Non-erotic The Scarface I Hated by Trambak

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Kiana suddenly stopped, a little embarrassed. I smiled at her. Reassured, she continued, "Life was difficult but we managed and Imran was born. You know, the name Imran was such an accident. The day our son was born, Imran Khan of Pakistan had broken the stumps of an English player. Indra was a big fan of his and I remember he had said that if the two countries had been one, we would have broken the British back and he named our son Imran. Funny, isn't it?"

Not knowing what to say, I said, "But you are '., aren't you?"

Kiana said, "Yes. That's right. Indra was an outright atheist. I wasn't, but being with him, religion had very little influence on our vision. Indra often said that people were using religion to suppress free expression and I found that to be correct."

Kiana drank some water and offered some to me. Though her descriptions of older days with Indranath were directed at me, it was her who was listening. The story deeply engraved in her heart. Possibly, she had never said these to anyone else, at least not in recent times.

Kiana continued, "Life was difficult. We were an odd couple in social circles. Many looked at us with suspicion and our difference in religion was a matter of importance to everyone except us. Financially we were perennially in difficulty but we never bothered about hardships. There were people in greater adversity than us. Imran grew up and showed bursts of intelligence. He was the cynosure of our eyes but we could not provide him the comforts that he needed. Life was tough for him too."

"When Imran was five years, Indra died. I was only 29 years old. I was devastated but Imran had to be brought up. I wiped my tears for good and got back to work. Our difficulties were multiplied manifolds and I had a tough time. We could not stay at one place for more than two or three years. People started asking questions. college authorities despite initial happiness were soon anxious of my past and happy to see us go. We had a past that was difficult to erase. But, I never deviated because Imran was shaping up to be my strength. I knew Imran would be strong enough to withstand the pressures of life. But my dream crumbled. Imran slipped.

Lifelong, we had hated people who took away things that rightfully belonged to the poor because they had no voice. These people simply succumbed to the powerful and the rich. Imran joined hands with them. He too became a snatcher.

The powerful and the influential was now in my home. He failed and I failed. The vision of Indra failed. I had to leave."

Her pain was unmistakeable and true. I could feel her agony. I had felt similar only a few days back.

"Why am I here, do you know? No one in their right senses would be here except those who have nowhere to go. The people you saw today. They create art in fabric, priceless in the country and in the outside world. The vendors come and buy them at a throwaway price. The rich and wealthy wear them, go to the parties and big functions but those who make it are lying in the abyss. No food, no medicine, no doctor, no college and lastly, no hope. I try to reduce their misery and give them hope. I talk to these businessmen who think that these artisans are cheats. They don't see their naked hungry children. Dr Indranath lives in me through these men and women, in their desolation and gloom. Can I leave them?"

I thought for a moment and said, "No."

Kiana lay down in the bed and turned the other side. I held her hand and asked, "Maa, how did he die?"

She caught my hand and through her sobs said, "He was 32. I lost him to a security officer bullet."

End of Pt 03

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Chapter-14

So, just a few days back I was feeling wretched, about my own pitiful existence of 23 years. How life had been unfair to me and how I was persecuted by fate and married off to a scarface against my wishes. Then, in a short time, I came across Imran, Sumitra and now, Kiana. These three were personification of suffering. My challenges, when I introspected seemed like a picnic.

Inexplicably, I had become an integral part of these three. Their miseries were now mine and life had suddenly transformed me to a wife and a sister. But, what could I be to Kiana? Could I be a daughter? Or would I be a friend and a stakeholder in her wrecked life?

Losing husband at 29 to some mysterious accident; bringing up a child and then forcing herself to abandon him. To me, she appeared to be the one abandoned, by life itself. Still, when I looked at her determination, her resolve and her tenacity, I was greatly impressed. She was fighting against a system, submerged in unfair practices. And the government, who was responsible and capable of correcting the wrong, turned a blind eye.

Was she fighting a losing battle? But battles are often lost in the mind. Kiana had refused to lose so easily because she refused to give up. She may have lost a few battles but she was winning a war.

What was I supposed to do? I thought for a long time. Each time I was near some solution, it got muddled. At last, I simply put my arms around Kiana and caressed her forehead. Sleep came and the night along with its extraordinary stories ended with the sunrise.

I came out of the room. This morning, the village looked positively cheerful. And the sweet smell of flowers made me feel like staying here for a few more days.

But, I had a job to do. A job to undo some wrongs. A job to provide some relief, howsoever minimal, to people who had suffered.

Kiana was preparing tea for me. I said without a preamble, "Maa, this is the plan. You come with me for a week and you can return if you feel uncomfortable. I will drop you back."

Kiana looked at me for a long time in a peculiar way and then said, "Yes and no. No, to your dropping me back and yes, to my coming with you. Only for a week, mind you" And so it was decided.

The return train was about 5 hours away. Meanwhile, Kiana arranged a lot of things. Several small little details were worked out. Someone would stay at her house for the period she was out and the menfolk of the village were given instructions if the vendors arrived. The men appeared all at sea and had it not been for Kiana's assurances they would have physically prevented her from departing.

When we finally left, the whole village was around and I felt kind of guilty for snatching their precious Kinudidi away. They were worried sick that she might not return. Today, she finally introduced me as her daughter in law which further demoralised them. So, they judged, that she was going to her son and he may not allow her to come back. The look of worry on their simple faces confirmed the enormous role that she played in their life. She was a part of them and they depended on her. But she would return, I had no doubts about it.

The move to the station was an affair that I won't forget for a long time. A team of 4 fleet-footed boys were dispatched to the railway station to ensure that the train doesn't leave if we got delayed. I tried to reason with them the futility of this action, but they were insistent. Many followed our rickshaw for the full distance. If they had their way, they would follow us all the way, I assumed. Well, all good things come to an end and we reached the station in one piece and well on time. The disappointment on the faces of the scout team that had reached earlier was obvious. We had robbed them of the singular opportunity to stop the train.

The train was still about 15 minutes away and the entire company of boys, girls, adults and olds continuously kept looking at the far end of the railway track (where it met the sky) as if the train would arrive by some providence, simply by looking. Kiana was continuously scolding the boys and was apprehensive lest they run on the railway track and get run over. Fortunately, the number of trains on the route were so few that such a happening was remote.

Finally, the big mass of steel and noise, called 'the train' arrived and we were deposited on the seats with such fanfare that made rest of the passenger's scowl. With great difficulty, Kiana could make the boys detrain. As the train moved out, the boys and girls ran along with the train and Kiana kept shouting at them, scared sick. Finally, the platform ended and the train picked up speed. The boys were defeated.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

She kept on looking through the window till they were no longer visible. She was tearful. She, who had never shed a drop for her husband or the son was crying for these boys and girls. Human relations were crazy, I thought.

As the train moved on towards our destination, Kiana's normal confidence started to dwindle. She became quiet and framed herself in the corner near the window. I tried to carry on a conversation but soon gave up. She was answering in monosyllables and looked tense. Suddenly, I was looking at an old woman stooped by age and anxiety, fearful of facing the world that she had left behind. We reached in the evening and for a moment I had a doubt that Kiana might run away and kept looking back checking on her. Luckily, she followed me and we reached the auto stand and then to home. It was clear that she was not familiar with the house as Imran had changed house after she had left.

I knocked and it was quickly opened by Sumitra. Evidently, she was waiting for my return. For a moment, she was taken aback by the presence of Kiana but she quickly recognized her and stood aside. I guided Kiana inside. She was all nerves and extremely tentative. Sumitra touched her feet but Kiana was lost in herself. I looked at Sumitra and she understood. She carried her meagre luggage in and went inside the kitchen.

