HALF MOON
CHAPTER - 13
She lay awake by her mother's side, though she was tired and sleepy. She kept thinking about all the years she had wanted to live in this house with her parents but she was never able to. Now even now, when she had left her life behind, it seemed she had left this too behind in that fold of by gone years. Now what she had on her platter in the name of life and future, did not have much space for this house and her parents too. She could not live in this town full of relatives and people of their community. She did not have the skills appropriate for this kind of life. She could earn her living in that fast paced indifferent life of Delhi, which many found to be quite impersonal. But that life suited Mehar's charred past. She wanted to dowse her burning heart and soul in running streams of waters of anonymity. She ceased to be the person she was. A new Mehar was beginning to sprout from within her slowly, gradually.
Her only link to her past which she wanted to carry forward was her son and her parents. These three people were all she had earned so far in her life. Sometimes she felt sad by this fact. She felt they were linked to her by blood. She did not earn them. They had happened to her by God's will. She was born to her parents out of their choice and her son was born to her without her will. She felt deprived and drained out. She felt she was not skilled enough for this world to have some solid foundations of relationships to fall back on. She often felt the need of a shoulder to put her head on, to cry her heart out, to share a joke with, to have a hearty laughter over a lost opportunity, to grin from ear to ear sharing a naughty joke with, to smile for no reason looking deep into somebody's eyes.
With a flat face devoid of any smile, eyes vacant of dreams, heart filled with thoughts for present only, soul not feeling anything for the time being, as it knew there was a person not far from where she was lying safe in her mother's bedroom, who would not lose a single opportunity to shred her to as many pieces as he could, she slept a sound sleep she had learnt to, irrespective of how many tremors she might have had felt during the previous day. More
Profound the attacks were deeper the sleep would be. She had been able to create this immune system on her own. This prevented her from further virtual assaults which occur when one begins to repeatedly live them during waking as well as sleeping hours. She had successfully learnt to put the past behind her back and be ready for the next day for new challenges, which her life had never been short of throwing her way unashamedly.
She did not know when Janab Singh brought his wife's morning cup of tea at the crack of the dawn. She woke up much later when Surjit was asleep, Janab Singh was reading morning newspapers sitting in outer veranda, Rajinder too sitting on another chair already through with his morning schedule including a shower, pasting and binding of beard and tying his turban. She inquired about Ranjit, he was still asleep. She went inside again. He was fast asleep with a smile on his face. She felt a pang of remorse.
The boy was growing up fast. He knew whatever was happening between his parents was not right, yet he never questioned any of the two. When Mehar told him to shift to GangaNagar, he accepted with a little reluctance about leaving his school and friends, but he was equally enthusiastic about staying with his grandparents. Now she felt he would have to bear the real impact of the separation of his parents. This was what she deeply wanted to save him from but sadly there was no way she could. If she had to be free of Rajinder, if she had to break free from the life she knew she could not live any longer, she could not save Ranjit from the biggest disappointment of his adolescent life. Both will move ahead parallel.
Her release from pain and his loss of a home, where he had been all these years and most of his peers and friends have the right to without any doubt or question. Something which came naturally to all of them, she had already denied him. She knew this but she could not help. She tried but she could not kill herself. She knew her responsibility towards him had doubled now; she was ready to shoulder it willingly, with hope inside her, happily with a smile on her lips and without bowing down. She caressed his hair and walked out of the room.
She had been feeling heaviness in the air as she went about her morning schedule. Breakfast too turned out to be a quiet affair, very unlike as Surjit was basically a morning person full of life and talk especially during this time. She kept to herself and so did everyone
Else. Ranjit hurriedly finished and ran out to play with friends. He had made many since he had joined school here. Afterwards when all were sitting reading newspaper and Surjit was instructing house help about the day ahead, Rajinder asked Mehar to go out with him to see some relatives. She looked at Janab Singh. He was looking at both of them. Surjit was a little distance away; she did not come to know of whatever had transpired between them.
Janab Singh put down his paper and said, “You have called Mehar here to talk to her in our presence. Please, do that and do not waste her time in visiting relatives for no reason. She has to go back tomorrow by early morning train.”
Rajinder shifted legs. He was uncomfortable. Mehar too sat straight. She realized that the time had come for her to brave it. This would be the final time, at least she hoped it was.
