DURJOY DATTA PENGUIN BOOKS -...
Transcript of DURJOY DATTA PENGUIN BOOKS -...
-
DURJOYDATTA
theboywithabrokenheart
PENGUINBOOKS
Contents
20July2002
21July2002
23July2002
27July2002
29July2002
4August2002
7August2002
9August2002
11August2002
-
14August2002
17August2002
18August2002
23August2002
25August2002
29August2002
1September2002
4September2002
6September2002
16September2002
19September2002
22September2002
23September2002
24September2002
26September2002
27September2002
28September2002
29September2002
2October2002
7October2002
8October2002
9October2002
-
10October2002
11October2002
15October2002
17October2002
18October2002
19October2002
25October2002
26October2002
30October2002
1November2002
14November2002
15November2002
16November2002
25November2002
27November2002
29November2002
10December2002
12December2002
17December2002
18December2002
19December2002
25December2002
-
31December2002
2January2003
5January2003
6January2003
7January2003
10January2003
17January2003
20January2003
21January2003
22January2003
24January2003
27January2003
30January2003
1February2003
2February2003
7February2003
11February2003
17February2003
20February2003
21February2003
23February2003
24February2003
-
25February2003
27February2003
2March2003
4March2003
5March2003
6March2003
9March2003
10March2003
12March2003
13March2003
14March2003
15March2003
16March2003
19March2003
20March2003
21March2003
23March2003
24March2003
25April2003
30April2003
FollowPenguin
Copyright
-
PENGUINMETROREADS
THEBOYWITHABROKENHEART
DurjoyDattawasborninNewDelhi,andcompletedadegreeinengineeringandbusinessmanagementbeforeembarkingonawritingcareer.Hisfirstbook—OfCourseILoveYou
…—waspublishedwhenhewastwenty-oneyearsoldandwasaninstantbestseller.Hissuccessivenovels—NowThatYou’reRich…;SheBrokeUp,IDidn’t!…;OhYes,I’mSingle!…;YouWereMyCrush…;IfIt’sNotForever…;TilltheLastBreath…;SomeoneLikeYou;HoldMyHand;WhenOnlyLoveRemains;World’sBestBoyfriend;OurImpossibleLove;TheGirlofMyDreams;andTheBoyWhoLoved—havealsofoundprominenceonvariousbestsellerlists,makinghimoneofthehighest-sellingauthorsinIndia.
Durjoyalsohastohiscreditninetelevisionshowsandhaswrittenoverathousandepisodesfortelevision.
DurjoylivesinMumbai.Formoreupdates,youcanfollowhimonFacebook
(www.facebook.com/durjoydatta1)orTwitter(@durjoydatta)ormailhimat
20July2002
WhatshouldIstartwith?‘Hi’or‘DearDiary’?‘Hi’istoocasual,and‘dear’soundsalittlearchaic.MaybeifIgodeeperintothequestion,Iwillfindmyanswer.Who’sitI’mwritingfor?Foranoldermewhowouldn’tevenhavethetimetoreadthis?Forasisterwhowouldpullmylegendlesslyifshefindsoutaboutthis?ForthebestfriendIdon’thave?OrfortheboyfriendthatIhavevowednevertomake?
OK,letmeforgetaboutfindingareason,andgetstraightintoit.
TomorrowanewchapterstartsinmylifeandIintendtomakeitcount.Tomorrow’sthedayeverythingwillchange;it’slikeoneofthosemomentsinmovieswherethegirliswalkingonthestreetandshe’sconfusedandlost,her
http://www.facebook.com/durjoydatta1https://twitter.com/durjoydattamailto:[email protected]
-
eyestearyandherstepsunsteady,butthenslowlyasenseofconfidenceseepsthroughher,slowlyfillingherup,submergingherinhopeandpossiblejoy,andshe’ssmiling,andthenshe’srunning,sprintingawayfromherpast,leavingbehindallthatshehasbeenthrough,chargingatherfuture,laughinglikecrazy.Eighteenyearsisalongtimetospendwitheyeslookingatthegroundlikeagoodgirl,stepsslow,wordssoftandbarelyaudible,andaconstant,politesmile.
Nowit’sallgoingtochange.Ithasto.Doesn’tit?
Isitrudenottointroducemyself?
Heregoes.
Hi!I’mAdvaitaVaid,daughterofOmPrakashVaidandNilimaVaid,theyoungersisterofDivyaVaid.IamfromDehradunandIlivewithMumma,Papa,Di,Dadaji(Grandpa),Buaji(Papa’ssister),Fufaji(Buaji’shusband),ManishChachu(father’syoungerbrother)andmytwocousins,KaranBhaiyaandAnshumanBhaiya,inahouseasoldastime,inaroomwhichIsharewiththreeothers,andthere’snotonepartofthissentencethatIamnotdyingtochange.
21July2002
‘Youcandoanythingyouwantonceyou’reincollege,’MummahadalwayssaidtomewhileIwasinschool.
Anything.
Itookheruponthisandaskedherifherwordsstillstand,andifIcouldseriouslydoanythingnowthatitwasmyfirstdayofcollege.ShestaredatmeandIthinkshewaswonderingifIwouldputherthroughthesamesleeplessnightsandthesamehumiliationthatDivyaDihadputherthroughbeforedroppingoutofcollegeinhersecondyear.
‘Don’tstealfromanyone,’shesaid.
Thatwasunfair.ThelasttimeeitherDivyaDiorI—famedshopliftersof
-
pens,chocolatesandnewspapers,andlater,evenfilchinghardcash—hadbeencaughtstealingwasthreeyearsagowhenwestolethreehundredrupeesfromtheshagunenvelopesatoursecondcousin’swedding.Wewerethenbannedfromattendingtheotherfunctions,butIhaveheardthepaneerwasn’tanythingtowritehomeaboutandtheicecreamhadfinishedanhourbeforethepheras.Inmydefence,I’mamuchbetterthiefthanDi(thedebaclewasallherfault),althoughshecanjump,run,kickandpunchherwaybetterthanme.ThatwasthelasttimeDiandIeverstoleatawedding.Mummawouldnotletusoutofhersight.ButneitherMummanorPapahaseverscoldedusforfindingthingswithusthatwedidn’town.‘Everyonesteals,’saysPapa,whohasalwaysbeenatthereceivingendofthievery.Sothetwoofusarejusttryingtobalancethescaleslittlebylittle.
MummawasarguingwithanauntyfromtheneighbourhoodwhenIgotbackhomefrommylargelydisappointingfirstdayincollegewhichchieflycomprisedoffillinguponeformafteranother,beingpolitetoseniors,andwatchingboysandgirlstryingtofallinloveatfirstsight.
‘Thestitcheshavecomeapart,’theauntygrousedloudly.
‘ItwasperfectwhenIgaveittoyou.Youmusthavegainedweight,bhabhiji,’saidMumma.‘Butfine,Iwillstitchitagain,it’llcostfortyrupees.’
Beforetheauntycouldprotest,Mummasaid,withastrategictouchontheaunty’sarmsandakindlookinhereyes,‘You’remyfriend,whatkindofpersonwouldIbeifIdon’tgiveyouaspecialrate.’
Thisdoesn’talwayswork.DitellsmethatshehasseenMummabeingspaton,pushedaround,hersewingmachinesmashed,andononeoccasionslappedaroundbyafew
auntiesontheallegation—whichisprobablytrue—thatshestealscloth.Andevenifshedidn’tsteal,there’snodenyingthatit’sMumma’scunningandtenacitythathavepaidforDi’sandmyschooling.
Mummahastwopart-timetailors,IqbalandAltaf,workingforher.Mummaoftensayssheowesherentirebusinesstothesetwomen,buttheyareneverallowedinsideourhouseonDadaji’sandBuaji’sinstructions.Theydrinkoutofearthentumblerswhichwehavetobreakaftertheiruse.
‘AtleastAltafChachucancomeinside,healwaysgetsNatkhatandKismis
-
toffeesforme!’IoftenprotestedwhenIwaslittle.IsawthemsooftenthatIgrewupbelievingthatAltafwasmycousinchachu.Ididn’tcaremuchaboutIqbalwhonevercamebearingtoffees.
‘Yourbuajianddadajidon’tlikethembecausetheyareMuslims,’Mummaoftenusedtosay
‘BuajiandDadajilikenoone!Notevenus!’Iwouldreply.
ItwaslaterthatIrealizedthattheirhatredtowardsAltafandIqbalstemmedfromnotonlythefactthattheywereMuslims,butalsothattheybelongedtolower-casteHindufamilieswhichhadconvertedtoIslamtwogenerationsago,exhaustedbytheindignitytheyhadsufferedatthehandsofupper-casteHindus.
AsforDadaji’shatredtowardsus,ithadtodowiththefactthatPapa,theeldestsoninthefamily,hadchosentomarryMumma,alower-castewoman.PapahadbetrayedDadaji,aproud,jingoistBrahminwhohadspenthisyouthdefendingtheexaltedpositionofBrahmins,theirpurebloodandtheneedforuntouchabilityinMohyalmeetingsacrossthestate.Mummaandushadputhiminquiteanawkwardposition.
Ourrelatives,whichisanotherwordforbloodsuckingmonsters,haveneverfailedtopointthatouttoDivyaDiandmeevenwhenweweretooyoungtounderstandanyofthis.
‘Lookatyousisters,yougetyourcomplexionfromyourfather,’theyusedtosay.‘Youareluckytonotgetanythingfromyourma.Lookatyourfather,whitelikemilk,andyourmother…chiichii.’
‘ButPapaisalangda!Hecan’tevenwalk!’DivyaDiandIwouldchime.
Papa,thesonofatall,authoritativeandrespectedhomeopath,DrVaid,wasacripple.
Sometimeshewoulduseastick,butmosttimesPapawouldjusthobblearoundwithabrightsmileonhisface,hopingitwoulddeflecttheattentionfromhiscrookedleg.Asifheowedittotheworldtobecheerfulatleast.
Whenwesaidthis,therelativeswouldbeshocked,andsoonaccusationswouldflyleftandright,andfingerswouldbepointedatMummaforhavingtaughtustodisrespectPapabycallinghimlangda.
-
‘Whereelsewouldtheylearnsuchathingfrom!Nomatterwherethesepeoplegetmarried,theywillalwaysbeguttural.It’suselesstoteachthemcivility.’Theywouldgaspandstartchanting,Buajibeingtheloudestofthemall,‘Ram,Ram,Ram!’