I made her sit in the living room and said, "In my house, this is where I make my guests sit." A faint smile crossed her face and she looked up and then down again.

She finally gathered the courage to whisper, "Where is he?"

"He will come from the workshop at 7, still an hour to go." I said in a practical tone.

The wall of courage and strength was gradually weakening and the mother was looking for her child. She was on the verge of a breakdown. But, I needed to keep this courageous woman strong enough to face her son. I did not want Imran to find a weak broken woman. Because that would be incorrect and unjust.

So, I took her around the small house and introduced her to Sumitra. About her, I was not required to tell much and she understood. She looked at Sumitra with a peculiar gaze as if assessing her. For a fleeting moment, I thought that probably she was blaming Sumitra for her son's scar. I immediately forced that idea out of my mind because that was so simply ridiculous. Her gaze finally fell on her own picture on the table. She was again miserable.

"With no news about you, I was planning to put a dry flower garland on it. Ask Sumitra!" I chipped in with additional enthusiasm.

That broke the ice and she regained back her composure. She walked around the house and then came to the kitchen. The tea was ready but she stubbornly shook her head, like a child. I could be very stern with children when needed, and soon she was sipping her tea. I was acutely aware that despite her apparent normalcy, her ears were firmly turned towards the knock on the door. After tea, she took a wash and then I took her to the bedroom and made her sit. Her hair was all dishevelled and I gently combed them.

The knock on the door came and Kiana stiffened.

Comforting her, I went to open the door. Imran was standing in his trademark overhauls. His eyes lit up. Before he could embark on his pranks, I gently nodded towards the bedroom. He looked at me, confused. This time I directed him towards the room again. Unsure, he went.

I sat on the sofa, overcome with anxiety.

Seconds passed into minutes.

Chapter-15

Life had taught me a few things and one of them was to be able to reconcile with one's fate. I had long given up on my impulse to try and bend life as per my wishes. I had realised that it's only by rare providence that things go as we desire. Fate had its own mechanism to constantly surprise us and that is one lesson that I had learnt in the last few days. There were too many variables that made my life move at its own pace and direction. I had accepted it with humility.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Now, sitting alone in the living room I thought about the peculiar direction that my life was turning into. It worried me but I allowed time to take charge of the events that were unfolding. So, I did not interfere with Imran and Kiana's reunion. I did not know what they were talking about and how they would get hold of their complex lives in future. Would they reconcile and resolve their differences? I did not know. I just tried to do what I thought would work but life may have its own directions to move!

I had little idea as to where I was born but I was brought up in this city. We were in Bihar, in a small town made important by the number of coal mines that surrounded it. Located somewhere near Hazaribagh, this town had access to money and political power. On one hand, there were labourers working in the mines and on the other, there were the mine owners who were super rich and obnoxiously connected. Life in this town was strictly divided between haves and have-nots. Between hutments and lavish bungalows and clubs. Between dilapidated government-run colleges and swanky buildings where the children of the mine owners went for education. To support these two communities there was the middle class armed with their shops and businesses. All facilities that the rich preferred were available here. Money floated in the air and one had to be cunning enough to grab it.

Beyond the city limits, there was limitless darkness. Poverty, illness, politicians and their musclemen ruled the lives of all.

I had lost track of time till Sumitra came and sat with me. We sat for some more time though no words were exchanged. Then, I got up and walked to the bedroom. The door was open and both were sitting beside each other, silent. Kiana looked up and waved me to come near. She held my hand and made me sit with her. She continued to caress my hands tenderly, words unspoken, probably saying thanks in her own way.

I understood her emotions perfectly but decided to tease Imran a little. I said obliquely, "You have forgotten me since the time your mother is here. I am not liking this at all."

Imran swallowed hard but Kiana recovered her witty self and said, "Of course, he cannot afford to annoy you. Who knows you may leave him and come to stay with me!" Imran looked up in mock fear and offered a perfect impression of being petrified of losing me. That was well done, I agreed sullenly. After all, he was Kiana's son and Meherunissa's husband!!

The four people who were at home were bound by two common factors. First, the absence of melodrama. Sadness and happiness, both evoked subdued responses. Things could always be worse, thereby allowing a sad event bearable. On the other hand, happiness was treated with caution, lest it turns the other way. This made us appear a little indifferent to others who preferred to wail in sadness and exhibit extreme ecstasy when happy.

Secondly, we all were quiet persons unless the occasion demanded some obligatory speech. Therefore, the connect of the mind though not very obvious to an outsider, worked perfectly for us. So, I concluded that Imran and Kiana had reached some reconciliation though not many words had been spoken. Similarly, Kiana readily accepted Sumitra in our midst although no formal declaration to that effect was forthcoming.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The evening passed in general chit chat though we skirted contentious issues. Kiana appeared mesmerised by the food laid. That was something she had been missing for long. After inspecting it for some time she whispered, "The boys there have never seen so much food."

Understandably, the rest of the dinner was completed in dead silence.

Soon it was time for bed. Kiana was tired and happy to sleep. Imran escorted her to Sumitra's room where the bed was large enough for two. Kiana looked at me and said, "Good night."

We moved back to our bedroom. Imran closed the door and held me in a bearlike embrace. It took me some effort to come out of that. Before he could say something, I asked, "Did you go through the papers in my box. Did you find something?"

"Plenty." He volunteered, staring somewhere unthinkable.

"What?" I demanded.

"First thing first, not now!" He said hoarsely, picked me up and kissed me. Rest was history.

"Thanks," Imran said at the end.

"What for?" I questioned him.

"For everything." He mumbled, looking at me with lustful eyes.

"Nonsense." I pushed him back and added, "What's that 'plenty' thing?"

Imran sat up and there was a sparkle in his eyes, he said, "Look Meher, there are a lot of papers in there. Some are disjointed. But there are two that looks important."

His enthusiasm was infectious. I too was intrigued. At the middle of the night, the box was opened and the contents were taken out. Few of them I had already examined earlier. I was interested in the 'two documents' that Imran mentioned but he was unwilling to start from the middle. He meticulously laid out all the books and documents one by one in some chronology that only he understood. It looked like his workshop where he had a special arranged for his equipment.

Like a true researcher, he started his explanations with the books, "Meher, these are not usual books that people read. These definitely shows leftist leanings of those who had been reading these or maybe trying to influence similar ideology. One book about Paul Robeson is a present to Amaya from Ardeshir."

"Any idea who these two could be?" Imran speculated with interest.

"My parents, most likely." My reply was short and dry.

"Oh!" He was apparently caught off guard.

"Have you read them?" I prodded.

"I have read most of them, earlier." He answered in a dismissive note.

"So, you know everything about Lenin's wife." I teased.

We both were quiet. He said softly, "Considering the age of these books, it was not unusual for persons of that era to seriously follow the Russian revolution or Marxism."

I agreed. Apparently, he knew more about such things.

Then he went on to the newspaper cuttings. He took up the first one that had a scribble 'Chasnala-372'. Imran patiently explained, "On 27thDecember 1975, there was an explosion in the Chasnala coal mine near Dhanbad. The roof collapsed and a huge amount of water gushed in burying alive every miner working underneath. 372 miners were declared dead by the government although it was suspected that about 700 people were killed. The matter was hushed up. Later, a cinema called 'Kala Patthar' was made depicting the tragedy. Nothing happened to the owners of the mine. The families of the victims were given a pittance as compensation."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"How could people be so insensitive?" I said so aloud, shocked and aghast.