“I want my relatives too to be present when I talk to her. You will take only her side then who will understand my viewpoint?” Rajinder said and Mehar knew what it meant. She knew this will be another waste of time and energy and nothing will come out of it. There will be another round of verbal assaults, hurling of accusations. But she could not afford it any longer. Her situation had changed now. She had a pressing job to cater to, she just could not linger on with this anymore. It has to be settled now this way or that way.
The possibility of finding a solution seemed to be futile. Rajinder was not ready to relent to. He was not ready to leave her alone. She kept sitting there thinking about how to handle this situation now. She had less than twenty four hours for that. It seemed unlikely that it would be possible to find any solution to it in that little time as she had been trying to do this for so long without any result. She felt deeply disappointed. She was about to get up and go inside when they heard the outer gate being opened by someone.
It was the same relative couple whom Rajinder wanted to visit with Mehar. Jagjit Singh was Rajinder's first cousin and his wife Veeran was a distant relative of Janab Singh. The couple had been instrumental in getting this match fixed. Both were kind hearted soft spoken people, liked by everyone in the community and this small town. Mehar got up and greeted them with folded hands. Veeran hugged Mehar tightly. Then she held her hand and took her
Inside to talk in private. Mehar had no choice. They sat in one room, Veeran closed the door from inside.
Then she said, “Now please tell me. What is all this. We did not get you two married to get divorced. What has happened?”
Mehar did not know what to say to this. So much water had flown down the bridge since the time she had married Rajinder and now at this juncture, she could not explain all that to her. It would take a long time to explain and time was something she did not have now. When she had it, no one cared to listen to her. She had tried to explain earlier, tried to make everyone who ever mattered understand her plight, her views, her requirements from life, her share of the dignity, her share of pie of the life but it all fell on deaf ears. Now when she had turned the table and it was obvious that she was not going to take it anymore, they wanted her to explain and felt that she might once again relent and return to where she was taking in everything.
She sat quietly for a while trying to find words to say all that was coming to her without hiding her feelings. Meanwhile Veeran kept looking at her with expectant eyes. It seemed she had something on her mind. It also seemed she had come with the resolve to solve. Soon the cat came out of the bag. When Mehar could not find words for a long time, she said, “Look Mehar, we talked to Rajinder yesterday and we made him understand that you should be allowed to work outside the home. He has given his word. He says that he will allow you to open a computer academy on the roof of your house. You can run that. He will also help you in its running. This way you will be able to work and will not feel left out.”
Mehar could not believe her ears. She could not believe that Rajinder could be so dumb as to keep doing this after all that had happened between them in the past. She thought either he was fooling around with this couple or he was himself a plain simple lout to believe that Mehar would once again surrender to his ideas to buy peace.
She held Veeran's hand in both hands and said in a calm voice, “My dear elder sister, I have tried all I could do and now nothing is left to save. Kindly do not take pains for something that is already dead and spare all the parties involved from further grief that we all are already enduring.”
With this she almost dragged her out of the room to the veranda where everyone was sitting, waiting eagerly for the two women. They stood facing them. Veeran said in a loud voice addressing Rajinder,“You never told us things had gone so bad. You only said that she is angry with you and have taken up this job in Delhi to teach you a lesson. But she is determined about her decision.”
Suddenly the silence of a few moments ago was broken with all three of them speaking simultaneously. Rajinder, Jagjit Singh and Veeran. Nobody could make out what was being said. This went on for a while. Then Jagjit Singh told both his wife and Rajinder to stay quiet.
Jagjit thought for a while in the silence that followed and came out with a brilliant idea, “Mehar. Why don't the two of you go for another honeymoon and try to sort this out. I am sure you won't even have to make an effort. Your being together would automatically solve this. You two will have the entire world at your disposal.”
Mehar looked at her father with pleading eyes. Janab Singh understood and said in stern voice,“Son Jagjit Singh. All this had been done previously many times over on our insistence. Mehar had tried many times over. She has come to a point where she find sit impossible to continue with this relationship any longer. Kindly spare this to her and us. Please try to make this smoother by providing your helping hand. Already too much of blood shed has happened. We want to spare both of them anymore of it.”
Rajinder got up from his chair with a start. His sharp annoyance was evident from his body's movements. His voice was harsh,“I told you, brother. This is a bunch of high headed idiots. They want to destroy their own daughter's home. I will see how they do it and how she lives after that.”
