta was already out in the compound. He was carried to the other side of the river along with his entourage beating drums and cymbals. They rested him on high ground that was considered holy. Puja was performed and two lambs sacrificed. The villagers then went to the temple where the meat was cooked. Mohan sat at the head of the gathering. He was Shevak’s brother and in charge of temple proceedings. The Devta selected people on rotation.

“There will be no more snowfall before winter,” he said.

“Let’s hope so. He is almighty and powerful,” said Naresh.

“He is powerful. I remember, many years back, the people at Basteri refused an invitation and he gave them a flood that washed away the orchards, fields, and houses,” Yashobant said.

He was one of the elders and had seen many winters. He knew more than anyone did, and his wisdom always went unchallenged. The only sad thing was his loss in the last election. But he felt relieved after so many years of chiefdom.

“Let’s all pray for good times,” Mohan said, and everyone closed their eyes and folded their hands in prayer.

As per custom and belief, snowfall always happened within a week after the Devta went for a rest and the red flag came down. But this was an exception and everyone believed that it was due to some fault on their part. The justification of the devastation and the suffering rested with Devta and nobody questioned his decision. They could only ask for forgiveness and make offerings to him. Parvati prayed with others. She also prayed for the well-being of Chotu and asked Devta for peace and an end to suffering.

At home, Nisha sat alone in the courtyard. Diwakar and Ria both left, Ria for her classes and Diwakar to meet his friends. Nisha thought about the strange longing she had felt when Pravin called. Earlier, during the first few months of marriage, she had floated on the river of passion. She thought this was what love was all about. She waited eagerly for every night when their two bodies became one. Passion overrode mind and a thoughtless state prevailed. Gradually, after a month when the initial excitement lessened, her mind woke up. It sought something more. Maybe it drew inspiration from the movies she saw, the few other books she read, or the stories she heard. She didn’t know what it was. But it was something more than the usual routine. And then some days she didn’t feel like making love. She felt like talking for a while, felt like listening to him like before when he spoke and dreamed with his eyes open. Earlier she kept her eyes closed; she enjoyed and engaged intensely until the flames smothered and she felt satiated. But slowly she realized she was just playing up to his expectation. It was not a matter of her desire, need, or satisfaction. She was simply a player in a primal act in which her role was restricted to keeping her legs open. Though her body responded instinctively, her mind started moving away.

Though sometimes she felt resentful, she continued with routine submission. She thought maybe this was what marriage was all about. But she never felt violated, as some part of her found a sense of harmony, rather a sense of completeness in the union. It was only when he left that she realized what love was. Not that she missed him in bed, in the act of making love. She had never noticed how, over a period of just a few months, she had grown accustomed to his presence, his form, shadow, smell, demands, and had lost her own individuality. Her existence drew on him, her looks, her walk, her words, her cooking, all revolved around him. She realized how much she depended on him. And now in his absence, every moment, every act seemed incomplete. She wondered what he would have said, how he would have reacted, how he would have replied, how he would have felt and so on. Thoughts of him occupied her days.

She even missed the submission, the compliance—her contribution to his happiness and the momentary freedom she enjoyed from inhibitions. She realized that absence and distance were more important to understand what love was. It was not in possession or in constant company.

So even though everyone was around, she felt alone. She tried not to think about him but everything around her—the hills, the trees, the river, the valley, the clouds—constantly reminded her of him.

Then she thought about Diwakar. He was young and she recognized his infatuation with her. Though she enjoyed being the object of his fascination, she assumed that she was just a placeholder and this would pass in the long run when he found that special someone. Until such time, there was no harm in enjoying his warmth as long it stayed within limits. She was confident she could handle him. After all, he was simple and adorable and though she felt affectionate toward him, it was nothing but sisterly affection.

Ria came back from school and found Nisha sitting alone in the courtyard. She left her bag and sat beside her. She was in high spirits because she had managed to give the card away today. After school, Jeet came out alone and she waved at him. He came over to where she was waiting with her friend Lila. She looked at him and he smiled. Without any pretext, she took out the card and gave it to him. He took it, smiled again, and simply said, “Ho lasse.” (Thank you so much.)

But it meant a lot to her. She felt content, accomplished, and happy.

“Can I ask you something?” Ria asked Nisha.

“Yes,” Nisha said.

“Promise me you won’t mind or complain. And you will tell me the truth.”

“You have my word.”

“Did my brother kiss you before marriage?”

Nisha thought for a while. Ria was fifteen and nearing adulthood. Maybe she had something else on her mind. She looked at Ria and saw she had a confused look on her face. “Why do you ask?”

“Please tell me, I need to know.”

Nisha saw that Ria was serious.

Nisha smiled and asked, “What do you think? Did he kiss me before marriage?”

“I don’t think so,” Ria said with confidence.

Nisha was surprised with Ria’s answer, as it was true. She had never kissed him before marriage, but how would she know about that? “Why do you think that?” she asked innocently.

“Simple, you don’t have a baby in there.” She pointed to her tummy and then added, “My friend said that if you kiss before marriage, you will surely have a baby.”

Nisha burst out laughing and it took quite some time before she could stop. Ria looked at her with eyes wide wondering what was so funny.

“That’s not true. You will never get a baby from a kiss, either before or after marriage,” Nisha said.

“Are you sure?” Ria asked.

“I am, but never kiss someone you don’t love,” Nisha cautioned and left her wondering.

Diwakar was walking back from his tutorial. Guruji who gave the lessons was a good teacher. He was intelligent and knew each student’s limitations. Even though he would have loved to take them further, he restricted himself to suggestions and having them memorize probable questions and answers. His home was a long way off—close to the plains—but he never saw his employment as a punishment. He knew the system was at fault and over a period of years, he had lost his resolve to fight and change it. He remained carefully neutral, voicing occasional concerns while helping deserving students make it to the next level.