Imran nodded sagely and said, "Now, listen to the second one. It is marked Morbi-25000 min. The word 'min' stands for 'minimum'. There was a four-kilometre-long dam on the Machhu river in Gujarat. On 11 Aug 1979, after 10 days of incessant rain the dam collapsed. The water burst out in great volume and swiftly engulfed the Morbi village. Approximately 25000 people were washed away. The government claimed that it was an 'act of God' and supposed negligence by the dam workers. Later on, it was revealed that there were major design defects. Almost no alerts were given to the inhabitants of Morbi before the disaster. This was one of the worst dam disaster ever in history."

Imran paused. I was stunned. I was completely unaware of these two incidents. Such human sufferings were unheard of. I only knew about the Bhopal gas tragedy. I felt ashamed.

Imran finally took out two papers that appeared to be torn from a copy. There were pencil scribblings on it. The first one was a chart with double lettered initials like IT, AA, BI, KA, AR etc. Below on the right, it was SM with a round around it. It made no sense to me.

The second paper was more detailed. It showed dates and time. With each entry was affixed with those initials. Both looked very cryptic and the only thing I could decipher was that efforts had been made to keep the reader guessing.

I looked at Imran. He shook his head and said, "To me, this looks like an organization chart of a secret agency or persons unwilling to allow anyone know about them. But why?"

I was clueless.

Imran added, "And this second chart is obviously a meeting schedule. This too is a secret document."

Again, I had no answers.

Finally, Imran said conclusively, "I have two important questions. First, why is SM circled? And second, why are these documents in your parent's box?"

I felt sick with anxiety. What kind of new twist was this?

Chapter-16

Who were Amaya and Ardeshir? Why were they erased from my life? Why no one ever spoke about them? What was this mystery all about? I had no answer and that made me angry. Imran, meanwhile, like a detective was patiently elaborating on the various possibilities that these papers highlighted. After some time, he realised that while he was talking I wasn't paying attention and suddenly jerked to a halt. He looked at me and sensed something amiss. He at once returned to his normal genial self and said in a mild tone, "I know, this is bothering you. But we need to know, don't we!" I nodded but I was unsure whether I really wanted to know or not.

We sat for a while. Imran collected back all the items and put it back in the box carefully. He said, "Meher. Maybe all these mean nothing. If there is something we will find out. There is no point in getting worried unnecessarily. You must be tired. Let's sleep." And I agreed. This time, I held him tight.

In the morning, I found Imran up and about but in no mood for work. He sent Suresh (who usually presented himself first thing in the morning, without fail) to the workshop with instructions. Imran absenting himself from work was such a rare event that I was pleasantly surprised. Kiana had already been up a long time back and had established a perfect rapport with Sumitra as if they were similar age friends. They were in the middle of some discussion which they suspiciously stopped as I entered the kitchen. I looked at them inquisitively but they refused to divulge anything.

Meanwhile, Imran joined us and started chatting. I noticed that Kiana and Imran were communicating much better and to an extent that it appeared as if they were separated only for a week or so. The breach of 5 years seemed to have melted away. I was really happy at this reunion but was worried that after seven days Kiana would leave. Still, it was a start. Even Sumitra appeared to have impressed Kiana. Only I was feeling a little out of place but I could not put a reason to it. Maybe I was the one who was a newcomer in the family while the rest were sufficiently close! Soon Imran declared that there would be a sumptuous lunch and he was going out shopping.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I could understand Imran's happiness on his mother's return and it was natural for him to celebrate but I had to join college and felt a little bad for missing out. I grudgingly informed them about the college and everyone were quiet. Finally, Imran said in an indifferent tone, "Well, duty is a duty and we must not stop you. You go. I, Sumitra and mother will enjoy." Though unreasonable, I was annoyed at him. He did not even request me once to stay back. His mother had suddenly become his priority. Irritated, I curtly left the table, got ready and left for the college. They continued talking and did not even say goodbye.

On my way to college, I thought about the strange human mindset. It was painful to see people turn their back on you who you thought would never do so. Situations dictated the behaviour of humans. Once the difficult times were over, they forgot everything till a new predicament surfaced. I did not blame Imran, he had suffered enough and the sudden appearance of his mother naturally unsettled him. Although I was responsible for the reunion, it would have been too selfish and immature of me to have claimed that. It was a job that I had volunteered and was not forced to do. But, it was Kiana's behaviour that hurt me. She did not speak a word to me since last night. What did I do to deserve such coldness? Where did I go wrong?

Distressed, I reached the college. I remained upset the whole day. Small little mistakes by students irritated me. Finally, the day ended but I did not feel like going back. The place I thought was my home was being snatched away. Still, I returned. Near home, Suresh was waiting for me. He informed me that the three of them had gone to see a movie and the house was locked. He was to take me to the workshop for a couple of hours till they returned. That was the final straw. Had Suresh not been such a nice boy, he would have been in danger of some serious physical damage. Clenching my teeth, I allowed him to take me to the workshop where I had to wait in the reception for two hours (Mr Desai was on leave and his office was locked). At last, Suresh was kind enough to take me back to the house that I wrongly thought to be my home.

As I entered, I found a complete transformation and there was lovely decoration all around. Mr Desai and many others were sitting around and for a moment I thought that I may have entered a wrong house. But Kiana was there in all her enigmatic self. And Imran was there smiling at me. Sumitra too was standing in one corner. What was happening, I did not know. What was I to do? Kiana came forward, kissed me on my forehead and escorted me inside holding my hand. To my great surprise, I found Shubhra Mukherjee (nowadays I called her Shubhradi) sitting on the dining table. She chuckled, "Don't be surprised Meher. Kiana and I are good friends. Actually, Imran invited me and I wouldn't have missed it for anything." I was completely lost so I stopped thinking about explanations.

Kiana pulled me to the centre of the room and started speaking. She spoke with confidence. She had a charming voice that attracted everyone at once. She said, "I wish to say something and I will not get this opportunity again. I have been living away from my son for five years. I had taken this decision because I strongly felt that Imran had deviated from the path that me and my dead husband Indra thought was right. I may have been wrong but at that time it was a decision that I felt was correct. Both of us have gone through very difficult times especially him. Imran has shown a strength of character of which I am proud of. Everyone makes mistakes and to recognize and to correct that is not an easy task."

She paused for a moment, assimilating her thoughts and continued, "But this is not about me or Imran. Today, it is all about Meherunissa, my beloved Meher who has made me feel the strength of love all over again. She has singlehandedly brought us back to life. From death. Had it not been for her, my family would have crumbled to dust. Words of thanks will do no justice because by doing it I will only demean her. Though she is much younger to me, I for one find a mother in her in whom I could put all my faith in." And she stopped.

She looked at me and said, "I am really sorry that we played such a miserable prank on you this morning. It was all Imran's idea. Let me hand over the culprit to you forever. Deal with him as you please. I suggest, severely!"

And she called Imran to her side. He was flashing his stupid smile at me. I looked the other way. Surely, I would deal with him later. I was overwhelmed by the words of Kiana. For a moment, I was feeling that she was talking about someone else. It was so unreal. Apart from my headmistress in my college no one ever had anything good to say about me (except Imran! But he was always saying good things. He could be least counted upon to give an honest opinion).

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The evening progressed beautifully. Suresh, Sumitra and Kiana were all happy and effusive. Mr Desai turned out to be a fabulous singer. Even Shubhradi was looking radiant. She and Kiana often snatched a bit of gossip amongst each other. Imran was all over the place entertaining Mr Desai and often looking sheepishly at me, trying to make

up but I was in no mood to let him off the hook so easily. And then there was this fabulous dinner. Most of my favourite food was there although I had no clue about the source of the information.

Fortunately, Kiana, this time spared us the embarrassment by not mentioning the 'lack of food' in her native place (that's where she belonged to, now!).

Everyone departed in a good mood. Mr Desai sang a farewell song and that induced some more chatting. It was an evening that was enormously fulfilling. Shubhradi squeezed my hands gently and gave a reassuring smile. I felt blessed.