Papawouldlatergiveuschocolate.ItwashewhohadtaughtustocallhimlangdaifanyoneberatedMumma;hewouldalsosayitwasn’tMummawhowasluckybuthim.
23July2002
Whatisitaboutsiblingsthatthere’sneveradaytheydon’twanttostrangleeachother?Inthepastfewmonthstherehasrarelybeenatimethatthetransistorinourroomhasnotbeenswitchedon.Weevensleepwiththatdamnedthingon,lestshemisseshearingthe
‘DolaRe’songfromDevdasforthebillionthtime.Thoughthere’slittledoubtthatShahRukhKhanisalivinggod,therehastocomeatimewhenyouhaveheardthesongsomanytimesthatyouwouldratherhearyournailsscratchagainsttheblackboard.ButDivyaDihasonlymadeitworsebyborrowingaministereowhichplaysthesongrepeatedlyfromitstinnyanddefectivespeakers.
‘Wheredidyougetthisfrom?’Iasked.
‘Afriend,’saidDivyaDi,andgavenofurtherexplanations.Wehavelearntovertimethatit’suselesstoaskherforanyexplanationbecauseshe’smoreadeptatliesthanShahRukhisatbreakingheartsanddyinginhisfilms.
‘Howwascollege?’Mummaasked,pouringhotkadhiintomybowl.
‘Youdidn’tmakepakoras?What’skadhiwithoutpakoras?’Igrumbled.
‘Yousisteristryingtoloseweight,’sheanswered.
‘Ihavetobefifty-fivekgbeforetheendofthismonth,’saidDivyaDi,whoalreadylooksmalnourished—gorgeousbutmalnourished.TherearetimesMummaandIcan’tkeepoureyesoffherwhenshecombsherlong,black
-
hair,pullsthemintoatightpony,andwearsthesnugsalwarkameezesMummastitchesforher.Growingup,herhighjawline,thesmooth,glisteningskin,andhersharp,piercingeyes,alwaysseemedlikeanodditywhenshedroveacyclearoundtheneighbourhood.Sheshouldhavebeenatthebackofanair-conditionedHondaCity.Everyfewdays,Mummaburnslittleredchillies,orslapsthegroundwithaslippertosaveherfromtheevileye.WhenIwasyounger,allIwantedwastolooklikemybigsisterbutIamshortbyDivyaDi’senviableandbafflingfive-foot-tenbyanembarrassingeightinches.Sheistallerthantheseventeen-year-oldtwinsKaranandAnshumanBhaiya,bothofwhomstillhopetogrowtallerthanhertosavetheirmasculinepride.TheywouldbecrushedifDadaji’stoweringheightisn’tpassedontothem,andonlytoDi.DivyaDicontinued,‘ThereareauditionsforaPunjabimusicvideonextmonth.There’salotofmoneyinit.’
‘Manygirlsareauditioning,’saidMumma,scrapingtheleftoverkadhiontoherplate.
‘Girlsareevenreadytowearshortsforit.Keepyourhopeslow,beta.’
‘Ma,it’snotthatkindofavideo.Wehavebeeninstructedtowearonlysalwarkameez,’
saidDivyaDi.
ThesedaysDivyaDihasbeenpractisingthestepsto‘DolaRe’allafternoonintheroom,whichmeantMummaandIhadtodividehercleaningresponsibilitiesamongstourselves.
‘Shedanceslikeadream,doesn’tshe?’Mummasaidaswewatchedherinraptattention.Sheswirledandbentandswayedlikeshewaspossessed,andwhenshecrashedheartbrokentothefloorasthesongended,shehadputtoshameAishwaryaRaiandMadhuriDixitandanyoneelsewho’dtrieddancingtothatsong.
‘Goddess,’IwhisperedtoMumma,becauseitwastrue.AndthentoldDivyaDi,
‘Enoughofdancing.NowmakeMummaandmesometea.Wehavebeenworkingsohard.’
‘Howwasit?’sheasked,pantingandsweatingandbeautiful.
-
‘OK-ish,itcouldhavebeenmuchbetter,’Iteasedher.
‘Nonsense,itwasbeautiful!’saidMumma,andgotuptomakeherpatentoverboiled,too-sweet-for-anyonetea.
ExceptforPapa,noneofuscanmakegoodtea.BuajineverfailstoremindusaboutthiseveryeveningwhenDadajiandshearebackfromtheclinicandwemakethemtea.Wemakeitbadpurposefullytoexactourlittlerevenge—deathbyathousandcupsofbadtea.
DadajiwouldcomplainaboutittoBuaji,andnotus,asifoursightandourwordswouldmakehimimpure.Notoncehashecalledusbyname,andhaschosentocallus‘voladkiyan’.
‘DoyouthinkBuajiwillletmedothevideoifI’mselected?’askedDivyaDilateratnight.
Lastyear,shewaschosenfromhundredsofgirlstostarinamusicvideowhichshefirmlybelievedwouldbeherticketoutofthistown,towardsabetterlifeforallofus.Twodaysbeforetheshoot,BuajihadfoundoutthatDivyaDihadliedandshewouldhavetowearashortskirtforthevideo,andthusbeforeverlabelledaragingwhore.Despitethefivethousandrupeesthatshewasbeingpaid,BuajihadgrabbedDivyaDibyherhairandlockedherinthestoreroomforthreedays.
‘BUAJI!Takethemoney!Letmedothevideo!IPROMISEIWON’TWEAR
SHORTS,’DivyaDihadscreamedtillshelosthervoice.
ButBuajihadjustglaredatMummaandPapa,andsaid,‘That’swhatyourdaughter’sizzatisworth?Fivethousandrupees?Takethatfrommeandslapyourdaughter!Hadyouslappedherearliershewouldn’thave—’
‘Di,wedon’thavetobringthatupagain,’Papahadsaid.
‘Peopleneverforget.YouthinktheywilleverstoptalkingabouthowyourChamarnidaughteropenedherlegsforthatboyand—’Buaji’svoicetrailedoffasifshecouldn’tbringherselftosayanythingmore.
IthinkBuaji’sproblemwasonlypartlywithwhatDivyaDiwouldhavetowearorwhatshehaddoneinthepasttobesmirchthehonourofourfamily.
-
Whatshefearedmostwasthatwewouldhaveafuture,wewouldhavemoneyandhope,andthatwasunacceptabletoher.
IfIweretoratehowmuchweareloathedbymembersoftheVaidhousehold,Buajiwouldberightatthetop,followedcloselybyDadajiandthenbyFufajiandhissons,KaranBhaiyaandAnshumanBhaiya,whohavebeentaughtandconditionedtobeeffectiveintheirhatred;theyarefollowedbythelastofthelot,ManishChachu,who’stooself-absorbedtocare.
IfPapa’selderbrother,AnilTauji,werealive,thingsmighthavebeendifferent,butwhycryoverspiltmilk?Wehadlearntearlyinlifethatifyou’reamixed-castefamilywithacrippledfather,andtwogirlswithstainedreputations,youwouldonlyhaveeachotherforsupportandlove.
I’velearntoveraperiodoftimethatBuajireservesasecretstashofhatredandnastinessforDivyaDi,whohadturnedouttobethecompleteoppositeoftheabominationofachildthatBuajihadpredictedwouldcomeoutoftheunholy,lustymarriagebetweenPapaandMumma.DivyaDiwasabeautifulchild,andthatgratedonBuaji.ShewasthepolaroppositeofBuajiwho’scracked,burntandugly,apaintolookat.MaybelookingatDivyaDiremindedherofhowlizard-likeandhorribleshelooked.MummahasstrictlyaskedusnottocommentonBuaji’slooks,hasevenscoldedandslappedusonnumerousoccasions,butweonlydothatbecauseshe’sexactlylikethatontheinside.Crackedlikebarrenearth.Shrivelledup.Flaky.Disgusting.
I’veheardthatBuajihad‘accidentally’droppedDivyaDitwicewhenshewasjustabouttwentydaysoldinthehopethattheprettychildthathadcomeoutofthewombofmydark,untouchablemotherwouldbreakherskullanddie.
27July2002
Thisfamilyofourshasoneandonlyonedream—tohaveahouseofourown,torunawayfromwherewelivenow—andeverythingconvergestowardsthatdream.EverysuitandsalwarMummasells,everyrailwayandbusticketPapabooksasanagent,everydanceclassDivyaDiteaches,it’swiththehopethatonedaywewillbeabletomoveoutofouroneroominDadaji’sancestralhouseandhaveatleastaone-bedroomhouse.Wouldn’tthatbeanupgrade
-
fromthesingleroomwehavebeenlivingin?
Tillnowthere’sbeenscantprogressonthatdream,buthopeiswhattakesusfromonedaytoanother.OnsomeSundaysallfourofustakeabustotheoutskirts,towardsHaridwar,toinspectthebuildingsunderconstruction,havefutileconversationswithpropertydealerswherewetalkaboutsquarefeetandcarpetareaandmonthlyinstalments,andthenwalkaroundapartmentswhereotherpeoplelived,andimaginewhatwoulditbeliketoliveinoneofthem.
‘Atleastit’snotafool’sdream,’Mummasaid,holdinguptoday’spaper.TheDalitMahaSabhahadorganizedaDalitwomen’srallyinAndhraPradeshaskingforlandredistributionsothattheywouldalsohavelandoftheirown
‘Nothingisgoingtohappen,’saidMummabeforeusingthenewspapertopackmylunch.
DespitehersurnamenowbeingVaid,Mummafeelsakinshiptowardsalllowercastes.
DespiteourhatredforallthingsBrahminical,DiandIhaverevelledintheprivilegeofoursurnames.NeitherDinorIweremadetofeelinferiorinschoolbecauseeveryoneknewusastheVaidsisters,granddaughtersofarespected,oldMohyalBrahmin.Butwewerenevermadetoforgetitoncewewerehome.Wewereconstantlyremindedthatwewereimpostors,withuncleanblood,andluckytobelivinginaBrahminhousehold.Thedefinitionof‘lucky’beingdubiousatbest.Allthreeofuswouldratherliveinacaste-less,religion-lesshouseholdthanbelucky.
Thereshouldbearesearchonthelong-standingside-effectsofyourbrothersconstantlycallingyouChuriorChamar,andaskingyoutocleantheseptictankandthenlaugh.
‘That’swhatyourdestinyis,tocleanourshit,rollaroundatourfeet,Chamarni!’theywouldsay.
‘Ourdestinyisalsotocarryyourdeadbodies.Isn’tthatexciting?Iamwonderingwhatwewoulddowithyourdead,defencelessbodies,’DivyaDiwouldsay.