With these words he hurriedly collected his stuff, packed his bags and walked out of the main gate within a few minutes. Jagjit Singh and Veeran kept sitting glued to their seats unable to understand how to react under these circumstances. So was everyone else. But Mehar was used to this. She stayed calm. She got up and went inside to arrange for tea for them.
The day went by and there was no news of Rajinder. Janab Singh was calm as usual, Surjit was nervous thinking aloud as was her habit and wondering what Rajinder would do next. Mehar was more concerned about her own future. She knew now for sure that she was not going to get any respite from Rajinder easily. She wanted to know how she could but there was no way to find out. So she decided to flow with the current, for that was the only other option she had. Life had taught her many lessons through its course- this was one among them. ‘If things do not fall in line, do follow life, it will take you to your destiny’.
She did some shopping in the evening, visited farm with Janab Singh, got some fruits packed for colleagues, had an early dinner, said goodbye to Ranjit, as she would be leaving early next morning and went to bed by nine. She lay peacefully thinking to herself. Despite Rajinder's walk out this visit of hers had not gone in waste. There was a smile on her lips when she fell asleep. Next morning was no different from many she had been through earlier. She had a tough time getting up but did manage to go through her morning schedule including a quick shower and some breakfast. Janab Singh drove her to railway station, made her sit in her seat. She forced him to return and have some more sleep before the day actually began for him.
She spent that evening at Varshee's house and forgot completely about the gnawing failure of her visit to Ganga Nagar at the hands of Rajinder. From the next day onward she was back to her full circle. Days filled with work and activity that did not have much time to think anything else about. One week passed. She was on tenterhooks but nothing happened. She knew as long as Rajinder was in the country he would not sit silent. She knew in the heart of her hearts that he might be up to something. Although she tried to ignore but her subconscious waited for some kind of explosion. She did not know by then that he was preparing for a series of explosions. Neither of her parents had any clue about it.
That was another of those days when she was out for a shoot. There were some newspaper reports about one self-proclaimed “Baba” who would perform miracles at the request of people. He was even reported to have created fire out of water and many such things. Input editor Sulekha Singh loved such stories, she asked Mehar to work on this. Mehar was more than willing, being the student of Physics, she was keen to find out what laws of nature
Baba took advantage of. She called many places to find out finally that evening Baba was at a community center in a residential building on Visas Mar. She, in tow with a camera unit, reached there to find about a hundred devotees sitting in front of an Aghori sitting on a raised dais surrounded by thick smoke of agarbatees.
In essence, Aghoris base their beliefs on two principles: that Shiva is perfect and that Shiva is responsible for everything. Shiva is thought to be responsible for every rock, tree, animal, and thought. Consequently, everything that exists must be perfect, and to deny the perfection of anything would be to deny the sacredness of all life in its full manifestation.
When the crew reached there, evening aarti of lord Shiva was being performed. It was audible out there on the main road, despite its maddening traffic noise. Devotees were singing while dancing to the tunes of the song praising Shiva, bells were keeping pace as well askhar taal and dholak. Camera person Gautam hurriedly took shoulder shots as his assistant set up tripod and soon with camera set atop it he was happily recording each and every movement of Baba. After the prayers were over Baba performed some more rituals and said aloud some shlokas. Finally he was ready to encounter and answer anyone who dared to ask him anything. His eyes were red shot.
He was of medium height, thin, looked almost starved with his abdomen and cheeks sunk in, shoulder blades protruding, his salt and pepper beard hanging on to his chest, his long hair reaching up to his waist were entangled and dirty, seemed he had not washed them for many months by now. But his eyes despite the redness in them were the most alive and active part of his body. They shone like a beam, were sharp enough to penetrate through any soul, pierce it with a gleam and come out with glee holding onto that individual's each little inner detail.
Mehar looked at him and tried to weigh the possibility of taking him by the horn. She felt she would not be able to. Still she wanted him to speak on camera about his miracles. She approached him, he shooed her away. She was told he did not like women to be near him. She asked Gautam to ask him for an interview. He point blank refused to him too and told him that he will have to leave the room if he asked again. They continued with what they were doing earlier- recording the proceedings.
A jug of milky white water was brought in and placed in front of Baba and a few pieces of paper too. Baa's man spoke in a loud voice that now anyone who wanted to ask a question should raise his hand. Many hands were raised. Baba gestured towards one person. That day in many states around the country votes were being cast for by elections. This man asked about a particular constituency. He wanted to know which party would win that seat. This was the time before widespread electioneering in India. Most of the polling took place on traditional ballet paper, so the results were a day ahead. Baba murmuring something under his breath took one paper, spread his palm over it, dipped it in that jug filled with turbid water, took out dripping paper and gave it to his disciple standing close by.