Sumitra was happy but I noticed some disinclination in Suresh to leave. I needed to sort that out. I also had to sort out Imran who made my entire day such a wreck. Mother or no mother.

As I entered the bedroom I found him waiting. I had rehearsed my lines that would have made him regret his foolishness. But that brute did not give me a chance and hugged me with such force that I was totally breathless. I struggled but he tightened the grip further and kept at it. Finally, I gave up.

Brute!!

Chapter-17

Early in the morning, Kiana proposed the honeymoon. Imran was sheepish. I was confused and Sumitra was overjoyed.

Kiana looked pointedly at Sumitra and said, "You need not be so happy Sumi. I am talking about these two." Instantly, Sumitra's face assumed the colour of a beetroot.

Kiana looked at me and said in a matter of fact tone, "If you depend on this ass then forget about it. It will never happen. He will talk about expenses and workshop. Of course, you are also not much behind in making up excuses. So, I have arranged something in a nice place, not too far off. Three days and come back because I will have to leave. And please make sure that my son does not pinch pennies on expenses! It's quite possible."

I looked at Imran and said to Kiana, "Maa, I don't know about pennies but your son is so good at playing tricks. He may be thinking that this is another one of them."

Imran looked cross.

Kiana whispered into my ears with her covert suggestion, "Don't talk to him for today. Will serve him right."

I whispered back with picture-perfect annoyance, "I am not talking to him for a year."

Kiana was back into my ears, pleading, "No darling, only for today. Tomorrow you are off on your honeymoon. Please be nice to him there. Your husband's poor mother is requesting." And she made a poker face. I had to laugh aloud.

Kiana was such a joker albeit a brainy one.

"Where are you forcing me to go?" Imran asked morosely, irritated at the treatment he was being bestowed upon.

Kiana replied at once, "Netarhat".

Imran gave a start and looked up. Kiana patted his hand and nodded her head.

So, it was settled. For background information, Kiana had already got my leave sanctioned by Shubhradi yesterday. Only Imran needed to tie loose ends at his workshop. Suresh was driving us there and a lodge had been booked. At Netarhat, District-Palamu, State-Bihar.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Now the drama was only awaiting the shout 'light and action'!

But why did Imran get surprised when he heard 'Netarhat'?

Meanwhile, Suresh and Sumitra were having one of their endless discussions near the kitchen away from us. It appeared to me as if she was trying to drill something into his head and Suresh, the poor fellow was in great discomfort. As far as I was concerned, I was warming up to the idea of this trip. Somehow, the place Netarhat was pulling me towards it. The name had an intoxicating feel to it and I was raring to go.

Imran was out on one of his endless errands. He was missing for the entire morning and returned only during lunch. I needed to talk to him about our impending trip. He completely ignored me, concentrated on his lunch and then came to the bedroom. I asked sarcastically, "Can I take some of your precious time?" He looked blankly at me and I had to repeat myself. He walked dreamily to me and as if suddenly remembered something said, "No, no. I am very busy. Got to go now. Immediately. Later, in the evening, we will talk, okay?" He pinched both my cheeks (I hate that!) and lay down on the bed and started snoring almost at once. I kept standing foolishly. It was silly of me to talk to him. Ungrateful devil.

For a moment, I had the intense urge to yank him out of the bed. I was sure that he was only pretending to be asleep. Then, I recalled the awkward situation I had faced only a few days back and therefore, I refrained.

Kiana and Sumitra were waiting for me and I joined them. I angrily mentioned about Imran's behaviour. Kiana took one slanted look at me through her spectacles and said aloud to no one in particular as to how youngsters should heed the advice of elders. Sumitra was looking elsewhere trying to suppress a laughter and in the process distorting her face. It was so annoying. Honestly.

To retaliate, I probingly looked at Kiana and commented a bit severely that whether it was advisable for a young lady to go out for three days with a devious man such as Imran simply because his mother was insisting. It could be dangerous. Undaunted, Kiana added that it was indeed dangerous because the driver named Suresh had suddenly been found indisposed and Imran would have to drive himself and poor Meherunissa would be alone with the monster. This was news to me and one look at Sumitra confirmed her contribution to this malpractice. That's precisely what was being discussed in the morning between the two of them. My scorching look made her squirm but Kiana took over and said with mock humility that it was criminal to allow a third person to butt in the affairs of a newlywed couple and I should accept the changes in the plan with grace if not glee.

It was impossible to win against these two (rather three, Imran included) scheming characters.

Despite such all-around treachery, I suddenly felt distraught as to how would life be once Kiana left. I could not even imagine it and I decided to forgive her antics. We had lunch quietly and as we were finishing Imran breezed in and left murmuring something about 'lots of things to do' and 'will try to come back as soon as possible'. And that's that.

We chit chatted and I tried to obtain some information about Netarhat but nothing was forthcoming from Kiana except that 'all will be revealed in due course' kind of approach. By now, I could understand her nature and did not make any smart comments. On the other hand, Sumitra had started adoring Kiana and was so impressed that for a moment I thought that she would physically prevent Kiana from leaving. But, I knew that beneath the milder exterior lay the strong and impenetrable woman ravaged by life.

I was finally pushed by both to pack my bags and that was easily accomplished. But I had no clue what to pack for Imran. Sumitra volunteered but Kiana stopped her from doing so. She declared loftily that it was high time that the menfolk did their own packing. She was such a darling but Sumitra was disappointed. But she was so overawed by Kiana that she dared not contradict her. She looked at me pleadingly but I too wasn't in a position to oppose her. So, the matter had to rest there.

After some time, Kiana caught me by the hand and silently motioned me to come with her. Sumitra was arranging the clothes of Imran on the bed. She had also kept a bag nearby for ready help. She was methodically placing things for him. Kiana signalled me to move away and we returned to the living room.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Kiana said in a low tone, "Meher, Sumitra has made Imran so very dependent on her. This needs to be corrected. Don't you think so?"

I thought for a while and agreed. I put my arm around her shoulder and said, "Maa, Sumitra owes her life to Imran and her devotion to him is beyond question. No one can replace her in this family. She will feel insecure if I say anything and even Imran will feel bad. I cannot let that happen."

Kiana kept staring at me, trying to decipher what I just said and then ruffled my hairs and said with a twinkle in her eyes, "Why are you so worried? What's Sumitra to you?"

I smiled at this odd question but by now the reply was known to me, "Maa, Sumitra is the saviour who preserved Imran for me." And after a pause added, "and for you. And we both must never forget that!"

I never saw her turn so emotional. She said, "Meher, I have a small gold trinket, my last remembrance of Indra. I had brought that for you. But, maybe we owe that to Sumitra as our humble gratitude. Can I, Meher?"

Even I became emotional, I could only whisper, "Yes, you must". I said. "Though we can never repay our debts."

Kiana's face glowed with happiness. She kissed me tenderly on the forehead and brought out a small box that held her last valuable possession. She pulled me along to the room and faced Sumitra. She was surprised being caught red-handed for doing something for which there was a prohibition order. She looked down, fidgeting in silence. Kiana was not a woman to waste words. She took out the thin chain with a minute pendant and put it around her neck and hugged Sumitra tightly.

Sumitra openly cried, Kiana, nuzzled her nose in Sumitra's hair, trying her best not to be weak. My eyes were wet. I was surprised at my own capacity to cry. In the last few days, I had allowed my tears to flow often. Was I transforming into a warmer person, I wondered!

The price of that thin chain was beyond any market value. It was a living witness to the difficult times and the love of Indra for his wife. His wife, in turn, devoted her entire life to that great remembrance. For a normal onlooker, the emotions that were expressed for that tiny bit of ornament would have appeared absurd but for Kiana and Sumitra, it was a defining moment. It was a crucial responsibility that was being transferred from one to another. From one great to another. And I was the witness to that.