‘Leaveittothedogs?Nah,tooeasy,’Iwouldanswer.‘Paradethemnaked?Oh.Wait.
-
Leavethemwiththepigs.Playfootballwithyourbeheadedheads?Hockeywithyourballs?Endlesspossibilities.Wouldn’tthatbewonderful?’
Theywouldrunaway,crying.
Forthreehoursafteranotherunsatisfactorydayincollege,atacybercafénearmyoldschool,ItypedoutCVsfordiplomaholdersandcollegegraduateswhoneededthemforjobsinDelhi,Mumbai,KolkataandBengaluru.Citieswithbiggerroads,shorterclothes,tallerbuildingsandlongernights.TheeagernessintheireyesasIhandedovertheprintedCVsmademewanttotypeoneoutformyselfaswell.
‘Wheredidyoulearntoformatlikethat?’askedaboywhenItooksomenovelkeyboardshortcuts.‘School.Iwasthecomputerlabmonitor,’Ianswered,andaddedgruffly,‘Youcangoifyou’redone.’
DivyaDiwouldhavebeenproud.She’salwaysbeenwaryofseeingboysaroundme.
‘OfcourseIworryaboutyoubeingaroundboys.You’resobeautifulandstupid!’DivyaDihasalwaystoldme.
‘I’mnot,youare.I’mtheuglyducklingandyou’relike…theswan,’Iwouldoftensay.
‘Iwillslapyouifyousaythatoncemore.EverymodelinDelhilookslikeme,andtherearemillions.Butyou,lookatyoureyes,asiftheywerepluckedoutofastuffedtoy,allblackanddeepandsparkly,andyourcutelittlefacethatfeelslikethemorningitself.
Andsee,see,justlookatyourlips,sobubblegummy.It’slikeyou’restillachild.Lookathowyougopinkinyourcheekswhensomeonetellsyouthat.’
‘I’msoshortandyou’relike—’
‘Andyouhobblearoundlikealittleduck,quack,quack.It’ssoadorable.Theyshouldputyouinanassemblylineandmakethousandsofyou.Stresslevelswillplummet,Iamtellingyou.Loveatfirstsighteverywhere.Likethis.’Shewouldsnapherfingers.
‘Please,Di—’
-
‘Mummakasam,Iwouldbeyouinaheartbeat,’DivyaDiwouldsay.Mummakasamwassacred.Itwasn’tasifwebelievedthatthecosmoswouldconspiretorobMummaofherlifeifherstupidkidslied,butitwasapactbetweenus.TonotlieunderMumma’soath.Andeverytimeshewouldsaythat,Iwouldimmediatelyfeelbeautiful.
Butit’snotasifIhavegivenhermanychancestoworryaboutboysbeingaroundme.
BothsheandIhavebeenquiteunluckywithmakingfriendswitheithergender.Wewerealwaysthepoorestinclass,andevenforlittlechildren,it’shardtokeepupwithfriendshipswhenyoudon’thaveasinglerupeetospare.
EspeciallywhentheparentsofotherchildrentellthemnottomixwiththeVaidgirls.
Dirtyuniforms,emptylunchboxes,nopresents,birthdayparties,andreturngifts,andbarelypassingmarks—nothingwasinourfavour.Itwasworsebecausedespiteourlimitedintelligence,wewereinaschoolbeyondourmeans.
Itkeptgettingtougheraswegrewolder.DiandIwereknowntostealthings,AndMummawasdismissedastheslimyvamp,andPapathewickedcripple.
OurfatewasfinallysealedwhenDiwasbrandedabadgirlafterheraffairwithVibhorGupta.Fromthenonwewerebadinfluences.
Comingbacktothetyping.Forthreehoursofeasywork,120rupeesisalot.IfIgetthreehoursoftypingworkeveryday,Iwouldbeearning3600rupeesamonth,andthatwouldchangealotofthingsaroundthehouse.ButitwouldalsorequireeveryyoungpersoninDehraduntowakeuptoadreamofwantingtoleavethissleepytown.
Buttodaywasagooddayoverall.DivyaDigotpaidforthemonthshehadspentteachingafamilydanceto‘DolaRe’;sotheVaidkidswererichtoday!Weallpooledinandboughtasecond-handcooleraftertakingpermissionfromBuaji.Someluxurythat.
-
29July2002
Fufajihasfallenill.Unfortunately,Dadajisaysit’snothingmorethanastomachinfection,anditwillpass.Wewantedittobemuchworse.
DivyaDioptedforcancer.‘Youcan’tpickcancer,’IarguedaboutDivyaDi’schoice.‘Itwillbealong,expensivepathtodeath.AndyouknowhowDadajiis,thisisabouthisbeloveddamad,andwhatwouldn’thedoforhim.’
WediscussedothermorbidwaysFufajicoulddieswiftlyandeconomicallytillMummaaskedustostop.
‘Asifyoudon’twantthesame,’saidDivyaDi.
‘Idon’t,’saidMumma,checkingdressmaterialsforholesanddefects.Thensheaddedsoftly,‘Andcanyoupleasenotsaysuchthingssoloudly?’
Ifyouthinkofit—DivyaDiandIhavetalkedaboutthisatlength—Fufajidyingahorribleornon-horribledeathwouldbeofnousetous.ButBuaji’sdeathwouldthrowtheentirepowerequationoftheVaidhouseintoatizzy.Dadajirunsthishouselikeafeudallord,brandishinghiswalkingsticklikeaswordatdissidents.Despitehisadvancedage,he’sbuiltlikeanox,atsix-foot-threetoweringoverallofus,andhisbonyarmsstillretainedthepowerandswiftnessfromhisyouth.It’ssaidwhenhewasyounger,hecouldhavecrushedaskullwithhisbarehands.Andifrumoursaretobebelieved,afewmenhavelostapartoftheirhearingafteragoodslapfromDadaji.
ButmostofhisdirtyworkiscarriedoutbyBuaji,whotookoverashisdeputy/crony/compounderattheclinicafterAnilTaujipassedaway.Thatwasanentirelyunnecessarydeath.IhavebeentoldthatAnilTaujilovedPapaandallofus.Hewasakind,brilliantmanwhowassupposedtotakeoverworkfromDadajiwhentherighttimecame.
‘HewasthelightofDadaji’seyes,andIwasthescourge,’Papaoftensaid.‘Hewastallandreallyhandsome,whileIremindedyourdadajiofhisfailure.Hecouldn’tkeepmearoundhim.Iwasembarrassing.’
ThefailurePapawastalkingaboutwasthedentintheprideDadajitookinhishomeopathywhenPapawasstruckdownwithpolio.Dadajihadn’tgotanyofhischildrenvaccinated,andadvocatedagainstit,forhebelievedthathomeopathymedicineshadmadevaccinessuperfluous.WhileAnilTauji,
-
BuajiandManishChachugrewuptobehealthyadults,Papawascrippled—aconstant,livingreminderofDadaji’sfailure,whichwas
thereforeveryonetowitness.Naturally,Papahadgottenusvaccinated,butthenhehadgottenthrashedbyDadajiinfrontoftheentireneighbourhood.Thatwasthelastnailintheirrelationship.ItwasthedaythatMummaandPapahaddecidedtheywouldn’tspendtheirlivesinthishouse,andstartedtoworktowardsit.ItwasAnilTaujiwhohadhelpedPaparealizethat.
‘Wehadfinallybrokenfreeofthistoxicjointfamily.Wehadourownhouse,justthefourofus.Itwasagoodtime,’Papahadtoldme.
‘Werewehappy?’
‘Veryhappy,Advaita.Youshouldhaveseenyourdidiandmumma!Ah,suchsmiles!’
Papahadsaidtearfully.‘YourAnilTaujihadmanagedeverything.Hepaidusforeverythingwithouttellingyourdadajiordadiji.Therent,thedeposit,thefurniture,everything.YourTaujiknewthatstayinginthathousewithyourdadajiwasn’tgoodforyouandyoursister.ButyourdadajiknewtherewasnowayIcouldhavethatkindofmoney.’
‘DidDadajiaskyouwhereyougotthemoneyfrom?’
‘HeassumedthatIhadbeenfilchingfromthehouseforyears,havingfallentoyourmother’sinsatiablegreed.Therewasalotoftalkaroundthetown.PeoplewonderedwhyIhadshiftedawayfromthefamily.MostofthempiledtheblameonyourMumma.ButyourTaujimadeDadajinottakeanystepsagainstus.’
‘ButthenTaujifellsick?’
‘Hewasdiagnosedwithaterminalillnessamonthafterwehadmovedoutofthehouse.
ThenBuajicamebackfromDelhi.’
IamtoldthatBuajihaddescendedlikeahawkonthehousewhenAnilTaujiwastoldhewon’tsurvivehislong-standingillness.Shethenlaidclaimtothehouse,theclinic,anythingofvalue,andpoisonedDadaji’searsagainstMummaandPapa,whomshealreadyloathed.Evenafterallthoseyears,she
-
hadn’tforgiventhem.Hergrudgehadbecomesharper,moreinsidious.Shesquattedinthehouselikeacunningscavenger.YourFufajicamewithher,luggingafewsuitcasestoomany,andneverleft.’
‘Butwhydidwemoveback?Wecouldhavestayedaway.’
Papahadsighed.‘Itwasn’tbychoice.WeweremadetoafteryourTaujipassedaway,beta.’
‘Howcouldtheydothat!’Ihadaskedangrily.
Papahadheldmyhand,thewayyouwouldwhiletellingsomeoneahorriblestory.
‘WhenAnilTaujipassedaway,Dadajiturnedhisgriefintowrath.Weborethebruntofit.
Dadajiheldalotmorepowerthanhedoestodayinourcommunity.Peoplelistenedto
him.EveryoneinDehradunknewsomeonewhohadbeentreatedbyDadaji.Yourdadajineverhadthemoney,buthewaslistenedto,respected,andfeared.’
‘Dadajithreatenedyou?’
‘Yourdadajigotusthrownoutofthehousewehadrented,strippedusofourbelongings,accusedusoftheft,andmadesurewedidn’tfindaplacetostay.Hehadbeenreadytoseeusstarvetodeath.Threedayswewaitedoutsidethegatetillfinallyyourdadijistrodeintothecourtyardandthreatenedtolightherselfifyourdadajididn’tletusinside.’