He dried it under a lamp and soon some words appeared on it. It showed three letters in bold. There was big round of applause. Mehar understood in a flash. This opened her eyes. She knew many of them would go home with a resolve to vote for city dwellers' party.
She tried to read more in this story but could not. Baba was being asked questions only related to politics or some very personal matters. In a little while she realized that it was doctored. For only a few people were allowed to ask questions and when once again she and Gautam tried to corner Baba for an interview, they were ignored. When she tried to take a few bites people only said praises about Baba with folded hands. Finally with a dead story in tapes, tired and listless, they headed office to report. Sulekha was much more disappointed. She wanted Mehar to try one more time. Mehar refused and tried to explain the bigger picture. She did not know if Sulekha got her point or not but she did not persist. She let a sigh of relief and walked down to come out in the cool night breeze to wait for a car drop home.
Mehar was happy with the world. Happy that there was a reason for her to survive in this chaotic disorder that her life had become. She had long ago stopped trying to find any reason for it. She had learned to accept each and every day as it came-head on with open arms, mind and heart. Yet there were moments she felt disappointed, disheartened, bowed down. But these moments were momentary, they would come, affect her, make her feel low, make her feel deprived and pass away. She would not let them carry her too far into a shell. She had learned the trick to turn it into a stream of thoughts and from these arose opportunities.
Next morning she received a call from Janab Singh to tell her that Rajinder had come and taken Ranjit with him to Bikaner. They were now in the house and had brought Tarabai back from her friend's house where Mehar had made arrangements for Tarabai to be. She did not know what to say to this. After explaining all this he also revealed that Rajinder had resigned from his Middle East job and had rejoined his old job at the Medical College.
This indeed was a piece of information for Mehar. If he had decided to not to go back and join here, he definitely would want her to take care of him and home. When she expressed concern about well being of Ranjit, Janab Singh assured her that he was Ranjit's father, she should not worry about that. She kept quite but she still had her reservations. She knew for the time being she could only wait and watch. Her joy of last evening about life in general had flown out of the window. She felt uneasy. She did not know what to do. So she threw herself completely in the job at her hand.
There was a book release function she needed to attend. The function went as usual with all fanfare that one could imagine might be associated with a book written by a high profile government official. There was so much of speculation and expectations already in the air due to the stalwarts of politics and literature attending it. Camera person Manoj had a good time taking stock pictures of each one of them. These pictures come in handy during breaking time stories. Editing of VO/VT was almost always made out of such stock shots. While sitting in their lounge during free time if anyone of them happened to see some footage taken by him during any shoot being used as stock shots, he would invariably feel proud, try to recall the shoot and share stories about it.
One minister's presence at the function expressed many hues. His absence could be more damaging, so obviously he avoided. But he refrained from speaking much. He simply wished the author good luck. As the function was over and everyone began to disperse, Mehar motioned Manoj to come forward. They reached close to him, Mehar with the microphone attached with GITV logo and asked him about his reaction to the book. He repeated his words of a few minute before and played safe. She asked one or two questions more and was given apt replies to those as well. Now she felt she could ask the difficult one. She asked about the revelation in the book.
He looked straight at her. She was thinking of re-framing her question with more pointed queries, when he picked up a bouquet of flowers lying on a table close by, before Mehar could understand anything he handed it to her with the words, “Hey, accept this, young lady. This is for you...”and walked away.
Manoj followed him with his camera till he disappeared behind the bend in staircase. Manoj returned to Mehar still standing with those flowers and mike clutching in her hands flabbergasted. She decided to take it with her to the newsroom.
She did and when Sulekha asked her about the minister's bite. She laughed aloud and showed her the bouquet. Those flowers stayed there in the newsroom.
That evening she as usual talked on phone with her parents before going to bed. This time as Ranjit was not there she missed him and called her Bikaner house to speak to him. He picked up the phone and both of them talked for about five minutes. Ranjit sounded happy. He was having good time with his father. He had been to the village house and would be visiting the hospital with his father quite often, which Mehar would not have allowed had she been around. She could read that mischievous undertones in his excited voice. All this time he did not mention anything about school, which was going to open in a week's time.