Perhaps, unknown to all of us that single piece of cheap jewellery somehow designed our future. Of responsibilities and eventual sufferings.

The next two hours passed in a sombre mood. Even Kiana appeared to be in deep thought and so was I. However, it was Sumitra who was affected the most. For her, it was a test by fire that she had passed with flying colours. She was not only accepted into the family but was accorded a status of great importance.

I suddenly had a bizarre thought. Was Kiana actually preparing to dissociate herself from the family for a final goodbye? It was possible. I could ponder over it but could I change it?

Kiana could be predictably unpredictable! And her decisions were usually irrevocable.

Slowly, we all returned to normalcy and Kiana seamlessly reverted to her funny quirky self. As usual, Sumitra was the sole recipient of her funny pokes. She continually fell into traps one after another till she wept, out of sheer frustration. I was careful and avoided them.

Kiana thoroughly enjoyed. Sometimes I had serious doubts about her sanity.

Imran returned in the evening. He looked shattered.

End of Pt 04

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Chapter-18

He breezed in and cried gruffly, "Suresh is missing"!!

Kiana and Sumitra concentrated on their inconsequential work with utmost gravity and in right earnest.

I seized the opportunity and said dramatically, "Oh! No! How? When? Where could he have gone?"

"God only knows. There is no news. Even his mother doesn't know." Imran was frantic.

I looked at the two mischief makers who solidly strengthened their labour.

Imran soon realized that the necessary anxiety that was expected was not forthcoming. He narrowed his brows and inspected the two intensely hardworking women and then me. He sat down with a thud. Relieved.

After some time, he said disparagingly, "Hmmm. For such a small thing, he need not have disappeared."

After a pause, he asked me sweetly, "May I know who is the mastermind?"

Being an obedient and dutiful wife, I pointed out the offenders without any qualms.

Imran got up in feigned anger and pulled Sumitra's braids and said severely, "Next time you try any such stunt, I will call off your marriage to Suresh!"

Well, that was some news. Me and Kiana turned to look at Imran with surprised but probing eyes.

Sumitra turned red with embarrassment and ran to her room.

Imran momentarily scratched his head and said, "What? What's wrong with the match?"

Kiana remarked scornfully, "Since when have you started matchmaking? From your own I presume!"

I was about to object! Poor Imran was only a pawn (though wilful) in the conspiracy but the twitch at the corner of her lips was a dead giveaway and I controlled myself in time.

Imran lamented in a (very) sad voice, "Yes. If the mother is not interested in settling his son, what else can he do?"

The discussion was veering towards dangerous territories and there was all round melodrama (false though). To spice things up I added with mildly inflated enthusiasm, "Maa, since Suresh is unwell, you can come with us."

Kiana pointed her crooked fingers at me and said with contempt, "So that you can push me down the cliff and get rid of me? Sorry, I wish to live longer till I have six grandchildren who would pester you so much that only then you would understand how devious children are!"

"Six?" Both me and Imran exclaimed in unison.

Imran pointed a finger at me and said sullenly, "Here, Meher wants children. Ask her."

I pounced on him playfully and said, "Right you are! But not six. Maybe... Two?"

Imran wailed, "Do you have any idea what a nuisance they are. And can we afford them?"

Kiana interjected, her brows slanted upwards "Yes, children are pests. Just look at yourself. And you have the stupidity to speak about expenses. Meher! How do you tolerate him?"

Suddenly Imran brightened up and walked up to Kiana and held her by her shoulders and said, "Maa. Forget the children. Both of us together can pester you more than the children. I promise."

And then with a small pause said wistfully, "Stay with us."

The inner desire of Imran was not lost on Kiana who looked fondly at her scarred son. Were her eyes moist? I thought so. She finally said in a small voice, "I can't. You know that."

Imran looked the other way in anguish.

And she looked at me for support.

I took her hands into mine and said earnestly, "Maa! Stay with us. No, stay with me. Please."

Filled with pain, she said, "Meher, don't make me weak. You know. I have to go back."

Kiana's inner strength was under severe duress. Her face contorted, she violently shook her head and abruptly walked out of the room. Maybe, out of our life.

Imran shouted hoarsely as she left, "Don't stay! Leave! Leave now!"

Then after a while he said in a whisper, "Who am I to you?"

He looked at me in agony, his eyes red and murmured, "Am I that bad. Will she never come back to me?"

He stood like a statue trying hard to supress his passions. I hugged him from behind. He took my hands and kept holding them as if he would never let me go. I let him. We both stood as one.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

How long? I lost count of time. Imran sighed, let me go and sat down. Between the adamant mother and the distressed son, I stood, not knowing what to do. For both, the pain was limitless and I had no solutions.

We continued to sit in silence. The tornado of love left us devastated.

But after some time, prudence returned in the form of Sumitra who by now had recovered from her initial discomfiture and was back to her mature self. She quickly laid out the food and in a business-like manner gathered all the inmates. Her deadpan face rather helped everyone to emerge out of the sudden emotional upheaval. She was the release that I couldn't be.

Soon, she was all about our impending journey and the things we needed to pack. And asked questions like whether Netarhat will be cold or not? Imran looked at her in apparent annoyance but she was in her brilliant chirpy self, in complete control. Obviously, she was quite aware of the terrain of Bihar. She knew almost everything about the flora, fauna and the good food of Netarhat. After all, she was a geology student in college and a smart one at that.

Finally, Kiana in her inimitable expressionless voice reminded Sumitra (once again) that her enthusiasm was misplaced as it wasn't her honeymoon. This time Sumitra brushed aside the insult with a wave of her hand and continued her commentary.

I was worried about Imran driving and contemplated bringing up the issue but decided against it. After all, an automobile engineer heading a workshop was expected to know driving. So, I allowed the query to pass.

Sumitra concluded her sermons and almost physically pushed us to our bedroom lest we oversleep and miss the marching time in the morning. The bags were packed and the scene was set. I was happy and was eager to get going. I felt like a small child who gets all excited about a train ride. I even forgave Imran for his abominable behaviour, the day before.

Imran looked shamefaced and said, plainly embarrassed, "I shouted at Maa!"

I could see that. The only thing I could do was to make him feel a little better. I pulled him to the bed and kissed him on the lips. I looked into his eyes and said, "Maa knows, you are hurt. She understands.

A bit relieved, he said, "But you are still angry. Aren't you.?"

I rolled my eyes and pulled his cheek in mock anger. He cried out in pain. I said sternly, "You will be punished for this."

And smothered his lips with mine.

For a long time, I punished him severely enough. But the devil appeared to enjoy and even participated actively in the proceedings. Sleep came through and we dropped away to a blissful slumber, in each other's arms. Today, my contentment was complete and I truly had become one of them with all rights, all privileges and all liberties. Today, I had a mother and I had a say. I got what I never had.

In my sleep, I dreamt of a mountain cliff. As I stood on the edge, looking down, clouds were swirling up from the limitless bottom drenching my face with sweet smelling mist. Butterflies in brilliant colours rose towards me and I tried to catch them like a small girl. I..., I then slipped and fell through a void. I struggled but I kept falling. I shouted for help and looked towards the darkness below. But the fall was smooth as if I was floating in air. I gave up and after an eternity landed softly, in the arms of a man with a scar. I woke up and Imran was looking at me, anxiety written all over.

He said without a preamble, "What happened? You were saying something?"

Confused, I looked at his face. His scar had turned red.

He tenderly touched my face and said in a kind voice, "Did you see a bad dream Meher?"