IwasfouratthetimebutIhavefaintmemoriesofthelittlerowhousewehadshiftedto.ButitcouldalsobethatIamconstructingthesememoriesfromwhatIhaveheard.ButDivyaDiremembersclearlythehouse,thelittlegarden,theoldneemtree,andthetulsiplantedbyMumma.
PapatoldmeDadijikeptDadajifromharassinguswhenwefirstmovedin.Butthingschangedswiftlywhenshepassedaway.AfterDadijidied,Buajiwantedtothrowusout,butshesoonsherealizedthathavingthreegirlsaroundinthehousemeantnothavingtopayforamaid.Wearealsotreatedassuch.
-
Weweren’tallowedtousethebathroom—westillaren’t—soPapahadtomakeoneoutsidebythegarden.Westillusethat.There’snorunningwaterorpowerthere.Wealsohaveaseparatekitchen.It’sinashedontheroof.ThisisbecauseBuajidoesn’twantherfoodtobemixedwithMumma’s,thoughfarcically,Mumma’stheonewhocooksforeveryone.
‘Shecan’tseeushappy,’Mummahadoncesaidafteraparticularlyroughday.Whiletheseptictanksofallthehousesweregettingcleanedbythejamadarssentbythemunicipalcorporation,Buajihadjokedinfrontoftheentirecolony,‘Wedon’tneedone,wehaveajamadarnirightinourhome.’
Mummahadprotestedstronglyandwhentheshoutingmatchbetweenthetwohadreachedafeverishpitch,Dadajihadintervened.Hechasedthejamadarsoutofthehouse,andaskedMummatocleanit.
‘TUNAHIKAREGITOKAUNKAREGA!(Whowilldoitifnotyou?)’Dadajihadshouted.
Mummahadspentsixstraighthourscarryingbucketsoffaecesfromourhousetanktothemunicipaltruck.Thewholelanewatchedwithdupattasandhandkerchiefscoveringtheirnoses,whilelittlechildrenvomited,notbeingabletobearthestench.Mummahadfaintedtwice,andbothtimesDadajihadswunghisstickatPapa’sfoottostophimfromgoingtoMumma’shelp.Suchstupid,stupidlove.
Andwhenshewasdoneandshiveringinherbedwithhighfever,Dadajihadsaid,
‘WHYDIDN’TYOUDIE!MYSONWOULDHAVEBEENALIVEHADYOU
PEOPLENOTSTOLENFROMUS.WECOULDHAVEGIVENHIMBETTER
TREATMENT!YOUSTOLEFROMMYDYINGSON!THISISWHATYOU
DESERVE!!’
Thatwasgrosslyuntrue,butitdidn’tmatter.NotonlydidBuajiandDadajibelieveit,sodideveryoneelsewhoknewus.That’swhynoonereallyraisesaneyebrowwhentheytreatusbadlyinthishouse.
-
It’seasiertosaythisinhindsight,butMummaandPapathinktheyshouldhaverodeitoutwhenDadajihadnotlettheminsidethehouse.TheythinktheyshouldhavepulledDivyaDioutofschoolforacoupleofyearsandscrapedthrough.Overtheyears,themoreDadaji’sreputationhadgrownasafiercelyprotectivefatherofanunfortunatedaughter,andasalegendarydoctorforthehave-nots,andalsoasthetragicmanwhoseeldestsonhaddiedinhisarms,peoplesawPapaintheworstoflights.Overtheyears,hehasbeencalled‘ungrateful’,a‘thief’,an‘abomination’,andifithadbeenanyoneelse,heorshewouldhavecrumbled.
ThecoolerhasbeenshiftedtoBuaji’sroomforthedaytomakeFufajifeelbetter.
It’ssohotwithoutit.HowquicklydidIgetusedtothat?I’mtellingyou,theVaidsarebornforluxury.
4August2002
KaranBhaiyaandAnshumanBhaiya,theseventeen-year-oldtwinsandtheapplesofDadaji’seyes,areconditionedtohateus,thinkofusasinferior,belittleusandbreakourspirits—andtheyreallyhavebeentaughtwell.ButunlikeMummaandme,DivyaDistillseessomegoodinthem,andbelievestheywillturnaroundsomeday,falltotheirkneesandapologize.Shehasgrownupwiththem.Whentheyweretwelveandhadstartedtotrulyowntheirroleofvileandcraftybastardswhorevelledinourmisery,DivyaDiusedtodefendthemandtrytopaintapictureoftheirpastniceness.
‘Theyneverletmecarrymybagswhentheywereyounger.’‘DespiteBuajitellingthemnotto,theywouldsharetheirpaneerwithme.Evenyou,butyoudon’tremember.’‘Theyusedtopolishyourshoes,remember?’
Evennow,DivyaDi’sonlydisappointedinthem,notangryliketherestofus.Sotoday,DivyaDihadtakentoapleadingtonewiththem,hopingtheywouldseesense.Theydidn’t.DespiteDi’sandmyferventprotests,KaranBhaiyaandAnshumanBhaiyahaddecidedtofixthingsthemselves.AndthatafterDivyaDihadalreadyfixeditthebestshecould;theythoughtitwastheirbrotherlydutytodoso,becausefromthemomentDivyaDiandIhadturnedthirteen,thehonouroftheVaidsrestedpurelyonhowwebehavedand
-
conductedoutsidethehouse.
Theyhadmissedapreviousopportunitytoprovethemselvestobeworthymen,menwhocouldbravelypickupcudgelsandrodsandhockeysticks,anddefendthewomenoftheirfamilyiftheneedarose.Threeyearsago,theycouldn’tdoanythingwhenitwasrumouredthatDivyaDihadlosthervirginitytoaboynamedVibhorGupta.Whenshewasgrilledandslappedaboutathomeonwhethertherumoursweretrue,shehadbeenmum.Sheborethebeatingsforamonthwithoutafrown;evenKaranBhaiyaandAnshumanBhaiya,yearsyoungerthanher,hadhitherwithauthority.Barelyfourteenthen,theyhadplannedfordaystoaccosttheguyandbeathimup,onlytorealizethatsomeoneelsehadalreadydoneitforthem.VibhorGuptahadbeenbeatenwithinaninchofhislife,hishouseransacked,andhisscooterburnt.Hiscollegeclassroomhadbeensetonfire,andhisadmission(andDi’s)hadbeencancelled.ThepersonwhohaddoneitwasMeghnadSharma,aninfluentialboyofpoliticallyconnectedpowerfulparentsfromSaharanpurwhohadbeenhopelesslyinlovewithDivyaDisinceherschooldays.Hehadquiteareputationforgettingintofightsandscufflesonadailybasis;hehadevenpaidacoupleofvisitstothepolicestation,buthisuncleswereinchargethere.
ButwhenIfirstsawhim,hedidn’tcomeacrossasabadguy.Ithadstartedharmlesslyenough.
Hewouldwaitoutsideourschoolpatientlyforittoendandthenwatchustillthetimeweboardedthebus.Afewmonthslaterhestarteddrivingalongsidethebus,stealingshyglancesatus,smilingsoftly.DivyaDiandIstoppedsittingbythewindowtosaveourselvesfromtheembarrassment.Othergirlscalledhisstalkingcute,andwantedtoswitchplaceswithher.
OnceDivyaDistartedgoingtocollege,hewastheretoo,leaningonhiscarwithhisfriends,watchingDieveryday.Whenhefinallymusteredupthecourage,DivyaDiturnedhimdown.(Atthattime,shewasinlovewithacollegemate,butnooneknewthisexceptme.Ihadstumbledacrossthepowerfulloveletterstheyhadwrittentoeachother.)TherejectionchangedsomethinginMeghnad,whostartedcampingoutinfrontofourhouse,hiseyescold,hisbodystiff.WarningsbyMummaandPapahelpedonlyforabriefwhile,asitturnedoutthatDadajiknewMeghnad’sfather.Sohistransgressionswerelabelledas
‘thingsboysdo’.DivyaDistartedtotakelongerroutestocollegetoavoid
-
him,andwhenhecaughtontothat,shestoppedgoingtocollegealtogether.ThemoreDipulledawayfromhimthemoreinvasiveandaggressivehegot.
Hewouldthenbefoundnearourhouseatalltimesoftheday,waitingforDitostepout,andtrytotalktoher.Sometimeshewouldgrabherdupattaorherhand.ItwasonlywhenDithreatenedtoshoutandcrywouldheletgo.Thenthecallsstarted.Onceaday,andthentwiceaday,andafterthattillBuajipulledthecordoutofthephone.
TwicehehadbangedthedoorinthemiddleofthenightandthenranawaywhenDadajiwalkedout,brandishinghisstick.Ofcourse,BuajiandFufajihadpointedtheirfingersatDivyaDi.
‘Youmusthaveencouragedhim,’theyhadsaid.
Andthen,outoftheblue,therumourspreadlikewildfirethatDivyaVaidandVibhorGuptahadhadsexinthelibraryaftercollegehours.Inasmalltownlikeours,peopleliveforrumourslikethis,andsoonabunchofpeoplesubstantiatedthem,sayingtheyhadalwayssuspectedtherewassomethinggoingonbetweenthetwo.TherumourneversatwellwithmebecauseIknewthatVibhorGuptahadendedtherelationshipwithDi—
leavingheracryingmessforweeks—andleftherforanothergirlmonthsbeforethewhispersstarted.
Sowhydidn’tDivyaDiownuptothetruth?
Ihadgottenmyanswerintheweeksthatpassed.Meghnad’stripstoourhousetrickledtoastop.Thelasttimehehadcampedoutsideourhouse,heandhisfriendshadbrokenalcoholbottles,screamedprofanitiesforanhourinthemiddleofthenight,andspray-paintedtheword‘RANDI’ontheboundarywall.IttookDivyaDiandmethebetterpartofadaytosmudgeitintoalargeblackblot.
DivyaDitoldmeoneday,‘BoyslikeMeghnad?Theywon’tacceptagirlwhohasbeenwithanotherman.It’sagainsttheirmasculinity.’Infact,itwasDiwhohadconcoctedandspreadtherumour.Shehadsaid,‘Lookatitthisway.VibhorhaslefttownandgonetoDelhi,andIdon’thavetodealwithMeghnadanymore.’
KaranandAnshumanBhaiyahadletgooftheopportunitythen,butthey
-
weren’tgoingtoletitgonow.
‘MadhubanHotel,that’swherethemadarchodisstaying!’saidKaranBhaiya,twirlingthebatinhishand.
He’stheonewithstupidbravado,whileAnshumanBhaiya,awimp,isthemorecunningofthetwo.