This was what she wanted to talk about with Rajinder to leave him back at Ganga Nagar, so that he could prepare his bag for the new class and uniform and other things before it was too late. She asked Ranjit to give the phone to his father. She could hear him saying, “Mother wants to talk to you, take this.” and the phone got disconnected. She thought it to be a fault and dialed again. This time it rang and no one picked up. She waited and it got disconnected after a while on its own. She thought this might be a false ring. She dialed again. This time after five rings it was picked up, but no one spoke. She said,”Hello.” to make sure that the line was not dead.
She heard Rajinder say, “Don't you dare call here again. This is my house. This is my son. This is all mine. You are thrown out. Do not ever come here or call again.” and it got disconnected again. She listened to the dial tone for a while, then put the receiver down.
She was standing by the window looking outside at a lonely lamp post, lighting the night filled with mystic darkness, silence
Being intercepted in between by some car entering the gate, surrounded by mosquitoes, shining in its yellow vapors, looking glamorous from inside the wire mesh, two lizards on its pole in wait of their dinner sitting motionless... She did not feel anything. She waited for some pain to rise from within her to claim her, some tears to swell in her eyes to melt her. But nothing happened. She remained solid like rock, kept standing the same way, looking out at that cluster of mosquitoes, some of them losing their path and buzzing by her window.
Neither did she feel the need to sit down. She felt she was beyond anything, heartache, insult, ridicule; nothing could hurt her anymore. Suddenly it dawned on her. The reality of an empty soul. A heart that had forgotten to love. A heart that had no softness left to cater to. She felt relieved. She felt at peace. She felt that a part of her which was dead but was still clinging to her had finally been taken away. She did not feel anything now. She did not know if she was dead or alive.
She who always felt her son to be an integral part of her body and soul faced the situation with dry eyes and silent shrieks. She realized she had nothing on the stake now- nothing to lose. She was completely free of fear. This gave her a new insight. This provided her with the courage she had been wanting to have within her. It was this courage that made her take up the most difficult of challenges later that came her way. She was able to gulp down all the insult and mudslinging that was showered upon her. This absence of fear made her the woman she was formed during her later years.
With this resounding silence echoing inside and outside of her, she changed into her night clothes, did her nightly schedule and went to bed. She slept through the night, her arms crossed over her bosom, it heaved with her every breath, so did her arms, silence kept writing new equations on her being. Equations of years wasted, of words spoken for no reason, of speeches uttered to be thrown in oblivion, of lives united for love but could not carry this far, of life brought to this world to part with, of hurts that were not meant to but did hurt many. She did not know if she slept or stayed awake. But she was fully rested when she got up in the morning. All tuned up for the challenges of the day ahead.
As she began her morning schedule, she slowly began to rise from her latest wounds. She realized this was not her alone. This had more to do with another person and that person happened to be her own flesh and blood. She thought about it and as she thought more about it, she realized, she could not let things be the way they were. She had to make sure about his well being whatever happens to her or anyone else for that matter. She had to make sure that his future was not at stake. In this kind of situation which has resulted by last evening's events, Ranjit seemed to be the worst sufferer. She decided to shed off her passive stance and try and find some workable solution to this stand-off.
She went about her work as usual. Did her duty a little absent minded, but by now she had acquired enough skills to not let her personal matters intrude into her profession. She went about the morning smoothly, her thought process in full swing but kept at the back burner, her pace slow but fast enough to keep pace with her demanding job. She managed to sail through the day without any hindrance from her inner self. As the evening approached she felt the need to be in company of her friends. She did not want to divulge her present dilemma but she needed some respite to keep her mind away from it for some more time to let it simmer longer in order to give out best of results.
She called up one of them, Irshad. He was not in town. Then she called up Kapoor's. Shradha was not well; she had not been keeping well for some time as she was expecting her second baby. This was her first trimester, difficult period for many women. This involved morning sickness as well as emotional upheavals. Mehar asked her if she could come over for a while. Shradha was glad; she welcomed the idea and said may be if she felt better after her visit they could go out for dinner later. Mehar was a little disheartened to see her clad in a crumpled kaftan sitting in her bed all by herself. She looked depressed. Mohit was abroad on an official trip, her three year old daughter Tanya had gone visiting her grandmother with her nanny.