Relived, I pulled his head towards me, shut my eyes and said with great satisfaction, "No Imran, it was a good dream."

The night was over. Faint light from the east ushered in a new day with a promise.

We were ready to move.

Chapter-19

In no time, we were ready. The car sans the driver was neatly parked in front of the house, washed and shining. It was a white Zen raring to go. The farewell team was ready with all their last moment advises. Kiana was standing with a serene look on her face. Sumitra was standing behind her with both her hands firmly holding Kiana's shoulders. The orange rays of the sun imparted an ethereal glow to their respective faces. It was a glow of happiness and contentment. For a moment, I had a great urge to take both of them with us. But when I visualised the scorn that Kiana was likely to adopt I quickly dropped the idea.

Imran had loaded the car. And the large cane basket ostensibly filled with a variety of food items was carefully placed in the back. Everything done, he critically examined a camera and the reels. At sharp 6.15, Imran started the car to a purring start and for the first time I sat with my husband on the front seat, all alone. He smoothly eased the car out on the road. They waved frantically and we waved back. And finally, we were on our way.

As if we were on an adventure to some unknown magical land!

The car moved through the sleepy town. People were slowly congregating around the tea stalls. The aroma of the freshly ignited coal was all too pervasive. The cold wind rushed through the windows ruffling my hair bringing tears to my eyes. It was all too dreamy. I looked at Imran and touched his naked arm lightly. The stupid fellow at once twisted his body away and cried, "Hey! Don't tickle me". That was the end of my foray into the romantic gestures, for the time being.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

But I was undaunted by minor things like rebuff by Imran. I was at another plane altogether. The morning light looked so beautiful, so enchanted. And the scarface was with me. My own scarface. I wanted to talk to him, cuddle him, make him my own. I glanced at him, lo and behold he found exactly the same moment to look at me. Our eyes met and we hurriedly looked the other side. What the heck! Why did I look away?

I looked at him again and caught him red handed, staring at me.

Imran: "Don't look at me like that. I am driving."

Me: "Who says I am looking at you? You are looking at me."

Imran: "Don't do it? How will I control the car if I get out of control?"

Me: "Just because you have no control on yourself you cannot stop me from looking wherever I like!"

Imran: "But why are you staring at me? Am I some sort of zebra or something."

Me: "Who knows? But I am not looking at you. I am looking at the hills out there. Will we go through them?"

Imran glanced at the mountains that looked distant due to the morning mist. He smiled enigmatically and sped up. The road was empty and I persisted. "Tell me!". He didn't answer and soon, to my amazement we had entered the Ghats of Chhotanagpur. The road curled ahead like a snake, gradually climbing up. At a bend, Imran stopped and pulled me out. We stood together on the edge, like I saw in my dreams. The town looked like a picture postcard. The houses looked so small. I was back to my childhood of which I remembered little. For me there were no dolls, no doll houses. I wanted a doll for myself, so badly.

As if on a cue Imran put his arms around my shoulders and I reciprocated. We stood facing the sun. A whiff of cold wind suddenly brushed across my face and again Imran held me a wee bit tighter, comforting me. Then Imran looked at me, his eyes twinkling and said, "Hey! We need to move. There will be more beautiful places on the way."

I shook my head, I wanted to stay there. Imran was thoughtful. He locked the car and nudged me across the road and to a cluster of dense bushes. He made me go through it and found a narrow jungle lane. He held my hands and guided me and after two minutes we reached an opening. There was a small stream that crossed an oval space and the grass was so green along it. A flat stone was nearby. Imran climbed up and lay down, both his arms tucked under his head. At once, I knew that this was his private lair. The den of the lion. But the place was so serene, so peaceful and so picturesque. And it was quiet. We both sat for a while and then we moved out slowly. I knew that I would come back to this place. Not once but many times. For peace and solitude.

Once we were in the car, I interrogated him, "So this is where you brought your girlfriends?"

"Yup." Imran replied nonchalantly.

"So, you did bring them in here." I repeated the statement.

"Yup." He reiterated his stance.

"How many?" I probed further.

"Countless." He countered.

"What happened here?" I asked, breathless.

"They ran away when they saw me."

"Sure?"

"Sure."

"What a relief." I croaked.

"You too must run away." Imran said seriously.

"I can't." I said with sadness.

"Why? Who's stopping you?"

In perfect sadness I said, "Where will I go? I am an orphan. Chacha has bound my hands and legs and thrown me in the river. I cannot run away."

"Who's stopping you?" Imran was persistent.

I dramatically pointed a finger at him and said in an anguished note, "You!"

And we laughed together.

Bliss.

In some time, we reached Ranchi. Since childhood, the only fact I knew about Ranchi was that it housed the infamous mental asylum at Kanke.

The city looked nice and normal but Imran bypassed the main tow

[Ramesh_Rocky]

The city looked nice and normal but Imran bypassed the main town and soon we were moving towards our eventual destination.

There was a perceptible change in the nature of the trees and the surroundings. The jungle had turned deeper and darker. The tall 'Sal' trees were swinging with the wind in a drunken stupor, the tops straining to touch each other and then moving apart. The roads were silent. The car moved and Imran concentrated on the road. Slowly, we were deep inside the jungle. We hardly met any other vehicles or humans.

At a particularly dark jungle Imran stopped the car and asked me to come out. Though I felt a little afraid but I stood out and looked inquisitively at Imran. Before I could say something, he put his fingers on the lips and said in a low voice, "Listen carefully, don't speak".

I listened carefully. For a moment, everything appeared normal. I looked back at him. He tenderly put his palm on my eyes and whispered, "Close your eyes and listen."

And I did as instruct and then I could hear the swishing sound of the wind blowing through the Sal trees. I could suddenly hear a 'tik tik' sound just behind me then another one to my right. All of a sudden, a croak was on my left. The 'tik tik' vanished and the croak replaced it. In no time, I could hear myriad sounds all different and unique. I was literally surrounded by them, so near that I could touch them. After a long time, I opened my eyes and found Imran smiling at me. It was an experience that I haven't forgotten till date.

We continued to move through this unprecedented serenity and quiet till we reached a town called Daltonganj. Imran stopped the car at a roadside shack and ordered tea. The small boy rushed to clean the single bench and the shop owner made fresh tea. He cleaned two cups vigorously reserved only for VIPs like us. It was a simple tea in a blue white ceramic cup lined by hairline cracks, smoke emerging from the surface and filling me with an incredible aroma. The tea with two "ledo" biscuits (rural rusk) simply made my day.

I looked around and nudged Imran. He was thinking something and turned towards me a bit startled. I said casually, "You have been here before. Haven't you?"

He looked at me with an interesting gaze and said quietly, "I know this place like the back of my hands. I can never forget this place."

I was suddenly alert and asked him carefully observing his reaction, "Have you been here recently."

Imran looked towards the road dreamily and said with a slow drawl, "No, not recently. I was here years back but the memories are too strong."

"Will you tell me about them?"

"Yes, I will. Maa has sent us here for that. Only I am not sure."

"Why?"

"I don't know whether the time is right or not?"

"Of course, it is right. I am ready and I am curious."

"I know but give me some time." Imran said.

We kept sitting. The solitude and the tea shop were our companion.

Chapter-20

The last few sentences by Imran alerted me. Knowing Kiana, I was very convinced that our journey to Netarhat held more secrets than the simple conjugal bliss that was being portrayed. The terrain and Imran's intimacy with the locality obviously hid recollections of his younger days. And they appeared to be firmly imprinted in his memories. Whether these were happy or sad, only he could tell. But he appeared a little unwilling to do so at the present time and it wouldn't be prudent for me to push the issue now.

After some time, we moved again. This time the road climbed uphill. The forest became lighter. The sun filtered through and the trees looked red. Thrilling, absolutely. Stunning, absolutely.