‘Wewillbeattheshitoutofhim,’saidKaranBhaiya.
TheyspedoffonDadaji’sscooterbeforewecouldmakethemseesense.Wegotonourcyclesandfollowed.Theyshotoutofsightprettyquickly.
Earlierthatevening,duringtheauditions,thePunjabisingerhaddecidedtojoinDivyaDi’sdanceandputhishandsinplacesheshouldn’thave.Expectedly,DivyaDipunchedhisnosehardenoughtobreakit,andthreatenedtocallthecops.Theythrewheroutofthehotel.TheVaidbrothersweren’tsatisfiedwiththisnarrative.Isabrotherabrotherifhedoesn’tmeddleinhissister’saffairs?
WefoundtheVaidbrothers,paragonsofbrotherhood,avengersoftheirsister’spride,sittingwithbloodiednosesonthepavementoutsidethehotel.Thesingerhadleft,leavingbehindhistroupetodealwithmybrothers.
KaranBhaiyawasallbloodiedwhileAnshumanBhaiyadidn’thaveascratch.Theywerebrothers,buttheycouldn’tbemoredifferentfromeachother.KaranBhaiyaseeksoutfracasanddivesheadlongintothem;he’snottheoneintoplans,hisonlyplanishisfist.AnshumanBhaiya,ontheotherhand,iscowardlyandcunning.Onlylastweek,hehadfreakedoutlikeachildwhenDivyaDihadfilleduphisschoolbagwithfrogs.Hehadtakenrevengebyspittingintoourfood.
‘Lethimcometothecitythenexttime,’saidKaranBhaiya.‘Wewillseehowheleaves.’
Itwasalreadylate,soDiandIrodebackhome,chainedourcyclestotheelectricpole,andwereclamberingoverthefencewhenthelightscameoninthehouse.Thenewsofthefracasinthehotel,andourbrothers’heroicstandhadreachedtheelderstoo.
OutcameDadaji,swinginghiscane,blaring,‘WHEREDIDTHETWOOFYOUGO?’
-
DadajistrodetowardsusandraisedhisstickandstoppedjustshortofDi,whohadscrunchedherselfintoaball.
DivyaDistammeredsoftly,‘It…itwasn’tmyfault…thatsinger…’
Buajisaid,‘Ihadaskedhernottogo.’
FufajiaskedPapatokeepusunderherthumb.‘Bechkarizzatkhaajaengiyedono.
(Theywillsellourhonour.)Moneyisnoteverything,Prakash.’
Buajiaddedsternly,‘Twogirls,andbotharelikethis.Badiwaliwasalwayslikethis,characterless,butnowevenchhotiisgettingoutofhand,visitingcybercafésandwhat-not!’
WeknowthatDadaji,evenwithhisreputationofarespectedhomeopath,iscapableofdangerousviolence.Eventoday,everyoneciteswhathehaddonetothosethreepoorboyswhohadbrokenintohisclinicmorethantwodecadesago.Dadajihadscoutedoutthreeteenagerswhohadburgledhisclinicandbroughtdownhisstickonthem.Itwasamiracletheysurvivedthecrackedskulls,brokenribsandsmashedjaws.Onlookerswillstilltellyouthathewouldhavekilledthemthatdayhadpeoplenotintervened.TheboyswerepoorDalits,andDadajitoorespectedtobetouched,sothematterwasburiedunderthecarpet.Overtheyears,Dadajihasgivenplentyofexamplesofhowsavagehecouldgetwithhisstick.Everyfewmonths,thestickhastobereplaced,forthat’showlongitlasts.
Dadajistoodthere,lookedatusandMummaandPapaalternatively,shookhisheadderisively,andturnedandstrodeinside.
Lateratnight,DadajimadeKaranBhaiyaandAnshumanBhaiyaremovethefuseofthelinetoourroom,plungingusintodarknessandheat.Thedoortotheterracewaslocked.
Mummaburstoutlaughingattheirchildishness.
Allfourofussweatedlikepigsinourroom.
-
7August2002
Iconsidermyselfanoptimist,andoptimistslikemearen’tstupidoroutoftouchwithreality;whattheydohaveisathickerskin,ahigherthresholdofpain,andaneyeonthebiggerpicture.Despiterepeateddisappointments,Ihadallowedmycollegethebenefitofthedoubt.Mybigplanwastoinveiglemywayintocollegefestivalcouncils,makemyselfindispensabletothetreasuryorthesponsorshipdepartmentanddowhatthiscountryisgreatat—–ascam.Unfortunately,thecollegeprofessorsdecidedthatfirst-yearstudentsweretooyoungtobeapartofthemoreimportantdepartmentsandshouldberelegatedtoinfrastructuralandorganizationalrolesthatIhadnointerestin.WhyelsewouldIwanttobeinthisshittyexcuseofacollege?Youcanprettymuchgetadegreewithoutgoingtocollege.Adegreethat’sworthnothing.Vaids,anyway,havealwaysbeenindescribablybadinstudies.It’samarvelthatDivyaDiandIhavefinishedschool.KaranBhaiyaandAnshumanBhaiyahavehadtochangeschoolstwicebecauseoffailingintheeighthandninthclasses.Andyet,BuajiandFufajifosterastrangedreamtoputtheseblockheadsinanengineeringcollege.SoeveryextrarupeeinthehousegoesintothefundforthesetwojackasseswhomBuajiisobsessedwithseeingasengineers.
Nowbacktomycollege.
Ihadtowaitforotheropportunities,andgirldidIstumbleonone.
Myclass,fullofunambitiousslackers,werelettingtheirlibrarycardsgowaste,andthat’swhereIfoundmylittleopportunity.
Icollectednineteenlibrarycardsfromdifferentstudents,andstackedtogetherathomethenewesteditionsofthetextandreferencebooksrecommendedbytheprofessors.
Withinaweek,whilethestudentsweretoobusyingratiatingthemselveswithsocialhierarchiestocareaboutbooks,IhadcyclostyledcopiesofallthebooksIhadchosen.
Iwaitedforexamtime,whenpanicwouldreachacriticalmass;allstudentswerenowlookingforthebooksthatwereneatlystackedintheVaidhouse.Classichoarding.ThephotostatbhaiyaandIturnedinaneatprofitof4500rupees.
-
Butthistimethefourofusweren’tbuyinganything.ThemoneyishiddeninashoeboxinourGodrejalmirah.
Papagotusalootikkitocelebrate,buthehadtowaitoutsidethehousetillBuaji,Fufajiandthewastrelswereoutoftheway.Welitagarbattisbeforeweatetokeepthesmellfromwaftingtowardsanyone’snoses.
‘Lookatthem!Theelectricitybillisgoingthroughtheroof;theydon’tpaytheirshareandtheneattikkiseveryday!Thegallofthatwoman,’Buajiwouldshoutotherwise.
Itwasgoodmoney,buttemporarymoney,andnothingthatwouldgetusoutofthishouse.Butyougottocelebrateyourlittlevictories.
SomethingelsehappenedtodayandI’mnotsurewhattomakeofit.
Therewasthisboyinthelibrarytoday.
Handsduginhispockets,hewalkedaround,headbent,scouringthespinesofbooks,pausinglongeratthebiggeronesasifimaginingwhattheymustbeabout,hissoftlipsmovingslowly,relishingthenamesonhistongue,smilingsoftlyasifrememberingsomething,andthenmovingon.TwiceIthoughthehadcaughtmelookingathim.
Thinkingofitnow,Iwasonlystaringinanattempttomakesenseofthemazeofcontradictionsthathisfacewas.Remnantsofboyhood—thewantingeyesofapuppydogabandonedbyhisownersandthefulllipsofagirl—wagedawarforpossessionwithrampagingsignsofadulthood—astubborn,ingrownstubbleandanalmostcruelandpainfullysharpjawline.
EverycoupleofminuteshishandswouldslipintohispocketandhewouldchangethesongonhisWalkman.Orwasherewindingtothesamesong.IsawhimtakethebookIhadearmarkedformynextpicking.DidIseeaglintofexcitementinhiseyes,anaughtiness,asifhehadatoyinhishands?Hesatontheground,leanedontheracks,andflippedthroughthepagesfeverishlyatsomeplaces,andslowlyatsome,hummingconstantly.Iwasn’tasmucharrestedbyhiscute-boy-gone-roguevibeasmuchasIwasbythethrobbingbassofhisgrave,coarsevoice,whichseemedlikeithadbrokenonlyyesterday.Itfeltlikesomeoneholdingaheavy-dutyconcertspeakertomychest.THUMP.
-
THUMP.Alittlelater,thisgorgeousboycalmlyrippedoffthehardcoverofthebook—aneasyhacktosmugglebooksoutofthelibrary.Hetuckedthebookintothewaistbandofhisjeansatthebackandcasuallywalkedtowardstheexit.Imusthavebeenreallydistractedbecausehebumpedintomeonthewayout.
‘Sorry,Advaita.’Hisvoicewentstraighttothepitofmystomachandmadeitrumbleasifamillioncaterpillarshadjustfinishedtheirmetamorphosisintoaggressive,flutteringbutterflies.ItonlysettledlaterwhenIrealizedheknewmyname.Ihadneverseentheboybefore,hewasn’tinmyclass,andhewasn’tevenafamilyfriend’sfriend.Hewasastranger.Thatsnuffedoutthebutterfliesinaninstant.
9August2002
IcouldtalktoDiaboutthis,butshealwayssays,‘Boysareuselessandweshouldnevertalkaboutthem.’AfterVibhorGuptalefther,Dihadtakenaradicalanti-boystance,whichisunfortunatebecauseBOYSisagreatconcept(it’sromanticlovethat’snonsenseinmyopinion,notboys).Boysaregreattilltheyarenot.It’sthegreatestjoytoseegroupsofseven-year-oldboysfrolickingaround,gigglingandlaughingandjumpingoffstairsandkickingballsandfallingovereachother.Theyarebratsbutrespectfultowardstheirsistersandmothers,morethantheyaretothemselvesortheirownkind.Theygrumblebutdowhattheyareaskedtodo;theyhaveastrictmoralcodeaboutwhat’swrongandwhat’snot;theycleanupwellandarecutewithoutmeasure.What’snottolove?Thenwhathappensinthoseelevenyearsafterwhichtheybecomeunbearableateighteen?Howdoesonefallinlovewiththeseannoying,disrespectfulboys?ThankgodintheVaidhouseitisforbiddentofallinlove,thesheerexistenceofitisdenieddespiteMumma’sandPapa’slovestory.ShouldIgointothestory?Ihaveonlythesketchiestdetails…butwhattheheck.