Two women began talking about children and soon the conversation turned towards Shradha's pregnancy. She was excited about having another child, in fact she jokingly said she wanted to have a few more if her husband could afford half a dozen of them. Both of them had a big laugh at that. As they were talking about pregnancy and childbirth, Shradha asked Mehar many things about her own pregnancy. Mehar did remember most of it, as she had a
comparatively comfortable time while carrying Ranjit, she never had any morning sickness or other related uneasiness, except the burden of carrying a heavy belly during her last trimester.
She happily talked about it. The two women were having nice time each in her own way. Shradha having a friend to talk about her fears and expectations. Mehar being able to put her mind away from pressing personal matters for a while so that she may be able to think with a quiet mind and come to some conclusion.
Last night's Rajinder's words were very fresh in her mind. Those words wrapped in hatred for her were simmering on her hearth, trying to let out some heat once in a while. She was trying hard to contain it inside her lest it all came out and burn her completely. She always found it difficult to ridicule any person or for that matter anything. She would consider herself among those fools who wanted everything around them to be perfect and in tune. And she loved to live in this world cocooned, safe and oblivious of the dangers of the life in this vast jungle.
Her comfort zone had been betrayed so many times by now and so fiercely that she had lost any hope of having it. At the same time she still clung to it. She still thought there could be a way out. Some kind of respite from this present turbulent condition, which at present did not seem to supply with any at the moment. She almost felt like talking about her present hurdle with Shradha but better sense prevailed and she stopped short.
The two women were happy and comfortable sitting and talking. They dropped the idea of going out for dinner. When Mehar drove home it was half an hour past midnight. Incidentally she forgot to take the right turn from where she always took, while coming from Kapoor family house. She now had no option to drive further and look for another U-turn. She had not realized that on this stretch of Mathura Road there was none for many kilometers.
She drove on and on and was filled with a little fear too as Delhi was not considered to be a very friendly city for women, especially during late hours. It was particularly a strange hour as she did not encounter even a single PCR van or even a lone police man. Finally she reached a red light which was blinking. She slowed down to look around, there was no other traffic from any direction, she took a hurried U-turn and headed home. That night she learned another lesson. Not to drive alone at nights in Delhi.
She was uncomfortable and undecided. She knew she had to speak about this with her parents. But she could not gather enough courage. She found it difficult to form words to tell them. She felt that while talking about this with them, she might break down. She felt that all her resolve to be strong which she had been able to carry so far would be demolished the moment she would face them or hear her father's voice on phone. She carried this within for another three days. But on Saturday night she got a message on her pager from her father to speak to him immediately. She was out with her friends; they had planned to have dinner that night in old Delhi, at Karim's near Jama Masjid.
They were midway when Mehar asked Irshad to stop the car at some PCO. Those were the days when gradually everyone was acquiring a mobile phone. Mehar was still going steady with her pager, not very certain about buying one, as it did cost a fortune. Irshad had just bought one, he was a quiet person, not much of a show off. So Mehar had not come to know that he had one by now. He took out his shiny new piece of Nokia and gave it to her to make the call. She felt a little hesitant about talking to her father in other's presence. She kept sitting contemplating for a while. Irshad switched on hazard lights of the car, stopped it by the side of the road and motioned the other two sitting at the back to come out.
They got out and began talking standing close on her side covering her view. She felt the sudden silence inside and outside echoing through her. She suddenly became aware of her situation and that everyone, each one of her friends knew what she was going through, irrespective of the fact that they never ever talked about it. She wanted to express her gratitude towards them but she knew this was not done. Moreover she did not have the words to do that. She knew however articulate she may try to be, she can never come up with appropriate words to express her thanks.
She simply sent her love in the air for them, air that will touch them, caress them, speak her unspoken words into their ears and pass through them. Air can never stand at one place for long. It does not have that character. And even if it stays at some place for long for any reason, it gets stagnant, it loses its character, it leaves life, it becomes dead. Mehar felt the air in the car thickening. She had to make the call now. She felt it was very urgent and something big and not very pleasant is waiting for her. She dialed GangaNagar number. Janab Singh seemed to be sitting close to it. He picked it up after a
Single ring. She only had the opportunity to say a hello, in response to his hello.
The next few words she heard were strange from Janab Singh, “Mehar. You have to come here immediately, child. Take the train tomorrow afternoon.”
She could not answer immediately. She felt lost. All she could mutter was, “But, Papaji.. How can I?”
His voice was harsh, quite unlike him,“You have to. You have to think about your child. Don't you?”
Mehar knew now that they knew. She fell silent till the core of her being. She could not find words to answer him. She could not think of anything. She tried to say something but some incoherent words came out of her mouth.