Since Imran was still taking his time to think about his own life, I thought I could get a few inputs on something else.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Don't you think, you are hurrying Sumitra's marriage to Suresh? She is still college going!"

Imran gave a start, obviously, his mind was elsewhere, and he fumbled, "Whose marriage, Sumitra's? Who said she was getting married?"

"You said so." I reminded him politely.

Clearly, Imran had blurted out his deep-seated desire in a rather premature fashion precipitated by his frustration, on being taken for a ride by Sumitra and Kiana yesterday. Still, I wanted to know what precisely he was thinking about them.

Imran knew that he was being cornered. He threw up his driving hand and said, "What's the harm? It's not happening immediately."

I said pointedly, "Do you think Suresh is a suitable match for Sumitra?"

Imran was now more poised and said, "Meher, their lives are not that simple. They have baggage specially Sumitra, you know that. I must be careful about her future. It's too complicated."

I realised that but I was still thinking about the match. Imran sensed it and said, "I would be very difficult to get Sumitra married. Many know what happened to her. Her parents have disowned her and she has been practically staying with a me for five years. The society is not going to be kind. Things are far from normal and I have to take everything into account."

There was a dreaminess in his eyes as if saying to himself, he said, "Suresh loves her and he will be able to give her the support she needs. I am not in a hurry. I will make them both self-sufficient and then we will see. Nothing is decided as yet."

I was proud of him. He thought so much ahead. Still, I tried to tease him a bit and said in jest, "Why don't you ask your 'Bhavaniji' to do something? After all, he is the one responsible for all this!"

Imran laughed aloud and said, "Ah! Bhavaniji? I know what he is going to say. You want to know?"

"Sure," I said.

Imran brought his face near my ears and said, "He will say, Imran! Marry her. You can marry four times. Oh! Meher! It would be so thrilling! What do you say?"

He laughed aloud. I did not find anything thrilling about the statement. Annoyed, I looked the other way.

Imran continued to laugh, shaking his body, thoroughly satisfied with his own joke! I studied my nails. I had a tremendous urge to inflict some additional scars on his stupid face.

Suddenly with great seriousness, Imran said, "Who are we to blame anyone for our misfortunes. We create our destinies ourselves. Who knows it better than me? I don't dare blame anyone else!"

Suddenly a poignant moment was reached. I realised that scars were part of Imran's life and it was insensitive of me to bring up this issue casually. I took note of this incident.

"I know Imran. I will remember this." That was all I could say.

"We are almost there!" Imran announced and we suddenly moved into the small hilly town picture perfect in all respects. On the way to our hotel, we passed a large residential college. Imran stopped at the gate momentarily and then moved on. He looked longingly at the building inside as if his story someway, was closely associated with it.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Soon we reached the hotel and as we entered the compound, a caretaker rushed forward to welcome us. The hotel was perched on top of a hill with a large garden in front overlooking the valley. The double storeyed building had a quaint look typical of the British style with a porch and dense creepers climbing the frontage. A wide verandah surrounded the building. A large staircase climbed up from the foyer splitting into two. Our room was on the first floor with a terrace on the front. It was beautiful complete with a fireplace, sofa set, a glass topped table and a set of cane chairs on the terrace. And a Dunlop bed large enough for four. Kiana seemed to have booked the best for us. Had she left it to us, we would have avoided the luxury. Waste of money, indeed.

By the time we unpacked, the tea was ready and the cook had arrived to ask our preferences for lunch. He humbly suggested that people of importance (like us) preferred rice and chicken stew. He went on to explain as to how the British Sahebs would make this gruesome journey only to enjoy the sunrise and the chicken stew prepared by his erstwhile father about 40 years back. He did not fail to mention the fact that during those days tigers and leopards would frequently be seen inside the premises from the adjoining "Betla" reserve.

Seeing my worried look, he quickly added that there was no such danger, nowadays.

Imran, as advised by Manirul mian (the cook) ordered our lunch accordingly, who informed us that anticipating the order the said food was ready and if the 'badasahib and memsahib' (us!!) desired, the same could be served without delay.

The credit for our elevation in our status surely went to the room booked and the personal car.

The food was just too good. To be frank, it was the first time that I was having chicken stew though Imran appeared to be familiar with it. Manirul mian remained in personal attendance throughout the meal. His sincere requests for us to eat a little more made Imran gorge in such a way that I was trifle worried. Overall, it was a unique experience.

The autumn was approaching and the forests below us were assuming a colour of the fire. The afternoon sun though strong was slowly losing its scorching capacity. The evenings were comfortable, I was told. We sat on the chairs laid out in the garden under a garden umbrella. It was an ideal place to relax. The time was frozen here. There was no anxiety, no fear. We had no trains to catch. A dragonfly started to fly around me. The warmth, the excellent meal and the tiredness pulled me into the lap of sleep. When I dozed off, I never knew

How long did I sleep? Who cared really? I was on a honeymoon and I had someone to take care of everything. Why would I bother? The warm wind blowing in brought sweet intoxicating fragrance of mahua dragging me deeper into a drunken stupor. And, then? Someone was holding me, caressing my hair, my lips, my entire being. I could lie there till eternity.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Then the caress stopped and a sweet sound of 'tunk tunk' replaced it. I woke.

My eyes were still heavy and I groped around blindly to get hold of the hand that I owned.

It wasn't there. How irritating!!

"Get up, tea is here." The owner of the missing hand whispered softly.

What nonsense! Who is he to tell me when to take tea?

The Scarface mumbled, "Manirul mian is here with tea."

Manirul mian was very carefully preparing tea using an elaborate procedure. Teapot, tea cosy, sugar pot, milk pot, bone china cups, everything was there. And the 'tunk tunk'? The sound of the spoon in the cup, that too.

Startled, I got up, thoroughly embarrassed. Mianji smiled sweetly and handed over the tea to me. Darjeeling orange pekoe, first flush, he informed us with humility. I looked at the tea. There was no milk in it!

"You must have it without milk." He said kindly. I took the cup and assumed an expression of knowing this entire trivia, since birth.

The biscuits? It was there too. Before I could be told their ancestry, I interjected, "Oh! Cream Crackers, I love them." Manirul mian was a trifle disappointed, it seemed. With an elaborate bow, he left us to have our tea.

"What a nice man," Imran said.

"Hmmm," I replied.

"He is really looking after us," Imran said.

"Hmmm," I replied.

"What?" Imran asked.

"Nothing", I said.

Precisely after ten minutes, he returned to collect the cups and it was time for the dinner orders. The one-act dialogue went thus.

Manirul: What would memsahib like for dinner?

Badasahib: What do you suggest?

Manirul: Anything memsahib wishes.

Badasahib: What is available?

Manirul: Memsahib? Have you tried the "Dakbunglow Mutton" and Moglai paratha?

Badasahib: That would be fantastic. What do you say Meher?

Manirul: Absolutely. Memsahib would love it.

Memsahib: Can we have some rice and dal?

Manirul: What? Rice and dal?

Memsahib: Yes. Can we?

Badasahib: Meher! Listen!

Manirul: Badasahib is saying something, memsahib!

Memsahib: Badasahib loves rice and dal.

Manirul: Some Italian omelettes then, to go with rice.

Memsahib: Only Indian omelettes.

Manirul mian exits in utter dissatisfaction.

Imran: Meher!!

Meher: Yes?

Imran: Ohh! Nothing, actually.

I slyly looked at Imran, trying to gauge his mood. As expected, he was trying to understand the genesis of the dinner menu. In all probability, he was accusing himself of having made some blunder, about which he had no inkling whatsoever.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I smiled at him and his face lit up with anticipation. Though he still did not understand anything.