It’shardformetoimagineBuajiasayoung,sprightlywomanfulloflifeandhopeanddreamsandaworkingheart,butit’ssaidthatshewasonceexactlythat.Afourteen-year-oldgirl,brightinstudies,someonewithaspringinherstepandanaughtytwinkleinhereye.SomesayshewasthesplittingimageofDivyaDi,andwasdeeplylovedbyeveryone.Ihaveseenoldpicturesof
-
herandIcantestifytothatpartofthestory.Shereallywasbeautiful.
Themonthwhentheincidenthappenedandthechronologyofeventsandthecharacterschangeeverytimethestoryistold,butovertheyearsIhavepickedoutthecommonnarrativesinallthestoriesandmadeoneofmyown.
ItwasJanuaryandfreezingcold,andDadaji,alongwithhisbrothersandtheirwives,wasoutsittingbythefirewhichDadijikeptalivebythrowinglittletwigsandstokingitfromtimetotime.PapawasthensevenandinDadiji’sbrother’sarms,whileAnilTaujiwasrollickingwiththeotherkids.Noonesawhowithappened,buteyewitnessaccountscategoricallystatethatitwasnoone’sfault.ThefirewasdyingdownandDadijihadbentoveralittletooclose,pokingatthedyingembers,whenherpallufelloverandburstoutinflames,engulfingherinasecond.Shescreamedandhowled,andwhileeveryoneunderstandablystoodfrozen,Buajifoolishlyandbravelyrantoher,andpulledthesarioffDadiji.Aspeoplewatchedinhorror,Buajitrippedandthesariwrappeditselfaroundher.
Thefire,whichhadsparedDadiji,nowburntthroughBuaji’sskin,meltedhertissueandcharredittothebonebythetimeDadajiandhisbrothersmanagedtoextinguishit.
Papatellsmehecanstillsometimessmelltheungodlystenchofhumanfleshburninginthecourtyard.
‘IsMaokay?’Buajihadaskedwhenshewasbeingtakentothehospital.
Papa,whowastoosmallforhismemoriestobereliable,saysthatBuajihadn’tshedasingletear,notthenandneitherwhenshewasinthehospitalrecovering.
Thingschangedswiftly.Shecamebackhomewithasplotchy,scaldedscartissuerunningfromthetopofhernecktothewrist,withtherightsideofherbodyreducedtoabattered,burntbattlefield.Revulsionfollowed,peopleturnedawaytheireyesinpityandshamefuldisgust,makingBuajirealizethatshewasnolongerwhatsheoncehadbeen.
Mirrorswerepaintedoveratthebehestofthedoctor.Notlongafter,shedroppedoutofschoolandthenstoppedleavingthehousealtogether.DadajiandDadiji,bothrackedbyguilt,dideverythingtheycouldtonotmakeherfeeldifferent,buttherewaslittletheycoulddo.Thatfirewastheinflexion
-
pointofDadaji’sandDadiji’srelationshipwithBuaji;theirloveforhermultipliedmanyfolds,andoftenbecameunreasonable.Familyheirloomsandjewelleryweresold,savingswereexhausted,andDadajiworkedhimselftodeathtopayforthereconstructivesurgeriesthattookplaceinDelhi.Butnothinghelpedmuch,anditwasBuajiwhoputastoptothefutilityoftheexercise.
Therealizationthatshewouldnevergetmarriedhadalsostruckhome.
Inanexceptionallyunreasonablemoment,DadajimadeAnilTaujiandPapaforsakemarriagebecauseheknewthatthedaytheygotmarried,conversationsaroundBuaji’smarriagewouldflyfastandthick.
Taujiforsakeloveandmarriageandfamily,butPapadeceivedeveryonewhenhedaredtofindloveandhappinessinMumma.Dramafollowed,butthat’sastoryforanothertime.
WithAnilTaujiandDadijispendingtheirlivesblamingthemselvesforwhathappenedtoBuajiandcringingpitifullyeverytimetheysawher,andPapahavingbrokenherheart,itwasonlyDadajiwhosawbeyondherscarsandbecamehereverything:friend,family,father.Theywerecompleteinthemselves.
‘Iwillonlybeyourdaughter,’BuajiusedtotellDadaji.‘Noone’swife,noone’smother.Iamokaywiththat.’
Butsoonafter,FufajiwalkedintoBuaji’slifeandagreedtomarryherwithoutarupeeindowry,givingBuajiachanceatnormalcy.Buajifellinlovewiththemanandgotmarriedwithinamonth.Buaji’sweddingdayistheonlydayDadajihasevercried.ThepicturesofBuaji’sweddingconfirmthat;Dadajilooksahappybutbrokenman.
WhatIsayfromhereispurehearsayandthere’sahugechancethatnoneofitistrue.
Fufajiwasn’tthemaneveryonethoughthimtobe.Marriageforhimwasjustacoverto
carryonhisphilanderingbehaviour,andwhatbettercoverthanBuaji,apityproject?It’ssaidthattheirweddingwasneverconsummatedandthatKaranBhaiyaandAnshumanBhaiyawereborninalabandbornebyBuaji.
-
‘IVFinolderwomenoftenresultsintwins,’saysDi,whofirmlybelievesinthestory.
Solovehashadasketchyhistoryinourhouse.EventhoughIneverwanttostumbleintothedelusional,romanticaspectoflove,Idoenjoylookingatboysfromtimetotime.IhaveheardthatboysfromDelhiaremuchbetterlooking,andthosefromBengalurumorearticulate,fromMumbaimoreambitious,andfromKolkatamoreloving,butfornow,Dehradunboyshaveservedtheirpurposewell.
Andthisboy…uff.
Buthowthehelldidheknowmyname?
11August2002
ThemoretimeIspendthinkingofhimthemorehandsomehegetsinmyhead,andtheangrierIget.Iknowitshouldonlybethelatter,butIcan’tshakeofftheimageofhimgazinglovinglyatthebooks.Iwouldhavetakenhimtobeacriminal—withaneighteen-wheelerheavybaritone—ifhehadanAK-47inhishand,buthehadbooks.Helookedmore…likeapoet,anangryonewhohasnotbeengettingpaidforbrokenwords,whogetshisheartshatteredfornothing.Ijusthadtostopthinkingabouthim.Whohadheaskedaboutme?Howdidheknowmyname?Isn’tthatwhatstalkersdo?Wasn’tthatwhatMeghnaddid?MaybeI’moverthinkingthis.Iknowthenamesofalotofpeopletoo,noneofwhomknowmine.ButIneedtoconfronthim,containthisbeforethingsspiraloutofcontrol.AndI’vejustgottostopthinkingabouthim.
Shiftingtomoreimportantmatters,ManishChachu’sbackfromSaharanpur.
Afterfailingasamedicalrepresentative,losingasmallfortuneinrealestate,hehasdecidedtotryhishandatthefurniturebusiness.
‘YourChachuistoosoftforbusiness.Heshouldhavebeenabigmoviestarinstead,’
Papaalwayssays.
-
ChachuwasDadaji’sfavouritebecausehewasBuaji’sfavourite,butthenhegrewtoooldandtoounsuccessful,anddroppedoutofhisfavour.Itgotworsewhenhekeptdeflectingthequestionofmarriage.AfterPapa’sdebacleofgivingDadajitwogranddaughters,ManishChachuwastheonlywaythegreatVaidnamewouldsurvive.
Buteventhen,herarelygetstheshortendofthestickfromDadajibecauseofhowmuchBuajiloveshim.Bornayearafterthatcalamitousfire,BuajihadgottenattachedtoChachuquickly;hewastheonlyonewhodidn’tseeherasavictimanddidn’tflinchwhenhesawher.SheliterallybroughtManishChachuup.BuajidideverythingtomakeManishChachuanotherDadaji,butonlymanagedaseverelywatered-downversion.
Lastyear,theremainingchunkofDadiji’sjewellerywaspawnedofftosaveChachufromthemurkymoneylendershehadchosentoowe.Noquestionsasked.
‘Icouldhaveemployedmoretailors,rentedashop,giventhemoneybackwithdoubletheinterest.Yourbuajiisblind,shehasnosenseofmoney,’Mummahadgrousedbackthen.
‘She’dratherslitherwriststhanhelpyou,’Ihadreplied.
He’sagood-lookingman,nodoubtaboutthat,somuchsothattillIwaseightIwasadamanthewouldbethemanImarried.Iwouldchasewomenawayfromhimwithastick.Whenhewasyounger,heusedtobemuchkindertousthanourbrothers,andwewouldclingtohim.Thoseweregoodtimes.
ManishChachuisthirty-five,pasttheso-calledprimemarriageableagebyatleastfiveyears.However,despitehisadvancedage,andhisfailuretomakesomethingofhimself,he’sstillavaluedpickinthemarriagemarket.He’stall,he’sgotDadaji’sgoodlooksandisjustasfinickysartorially.LikeDadaji,hewouldn’tbecaughtdeadwithouthisfitted,starchedwhitekurta–pyjamas.WhenChachuwasyounger,brasholdwomenwouldflocktoDadijiwithproposalsfortheirdaughters,allofwhichwererejectedwithanupturnofthenoseandawaveofDadaji’swalkingstick.Theywantedsomeonericher,morebeautiful,lessfat.Theproposals,onceagush,slowedalittleoncewordgotoutofManishChachu’swretchedluckwithmoney.
‘Ofcourseyourbuajiislookingforagirlforhim,’Mummasaidtoday.‘Withyourdadajifallingsicksooften,theyneedthemoney.Doyouthinkyour
-
dadaji’spatientspayhimanything?Nothing.Thenga.Onlyrespect,nomoney.’
FufajiandBuajiknowmostoftheoldergirlsinDehradunandtheirfamiliesbynameandthekindofmoneytheyhave.
‘Onlyagirlcansetthingsright,bringhappinesstothehouse,’Buajioftensaysthesedays.
DivyaDiandIraiseourhands,buttheyareignored.Byhappiness,weallknowshemeansmoney.Dowryisonlybadwhenwomenareburntforit.
‘Maybethentheywillthrowusoutiftheyfindagirlrichenough,’Mummawouldsay.
‘Theywouldbeabletoaffordmaidsthen.’
‘Whyareyousadaboutit?Itwillbegoodriddanceifweleaveandtheyforgetallaboutus!’DivyaDiwouldsay.
‘Wheredoyouthinkourrationcomesfrom?’Iwouldbuttin.