Janab Singh's voice was again heard, this time it was more decisive.
“Mehar, you have to come, my child. If they don't allow you to, then do resign. But you must come. You should be here by tomorrow night. Whatever happens. I do not want to hear another word from you.”
This was the tone she had never had from her father all her life, not even as a child when she might have been to many mischief. She realized this was his final word. Final signal for her to face the life destined for her, not the one she wanted but the one that Almighty has chosen for her. She did not know what it contained. She had no inkling where it would lead her. But she realized that whatever solace and happiness she had so far was gone now. Gone with the wind that she had blown away.
She knew the uphill climb of her life had finally arrived. She knew there would not be even the slightest respite from it anymore for her. She fell dead. She did not utter a single word. She disconnected the phone. She kept sitting motionless for a few seconds. Then the thought of others occurred to her, they were still engrossed in some discussion by the road side. She opened the door, asked them to get inside.
They went to Karim's and had their dinner but the moods remained somewhat subdued. Mehar's manner and face was sufficiently transparent to give away her mental state. If one person
of the party of six was absent from the scene in spite of sitting among them, it was evident. She felt sorry and tried many times to lift herself up but failed miserably. Finally she gave up and simply stayed put with smiles and an occasional nod. On their way back she returned with Kapoor's. Others went to India Gate for ice cream and a late night stroll on its lawns.
They drove home straight as Shradha felt tired and was in no mood for further outing. Mehar got off at her place and told them about her leaving tomorrow for Ganga Nagar. She also told them that she will not be back for quite some time and there might be a possibility of her resigning from her job as well. Shradha felt alarmed and wanted to know more. She only told her what she knew. That her father has asked her to come immediately and also that her son was with his father. She also could not contain herself form telling her that she had not been allowed to speak to him by his father.
This was enough for them to understand. They seconded Janab Singh's opinion that she must leave everything aside to solve this issue at the earliest. She told them she too felt the same. Mehar would never forget Shardha's parting words. She hugged her very tight and said,“After you are Mehar, you are a mother. Never forget this. You have carried your son in your womb. He is your own flesh and blood. You will never regret anything that you will do for him.”
Mehar felt the same, nevertheless she thanked her profusely for her wise words and they drove off. Mehar, feeling tired till the core of her bones, walked towards her door with heavy steps and heavier heart. She drifted between waking and sleeping through a disturbed night and woke up to a headache. She rang the bell as was customary for her to make her landlady aware that she was up and would need tea and breakfast. The dutiful prompt ex- policeman's wife never failed to lay the table for her within fifteen minutes of her ringing the bell. It was the same that day too. She did not feel like eating anything. But the lady insisted so she carried her plate inside her room to eat later. Getting ready for office that day turned out to be a difficult task for her.
As she entered the office she realized it was a Saturday. Those were the days when 24X7 news channels were still far away. Saturdays were leaner days with only a few in office. Newsroom bore a vacant look. She did not know to whom she could convey or seek
the permission for an absence from duties for a longer period, as it seemed impending to her. As she sat thinking, she saw Dr. Mehdiratta coming out of his chamber. He walked by saying something to each one of them present in the newsroom. She was not in a proper state of mind to register what was being said to them. But in general the atmosphere was jovial. He slowed down near Mehar and said, “Mehar, you are not supposed to come here on Saturdays. Go out and see life.”
She knew she had to see life-her own life from the closest possible angle, with the help of a magnifying glass to make sure that nothing was left undone. Absolutely nothing, all angles taken care of, all possibilities explored and answered, all and every little detail chalked out as she had learned by now that life has no short cuts. You have to transcend through each and every patch of its footpath, stumble at each pebble, jump over each hurdle or fall, get your feet entangled at each footstep, for life is a process that never leaves you alone. You have to walk trying to keep pace with others that are united with you in this endeavor called journey of life. And however much you wish otherwise, once they have joined you, you have to abide by their rules as well.
She kept sitting and trying to streamline herself, her thoughts and wished she could streamline her life too with such ease. But that was not to be. She finally sent an email to Mrs. Mehdiratta about her leave for absence and walked out of the office building feeling remorse. She felt she may not be able to come to this place of work again. She had invested so much of herself and her time and efforts and a significant part of her life. Not in terms of a long period of time but in terms of quality and passion.