"Why are we here?" I asked him sweetly.

He was all at sea. His face looked like a student attending a difficult viva.

"For a honeymoon," I answered on his behalf.

He kept quiet but there was a faint sparkle in his eyes.

"What would a heavy dinner make you?" I continued the viva.

He scratched his head and said, acting dumb, "I have no clue. You tell!"

Continuing the stern teacher's role, I said, "The correct answer is 'lazy'. I must call your mother and tell her that your progress is unsatisfactory."

Continuing the drama, Imran got up and caught both my hands and looked deeply into my eyes and said in a pleading tone, "Please don't tell anything to my mother! I beg you!"

And then, without giving me a chance, he simply picked me up like a rag doll and kissed me. It was intense. Together, we crashed into the bed so soft and so inviting.

"It's evening! Not night." I protested weakly.

"Evening shows the night." He retorted with pride.

"Morning shows the day." I corrected him.

"Shut up." He said.

"Okay". I answered meekly.

The evening culminated in a night. Our honeymoon had begun.

That night, two things happened. First, we had an exquisite meal. I never imagined that a simple rice and dal could taste so well and so different. The omelettes were heavenly. Manirul mian was a master crafter, exceptionally skilled.

The second, I heard a story from Imran that night. I cannot forget it ever.

End of Pt. 5

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Chapter-21

Our evening passed doing what was destined for the night. Two humans had become one as ordained from the prehistoric times by the act of love transcending times. From caves to homes; from Pithecanthropus to the Neanderthals to the Homo sapiens, the passion remained unchanged.

Imran was insatiable. For a comical moment, it appeared to me that the tiger had returned to the hotel. Just like old British time. We fell asleep in each other's arms till I was awoken by Imran in the dead of the night. He asked me to come out on the terrace. There were no lights but there was a glow outside that lighted up the area in an eerie way.

There was no moon. Sensing my confusion, Imran pointed his fingers towards the sky. And yes, it was a sight I shall treasure forever. The sky lighted up by millions of stars. Suddenly, I was looking at a sky that had not an inch vacant, crammed with stars. The Milky Way glowed and it appeared as if I was looking at some spilt curd in the sky. I kept staring and kept wondering. Imran then pointed towards the edge of our hotel garden. There were thousands of blinking lights, bright and beautiful. The fireflies were everywhere.

The sky had descended on the earth with all its stars.

Time stood frozen and I knew not what time was it. Neither did I want it to move on. I sat on the garden chair and pulled Imran to me. If I could travel to that mysterious land in the sky where there were only stars and maybe Peter Pan with his tiny friends, I would take only him on this magical journey.

No words were spoken till Imran pulled me to him and brought his face close and whispered, "Time now has come to tell you a story that you must know. What you will hear today may change your perceptions towards me, us...but I must take the risk."

So, the time had finally arrived. I replied softly, "There is no risk. You tell and I will listen. And, perceptions? Let's not talk about it."

Imran kept quiet for a long time, perhaps trying best to organize himself. At last, he spoke.

"Mother has told you about my father, Indranath. We, three of us came to Netarhat from Delhi in 1977 and I was three years old. My father was appointed a teacher in the college, which we saw today while coming here. It's a brilliant institution where men are made out of boys. The teachings of life are imparted here with such finesse that makes a person equipped to withstand the uncertainties of life without qualms. I was fortunate to study here. But more of that later.

It is unusual for a boy of three years to remember so many things but I remember each and every incident that happened here. It appears only yesterday.

My mother was initially hesitant to come to this place. Coming from a prestigious University where life was dynamic and academic, she felt that my father would soon grow bored with the placid lifestyle at this place. You can well imagine how life would have been here 23 years back. But, my father had made up my mind to move away from the hullaballoo of Delhi to a more sedentary academic pursuit. As far as my mother was concerned, she had the tremendous ability to adjust according to the requirements of the time. She at once liked the serenity of this place and the people were simple and straightforward. Their simplicity and meager requirements amidst poverty and disease was something that constantly affected her in a profound manner.

Soon, we were well settled here. I started attending a pre-college although it was my mother who was my mentor. My father, in a very short span of time, not only became popular with students but also gained enormous respect among his colleagues and seniors for his brilliant academic insights and lateral knowledge. No function or seminar would be complete without Dr Indranath's incisive comments. Slowly, he became popular in the social circles too. My mother was happy for my father but remained in the background. He was only 30 years then, one of the youngest PhD scholars of the University. He would often go and attend seminars all over the country.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

At Netarhat, he gradually developed an ardour for the people who were oppressed by the vicious combination of politics, the absence of education and extreme poverty. He started meeting them regularly and while interacting with them, he found his true passion for life.

Life among that stratum of the society whose back was to the wall!

This obsession of 'undoing the wrong' consumed him fiercely and there were like-minded people who understood his fascination towards his cause. It was like going back to his student days at the University.

My mother was slightly worried because the prevailing political atmosphere was complicated. This area and adjoining Bengal had already seen bloodshed amongst the factions of the leftist movement. The Naxalite strongholds were still active, though at a lower scale. The revolutionary ideas among the youth and their reaction to any provocation were too recent for comfort. The ideology of 'haves and have-nots' was very strong and fringe groups were taking advantage of the chaotic situation.

But, Dr Indranath was composed of sterner stuff. He remained apolitical but intensely married to his thought processes. He would meet and explain his position to anyone who had powers to intervene and bring about a change. On the other hand, he interacted extensively with the local people especially the youth, who was angry and wanted quick solutions to their problems. These young boys and girls were constantly provoked by the disgruntled elements to the anthem of 'guns and bullets'. He reasoned with them to shun the path of violence and his perseverance worked to a large extent. Slowly, the Government too realised the importance of this man and the role he could play in normalising frayed nerves. He was included in many local programs that apparently were poor-oriented but the politics behind all these were still shallow.

Meanwhile, I was growing up and I was five years old when I first joined the college in the first standard. My mother had prepared me well and I was ahead of all my friends. No one was surprised since my father happened to be Dr. Indra. Very few spoke about the contribution of my mother except one man, my father himself. There was a tremendous bond of love and understanding between them without any show of outward affection. I can understand it now, since the time you have come and enriched my wretched life."

I held his fingers tightly and asked, "How was your relationship with your father?"

He paused and thought for a while. He said, "My father loved me a lot. He would take me to the jungles and show me different trees and tell me about them. He used to show me butterflies and moths. Once, he showed me a snake discarding its skin. He was very fascinated but I was scared".

"Did he tell you stories?" I asked.

He replied with a smile, "Not very often. And when he did, he spoke about the difficulties of life and how we were much better off than others. His stories spoke about struggles and retributions that I did not understand. No, he did not tell me stories that a child likes to hear."

We kept quiet for a while. I gently nudged him, "Then?"

He said looking wistfully, "I won many prizes that year. My father was very embarrassed. He felt that his son was cornering all the glories. At the end, he did not allow me to participate in the remaining competitions. I could not understand the reason. My mother consoled me and explained that if only one boy wins everything, the others get de-motivated and many boys and girls who came from very poor background needed to be encouraged. I still did not understand, but my mother's voice somehow made me understand that there were more important things in life than winning prizes."

Imran paused. Somehow, I was feeling miserable for him. Deep down, despite the arguments, I felt that this wasn't justice. Imran too was a child. Was he supposed to understand all this?

I looked at him, he didn't notice my moist eyes and continued, "It was the January of 1980 and it was bitingly cold. People were dying in our area of 'cold wave'. There was no food, no warmth and no hope. My father during these days remained perpetually out of the home, running to government offices to get something done. But, actions were elusive. My mother remained busy with my impending final examinations.