‘Wewillbeabletoaffordit,’DivyaDiwouldbeconfident.‘Youpeoplejustdon’twanttotaketherisk.’
‘IamnotsureIwanttoriskstarvation,’Iwouldscoff.‘Di,there’snowaywewillbeabletopaytherent.Orevenfindahouse.’
‘Oh,please,’DivyaDiwoulddisagree.‘Iftheyaskustoleave,theyarenotgoingtomakeitdifficultforustofindone.Getoveryourvictimsyndrome.’
DivyaDihasalwaysbeenthemostoptimisticofusall,eggingusontoleaveeverythingandmovetoDelhi,farfromDadaji’sinfluence,andtrytomakealivingthere.SheassumesMumma’scustomerswouldmagicallyappear,andsheherselfwouldgetalotof
work:‘Therearepeopledyingtogivemesmalljobsorinternships,andscoresofmodellingassignmentsawaitme.’
‘Stoptalkingabouthiswedding!’Mummawouldsay.‘Nothinghashappenedyet.’
-
That’strue.ManishChachuhasbeenlessthanenthusiasticaboutgettingmarried.ItwasonlywhenheaskedDadajiandFufajitoloosentheirpursestringsforhisfurniturebusinessideathat,hehadtogiveintotheirdemandsforhismarriage.
‘Noone’sgoingtogetmarriedtohimifhedoesn’thavearunningbusiness,oratleastashop,’FufajihadarguedinfrontofDadaji.‘Wewillrecoupeverythingfromthegirl’sfamily.Trustme.’
DivyaandIhavevowedtofoilourfamily’sdesigns.
‘ManishChachu?Doyoureallywanttogetmarried?Ineverthoughtyouwould,’askedDivyaDi.
‘Everyonehasto.Yourtimeisgoingtocomesoon,’hesaidbeforehepickeduphishelmet.
14August2002
15AugustisabigdayforDivyaDiandme.
WhathadstartedasacompetitionbetweenKaranBhaiyaandAnshumanBhaiyaononesideandDiandIontheothermeansalotmoretousnow.
Mummagetsirritatedathowseriouslywetakethisday—theunabashedaggression,thewar-likepreparationandthewholeattitude.ButDiandIlookforwardtotheadrenalinerushofwinningthekite-flyingmatch,andcountingthescarsleftbehindbythecrushedglassofthemanjacuttingthroughourfingers.Theyarelikenotchesonourbelt,badgesonourchest,ourwarpaint.Weareundoubtedlythebestintown.Wehaven’tsettledwhoisthebetteroneamongstusthough.Theonetimewehaddecidedtofightagainsteachother,ithadendedwithnine-year-oldmewrappingthemanjaaroundDivyaDi’snecktryingtomakeherconcededefeat.MummaandPapatellmeIcouldhavekilledherthatdaywhichItookasanexaggerationthen,butnowIknowitcouldbetrue.Abarelyvisiblescarintheshapeofalongsmileonherneckstillbearstestimonytothatday.
Theyearbeforelastwehadtakenbetsandonpaperwewon3000rupees.
-
Imaginethat!
Inoneevening!ButthennoonecoughedupanymoneyandtheparentsofafewkidsevencomplainedtoDadajiaboutDivyaDiterrorizingthem,andthatwasthat.
Anyway,todayisthedaywebuyourkitesandthebaddest,sharpestmanjainthemarket.Theshopkeepersarenotgoingtosaveupthedelicatekitesforayear,sothediscountsarecrazy.Andwhat’sthedealwithflyingkitesonanyotherdaythan15
August?Whatexactlyareyoucelebrating?AThursday?15August,IndependenceDay,kitesflyinghighandfree,dopeoplenotgetthemetaphor?
ButneitherDinorIflykitesforfunanymore,wedoittowin.It’sthedaywhentheVaidsistersalwayscomeoutontop.
Wewereonourwaybackfromthemarketwhenwesawabunchofkidsrunningandshouting,‘Baarvan!YeBaarvantha!’
‘Didtheyreallysaytwelve?’askedDi,stoppingthescooter.
ThehighestnumberofkitesDiandIhavecutwithasinglekiteisseven.Andthat’stheunofficialDehradunrecord.Wehadtofindoutifthesekidsweretellingthetruth.Wedrovebehindthekids,eyesonthesky,lookingforthekiteresponsibleforobliteratingourrecord.
Withinminutes,wespottedit.Ashimmeringblackkitewhichswooped,glidedandcutthroughtheairwithincredibledecisiveness.DiandIgaspeddespitetryinghardnottobeimpressedwiththewholething.Thenextsecond,Dibangedthescooteragainstathela,awoodencartfulloflitchis.
‘Goandseewhoitis,’Disaidtome,evenasshetradedinsultswiththethelaguy.
Itracedthemanjaofthekiteandraninitsdirection..AleftfromtheRispanapul,rightthroughJogiwalla,pastthetaxistand,asharpleftfromthebusstop,andstraightontotheHaridwarbypass.
Andtherehewas,standingontheroad,fingersbleeding,tonguerollinginhischeek,eyesstuckonthetautmanja,wriststwistingandturning,feetmovingswiftly—averitablekitegod!Hewasgood,verygood!Hishandsomeface
-
wasanexampleinconcentration.
Hewastheboyfromthelibrary.WasIimaginingit?No.Hewasthere.Reallythere.
IhadnoinstructionstogotalktohimandsoIstoodthereandwatched.Tobehonest,Iwasalongwayfromhome,andIwasabitscaredaboutapproachinghim.
Hedidn’thaveanextrakitelyingaround,nobackupplanifhelostthisoneintheair.
Sucharrogantconfidenceheexuded,borderingonthefoolish.Hedidn’texult,celebrate,pumphisfistandshout‘Aivokaate!’likeanamateurwhenhewonaduel.Hewouldshrugandmoveontothenewone,hisfacenotbetrayinganyemotion.Isatdownandlookedathimdominatethefield,mimickingthewayhiswristsmoved,committingtomemoryhistricks;Iwasbothmesmerizedandfurious.Alittlelater,hefinallylosthiskite.Hewasn’tbeaten.Theweatheredmanjahadjustgivenawayandthekitefloatedawayintothemountains,afittingendtohisinnings.Hepickedupthecharkhari,thespindleforthestring,turnedandleft.Ifollowedhimbuthewalkedtoobrisklyanddisappearedintotheopenfields.
Istoppedafewkidsrunningafterakiteandaskedthemwhohewas.
Oneofthegirlssaid,‘Mainahijaanti.Ek–dobaarbasbastimeindekhahai.(Idon’tknow,Ihavejustseenhimacoupleoftimesintheslums.)’
Myhour-longsearchforthatboyyieldednothing,nooneknewwhoIwastalkingabout(butIcouldn’ttellanyonethathewasgorgeous,orthathefilchedbooksfromalibrary,orthathewasmagnificentwithakite,soI’mnotsureiftheyweretalkingabouttherightguy).
Onmywayback,Ifoundhischarkharilollingaboutontheroadside.Iwon’tlie,Ipickeditupandcarriedithome.AtfirstIwasjustcurioustoseeifitwasanydifferentfromtheonesweusedandalmosteventhrewitawaywhenIsawitwasn’t,butforsomereasonIkeptithidden.
‘Wherewereyoulost?’DivyaDisnappedatmewhenIgothome.
ItriedtoliebutDivyaDiknewstraightawaythatIwasfibbing.Ispilledall.
-
‘Boyscanneverbeourfriends.Asforhisrecord,wewillbeatittomorrow,’shesaidsternly.
17August2002
It’sbeentwodaysbutmyfingersstillhurt.Di’sareevenworse.Wedidn’tevencomeclosetobeatingthatboy’srecordbutwedidbeatourownusingthetipsIhadgleanedfromlookingatthatboy.Atonepoint,evenBuajiwascheeringforus,exultingoveroureverywinagainsttheneighbourhoodboys.It’sinmomentslikethesethatIimagineanalternativerealitywhereourrelationshipsaren’tstrainedbymiseriesandhate,andthatfillsmyheartwithsomuchjoy.Butthenagain,ashumans,Ithinkcrueltyandhatredtowardseachotherisourdefaultsetting,andthemoretimepeoplespendwitheachotherthemorechancesarethereforthemaskofcivilityanddecencytoslipaway…
Wedidn’tspothiskite.Whywouldsomeonesogoodchickenouton15August,adaywheneveryonebringsouttheirbest?Diisn’tthinkingaboutitanymore;shedoesn’thavetountilnextyear,butshesensedthatIwascaringalittletoomuch.
‘Doyoulikehim?’sheasked,straightoffthebat.
‘What!No?I’vejustseenhimtwice.’
‘Stayawayfromthatboy.Ifhefeelshe’sgettingsomeattentionoutofacutegirllikeyou,whoknowswhathewillhedo?’
‘I’mnotcute,’Isaid.
‘Don’tfishforcompliments,’shesaid.‘Wedon’twantanotherMeghnadonourhands.
Youwouldn’tknowhowtohandle—’
‘Shutupandtellmeifyou’recomingwithmetoSaharanpurtomorrow,’Isaid.Idon’tknowwhyIwantedtosteertheconversationawayfromDibashingtheboy.Ididn’tevenknowhimandyet…
-
‘Dowehavetogo?’sheasked,displeased.
‘Mummaneedsclothforthelehngaorders.Icangoaloneifyoudon’twantto’
DivyaDipausedforabitbeforesayingshedidn’tmind.Unlikeme,DiisjustifiedindislikingSaharanpur.Butit’snotthatshehasn’tbumpedintoMeghnadinDehradunintheoddestofplaces.SometimesIfeelheorchestratestheseaccidentalbump-ins,andthathestillhasn’tgottenoverDi.Evennowheandhisfriendsshoutout‘slut’and‘whore’
whenevertheyrunintoDiinpublicplaces.
Justwhenwethinkwe’veseenthelastofhimandhisshenanigans,someoneortheotherremindsusofwhathadhappenedallthoseyearsback.Mostwomeninthe
neighbourhood,theoneswhohadseenthefullestextentofMeghnad’smadness,shamelesslytellusthatweletagoodboyoutofourhands.
Butthegoodboythewomengushaboutisoftenfoundterrorizingotheryoungwomen.
18August2002
It’satwo-hour-longboring,dustyridetoSaharanpur.EverytimeIwishthedriveisn’tasbadasthelasttime,butitalwaysis.Thebusitselfisfilthybeyondimagination:paan-stainedcorners,vomitstreaksoneverywindow,allkindsofsmells—frompeoplecarryingfoodandvegetablestosell.IusuallysleepanddroolalloverDi’sshoulderfortheentiretwo-hourjourney.