She had lived each and every moment of the time she spent inside this building as well as on outdoor shoots with complete devotion towards life. These were the times that had allowed her to keep her mind away from her turmoil. This place had given her that much sought after refuse she needed at this point in her life. Now she was leaving for how long she did not know. She was not even sure if she would ever return there and this saddened her.
She did not have the reservation for chair car; she did not even have a ticket to board the train. Good sense prevailed and she asked Neha to send one of her office boys with her to drop her at New Delhi Railway station. When he saw the crowd milling at ticket
Counter he volunteered to buy it for her. She was more than willing to part with this ordeal. She waited standing in a corner of this overcrowded place smelling of all sorts of odors, food, fruits, dust, coal, wet floor, people's sweat which was the most prominent of all. People were all over the place. There were people with loads and loads of luggage tagging along. Mehar always wondered at the amount of luggage people carry with them while traveling. There were people traveling with all sorts of things with them. Every imaginable article can be found at any given time at any Railway station of the country. This amused her as she tried to balance herself when a woman carrying two fully laden cloth bags each hanging from one of her shoulders passed by her, dragging Mehar for a little distance as she was caught unaware and was hit by the over loaded lady on her side. She collected herself, maintained her balance again, smiled at the lady but she was already gone, oblivious of the damage her collision with Mehar had done to Mehar's thought process. She collected her poise and bag.
The boy was coming her way victoriously smiling with the ticket in his hand waving at Mehar. She did not have to ask. He came forward with the information that one of his neighbors, a police constable was on duty here. He sent him inside the ticket room to buy it without much hindrance. And here he was with one ticket in his hands in almost no time taking in stock of the long jostling queue in front of the lone ticket window. Now all Mehar had to do was approach the conductor for a seat in the chair car when he arrived, a few minutes before the train's arrival.
She was almost certain that one single seat should not be problem as this was not a holiday season. She sent him back and stood at the platform approximately at the place where that compartment would halt when the train would arrive from Ganga Nagar. It was due in half an hour's time. And it normally returned within twenty minutes of its arriving at New Delhi railway station. As she had expected she did not have much trouble in finding a seat for herself in the car. She soon settled down.
The train began its journey and her aching heart and brain too began to search within her. She left them on their own. For the last few days she had been thinking so much and so often that she had lost the will to gather them to her command to do her bidding. She would simply let them wander as far as they wanted to. She would simply flow with them. Now as the land with all its vegetation was
Moving backwards, the wind was thrusting dust up in the air with the train's forward movement through the passage of air. She was engrossed by the beauty of the world around her.
Trees laden with leaves and birds, acres and acres of greenery, towns filled with all colors that life provides, black tarred roads full of vehicles of all sorts; cars, trucks, buses, tongas, bullock carts, tractors, donkey carts – this is the versatility and beauty of India. Urban India, upcoming India, India of common man, India of the man who does not sit in the cool and cosy interiors of Sansad Bhawan, common man who toils on the farms, on roads, in offices, in schools, in institutions, in factories, outside and inside of rich man's banglows, inside poor man's huts.
India of the rich, India of the poor; India of its fast expanding middle class, that is the backbone of this fast developing economical power on the map of the world. India, when Mehar looks around seems to be keeping pace with the new century that is at the threshold waiting to be unfolded. She feels elated when she sees so much happening around her, India opening up to all sorts of options making them available for the common man at an arm's length.
But it saddens her many times over. It saddens her when she sees little boys serving food to adults in dhabas, washing dishes with little hardened hands that should be holding a ball, playing around and carrying books. It saddens her when the same people who talk about their well being keep them as house helps in their own homes. It saddens her when she watches little kids taking care of privileged little kids. It saddens her when she looks on to the privileged not taking care of the underdog.
For she knows over the time the whole system had become immune to the pain and suffering of those who do not seem to matter to some in this whirlwind of development. But she also knows that the day is not far when they will have to understand that this world belongs to all of us. By merely being more privileged or by making an easy and early buck does not authorize anyone to own the world. It will have to be shared with all and sundry, sooner or later.
It also saddens her when she happens to see women in rural India still lugging water in pitchers on their heads for miles and miles, every single day of their lives.
She saw three women walking in a line parallel to train, in their colorful attire, looking with awe and amusement at the moving train while moving forward with a happy gait. They could not see Mehar but she felt as if they were smiling at her. She felt a little more saddened. Why was she not able to forget everything and be happy like them? Just once... Only once in all her life... She did not have any answer to that.