Diwakar looked at the evening sky. The sun had just gone down, leaving striking red lines across the horizon differentiating the layers of clouds. They formed a spectacular backdrop to the peaks. His ambition had always been to roam these peaks as an army man, but now the dream had an added element, Nisha. And that made a lot of difference. The valley, the harvest, the peaks, the sky—everything came with a different color now. The village seemed different, too—a much more attractive place to stay. Earlier he thought life was an adventure, a challenge, but Nisha had changed everything. Now life had become a journey, a peaceful journey with someone to care for, someone to protect and love, someone to share his dreams. He was lost in thought and did not notice Balbir waving at him. Only when Balbir blew the horn did he turn around.

“Come here! I have something for you.”

“What’s that, Mamaji?”

“Your brother sent you some money. Here, take this—a hundred rupees for you and hundred for your Beysha (brother’s wife).”

“So you met him in Solan? How is he?”

“He is fine and seems to be doing well. He said he will come for a visit soon.”

“Yes, he must come soon. We miss him very much.”

Diwakar left Balbir and continued walking. He felt happy at the news that his brother was doing well. Aaté was his childhood hero and he still thought of him that way. He used to follow him everywhere. He was anxious to see him again and listen to his adventures. He was not concerned that Nisha belonged to him or that he had more access and intimacy with her. His world with Nisha was a different world, far away from reality, far removed from earthly encumbrances, a solitary spring flowing across rocks and boulders with single-minded determination.

He decided to spend a part of the money to load new songs onto his cell phone. He knew that Nisha loved songs and this was one way he could impress her. He would play them while he was in the field and at home as well. He would also top-up his mobile with talk-time so that he could call aaté sometime. He reached home and called Nisha inside.

“Aaté sent you this,” he said and gave the money to Nisha.

“And he sent me some also.” He showed the other note to her proudly and smiled, as if he had an equal share of his brother’s love.

“He will be here soon and then we will both go fishing,” he added.

“Can you do me a favor?” Nisha asked.

“Sure, anything you wish.”

“Take this money and buy a pair of good warm socks for Aama. And some bangles and hair clips for Ria.”

Diwakar nodded and took the money. He would go to Sangla to make the purchases.

***

Shevak had mixed feelings about his elder son. Earlier he had met Balbir, who assured him Pravin was doing well. Balbir had advised him to treat hs son as an equal. Shevak did not understand that.
How can a father and son be equal?
he wondered. All his advice was for his own good. Yes, he had been a bit rough with him but that was his nature. It did not mean that he did not love or care for him. He had spent huge sums for his education and supported him all along. But it was good news that Pravin had found a job. He would wait and see how long he stayed. Maybe he had changed; maybe marriage had made him more responsible. He lit a bidi and prayed silently to god. He wanted Pravin to settle down with a job. Shevak had three brothers and had inherited a fourth of his father’s land. This was not much and some additional earnings would help the family.

Parvati returned from the temple. She brought jalebi (deep-fried buckwheat in a pattern) with her, which was a delicacy that everyone in the house loved. After dinner, Parvati sat near the fire with Shevak.

“Chotu loves jalebi,” she said, as if to herself.

“Don’t start all over again! He is fine; Balbir saw him and said he is doing well.”

Parvati was pleasantly surprised to hear about Pravin.

“He is working in Solan. But I don’t know how much he is getting.”

Parvati was happy with the news that her son was well. She was not concerned with money.

“Is he coming back soon?”

“Balbir said he might come.”

“Don’t start shouting at him when he is here.”

Shevak looked at Parvati with his standard frown and muttered something under his breath.

“They are all grown up now and if you treat them well they will take proper care of us in our old age.”

“I don’t mind if they go their own way. If they don’t help out I can take care of myself.”

Shevak knew that without help he couldn’t continue for long. In the hills, people age fast. The hard work starts from childhood and it takes a toll on them. But he was not worried. Even if he couldn’t do farming, he could always hire a laborer for his apple orchards and the profits would be enough to support two old people. He thought he had done his best bringing up his children and now it was up to them and Devta to carry on. He decided to send Diwa once more to take the army exams. If he failed again, he could always talk with the Yashobant to refer him to the MLA (local legislator) for a job. Yashobant was his second cousin, and being the village head for so long, he knew people who mattered. If all else failed, then Diwa could stay at home, do the farming, and look after the cows.

In the village, everyone looked to their sons to take care of them when they grew up. Parvati always looked forward to retirement. Having spent her life in labor and toil, she only hoped that a time would come when she would get relief from this inhuman slogging. Relief from sowing the seeds, waiting for rain, plowing and tilling the field, reaping the harvest, carrying grass, fodder, refuse, firewood, crops, cooking, knitting, brewing, and more. She hoped that in spite of her past sins she might have done some little good for which she would get this reward from God. A good job for either of her sons would lessen the load and allow some comfort. Also, it would lessen the burden of loans and the painful repayments every month. And even if only one son stayed at home, he could lend a hand in tending the cattle, sheep, and other work. She was happy that there was some news from Pravin. She cared for all her children and always prayed for their safety and well-being. She felt most content and happy when all her children were at home under the same roof. She decided to offer puja at the temple.

At night sleep eluded both Nisha and Ria but for different reasons. Ria, enriched with her recent knowledge from Nisha, planned her next move. She knew that it would be soon when Jeet would want to meet her. But why wait? She herself could take the next step. The only confusion remained in what she would say. She knew she had to ask two vital questions. One was whether he loved to travel. This was important because he would have to hold her hand and take her out of this village to the end of the road where they would enter the city that glitters all the time.