‘Wehavereached,’saidDivyaDiandthebusstutteredtoahalt.‘Wewon’twasteanytimeherelikethelasttime.Keeplookingoveryourshoulders.Slimchancethathewouldbehere,butyouneverknow.’
Inoddedandweheadedout.
TheVaidsaremasterbargainers.Wetakeprideinit!Andsowhatshouldhavebeenaquickin-and-outstretchedtofourhours.DiandIwerelockedin
-
afiercebattleoverwhocouldwinthebetterdiscountsfromtheseasonedwholesalersofSaharanpur.Bythetimewefinished,itwassundownandwehadtoshoutandbawlourwaytothelastbusbacktoDehradun.Wepaidthefullfarebutdidn’tgetaseat.
‘Somuchforsavingmoney,’saidDi.
ThebushadbarelyleftSaharanpurwhenabottleofbeercamecrashinginsidethroughthewindowbehindus.Littleshardsofglasscrunchedbeneathourfeet.Allofuslookedoutside,scared.Wesawacarwithabunchofboyshangingoutofthedoor,shouting,screaming,whistling.‘OYE!IDHAR!IDHAR!’
Divyaclutchedmyhandinmildpanicandmyheartleaptup.
Meghnadwasonthedriver’sseatgazingstraightattheroad,nostrilsflared,asifithadn’tbeenyearsbutdayssincethatincident.Helookeddrunk;everyoneinthecardid.
Hehadnowgrownamenacingbeardwhichaccentuatedhiscrookednoseandhisdoped-outeyes,andlookedinfinitelymorerepulsiveandlizard-like.Dituggedatmyarm,mademesitdownandaskedmenottolookoutside.Thecarfollowedusforacouplemorekilometres;insultsweretradedbetweentheconductorandtheboys—theconductorpolite,theboysincorrigible—andmorebottleswerethrownin.Thebusreekedofalcohol.Whenthecarstoppedfollowingus,afewpassengerslookedatusaccusingly.
‘Kyahai?’Disnappedback.‘Wedon’tknowthem!’
Wemusthavecoveredjustanotherkilometrewhentherewasaloudbangandthebussplutteredtoahalt.Atirehadgivenway.Thepassengersgrumbled,butknewtheyhadno
choice,andeveryonegotoff.Itwasdiscoveredthatthepuncturehadtodowithafewironnailsthathadbeenstrewnontheroad.Wouldn’tbetheworstthingMeghnadhasdone.Infact,quiteanimprovementfromlastmonthwhenhehadwhippedoutagunatsomeonewhohadcuthimoffintraffic.
Asthedriverandconductorwerechangingthetyre,wedrankacupofrevoltinglysweetteaattheroadsidedhaba.
ThenIsawtheboyagain—thebook-stealing,name-knowing,kite-flyingboy,
-
washinghishandsatthedhaba’shandpump.Idouble-checked.Itwashim,nodoubtaboutit.
Ifanything,hiskurtawasevendirtierandhewascarryingabackpack.Nowhewassittingaloneinacorneronabenchofthedhaba,writinginanotebook.Hedidn’tlookupevenoncebeforetheconductorcalledeveryonetoboardthebus.
‘Thereareafewmorepeopleboarding,soifyouwanttogototheroof,feelfreetodoso,’saidtheconductor.
Peoplerushedin,andDitriedtopushmeinside.
‘Iwilltaketheroof,’Isaid.
‘Why?Mummawillkillusifshegetstoknow.’
‘Shedoesn’thavetoknow,’Isaid.
‘Fine,I’msittinginside,’shesaidandwentin.
Ifollowedtheboyandabunchofothersatopthebus.Theconductorslammedhishandonthesideofthebus,andaskedustobecarefulatthetop.
Betweenhimandmesattenothers.TwiceItriedwalkinguptothefrontofthebuswherehesat,butpeoplesatmedown,tellingmeitwastoodangerous.Theboydidn’tturntolook,andkeptscribblinginhisnotebook,whichhewasstrugglingtoholdonto,hisrough,longhairfloppingbehindhishead.
‘Oye!’Ishoutedfinally.‘Oye,you!’
Theboyturnedandlookedatme.
‘What?’hesaidgruffly.
‘HOWDOYOUKNOWMYNAME!’Ishoutedbackoverthehonksofthebus.
Withoutmissingabeat,hesaid,‘Whodoesn’tknowthegranddaughtersoftherespectedDrVaid?’
-
Helookedawayfromme.
Itwascleartomethathewaslying,butIcouldn’tfindthewordstoprobefurther,toaskwhathisnamewas.
Ifumbledforawaytostartaconversationbutfellshortandhegotbacktohisnotebook.
Forthenexthour,Isatuprightandalert,tocatchtheboyassoonasthebuscomestoastop.Butwhenthebusstopped,hejustjumpedofffromthefrontanddisappeared.Ifeltfrustrated.
Theboywasgone.Whodoesn’tknowthegranddaughtersoftherespectedDrVaid?
EverytimeIhearthisinmyhead,Iambaffled.
WhenIfirstheardit,themeaningwassimple.ItwasatauntatDivyaDiandme,theshamefulprodigaldaughters.Ineffect,hewassaying,‘Whodoesn’tknowabouttheinfamous,bigdi-huigranddaughtersofDrVaid?
ButnowthatIkeepgoingthroughthewordsrepeatedlyinmyhead,IfeelhisstresswasonthewordsrespectedDrVaid.AsifhewasnottauntingDiorme,butDadaji.Thewordrespectedwasutteredwithsarcasm,notreverence.MaybeitwassaidtostripDadajiofbothrespectandthetitleofdoctor.Andwhynot?Itmadesensetome.Forus,neitherofitwasvalid.ButwhatcouldhehaveagainstDadaji?
23August2002
There’sapujaatManishChachu’snewshop.
DadajiandManishChachuworewhite,starchedkurtas,andlookedlikefreshlymintedpoliticians.Fufajiworetheonlysuithehad,andPapawasinanoldshirt–pant,lookingliketheiraccountant.
‘Whydowehavetogo?’grumbledDi.
‘WhenwasthelasttimeDadajipaidforourmeal?’Iasked.
-
‘Keepyourmouthsshut,don’tlaughatChachu,anddon’tlookDadajiintheeye,’saidMummabeforeweleft.
KaranBhaiyaandAnshumanBhaiyahadspentagoodpartoflastnightandthismorningsweeping,washingandpaintingtheshop.AboutahundredyardsfromtheGhantaghar,theclocktower,itwashousedinaprimelocationandhadcomeataheftyprice.DadajiandBuajihaddippedintothefundthathadbeensavedupforKaranBhaiya’sandAnshumanBhaiya’sengineeringstudies.
‘Nowseethekindofrishtasthatwillcomeflocking!’FufajisaidwithgleeasKaranBhaiyaandAnshumanBhaiyafixedtheshopboard:Vaid’sFurniture.Proprietor:ManishVaid
ThepanditwaslatebyanhourandDadajigrumbledlikeitwasourfault.
DadajimadeKaranBhaiyaandAnshumanBhaiyadusteverycorneroftheshopagainwhilewewaitedoutside.
Myattentionwascaughtbythesoundofamotorcycle.Iturned.Wasthisacertaintrend?OfseeinghimwhenandwhereIleastexpectedto?Inacloudofdust,ridinga150-ccchoking,coughing,angryEnfield,hissoiledwhitekurtabillowinginthewind,andapandit—withpaandribblingoutofthecornersofhismouthlikeblood—clingingontohimfordearlife,therehewas
‘Arre!Pagal!Whodriveslikethis?Areyouamadman?’cursedthepandit,scramblingoffthebike.
‘Yourgodwillsaveyou,willhenot?’saidtheboyimpudently.
Thewomenofthehousewhoarenotsupposedtotouchthefeetofanyoneotherthantheirelderlyrelativeswereaskedtotouchthisfoul-mouthed,paan-chewingman’s.The
panditscrunchedhisnose,andwavedusawaywithoutsomuchasalook,asifwewerelepers.
HeaskedDadaji,‘Noneofthewomenareimpure?’
Buaji,Mumma,DiandIshooktheirheads.
ThepanditwalkedinandafterhimDadajiandManishChachu.Thenthe
-
panditturnedaroundandtoldPapainamatter-of-facttone:‘Yourdaughterscancomein,butnotyourwife.’
‘Haanji,ofcourse.It’smyfault.Ishouldhaveremembered,’saidMummapolitelyandsteppedawayfromtheentranceoftheshop,hertearsbarelyhidden.‘…it’smyfault.’
‘But,panditji—’
‘Shecancomeinafterwefinishthepuja,’thepanditinterruptedPapasummarily.ThenFufaji,Buaji,KaranBhaiyaandAnshumanBhaiyawalkedinside.Papaandtherestofusstoodoutside,shakinginfury.
‘OmPrakash!’thunderedDadajitoPapa.‘You’reneededhere.’
ThiswasnotthefirsttimeandyetsomethingbreaksinsideuseverytimeMummaisaskednottopartakeinhavansandpujas,thereligiousceremoniesofthehouse;thisfeelingkeepsgettingworse.Weshouldn’tevenfeelbadanymorebut…
Earlier,DivyaDiandIusedtobesubjectedtothesametreatment,butovertimeithaschanged.AsifsomehowPapahadmanagedtodiluteourmother’slower-castelineageoutofus.
‘Pitaji,shealsoshouldbe—’saidPapa.
‘Wecanstartwithoutyou,’saidDadaji.
Papaloweredhisheadandsaid,‘Startwithoutme.’Dadajiwasfuming.
DivyaDihadalsojustbeguntoturnawaywhenMummaheldherhandandmadeherstay.Wewatchedon,ourfacesburningwithshameandanger.
Thehavan,thesacredfire,waslit,withthemeninthefrontandBuajiattheback.
Mummawhispered,‘I’mOK,itdoesn’tmeananything.’
Idamnwellknowwhatthesefucking,divisiveritualsmean!Theyareallhogwash,meantfordim-wittedpeople.
DivyaDisquirmedinMumma’sgrip.Meanwhile,Idistractedmyselfby
-
stealingglancesattheboywho’ddecidedtostayandwatchtheceremony.Theboyleanedagainstthemotorcycleandstaredunblinkinglyintothefire.OnceinawhilehewouldchangesongsonhisWalkmanandthenagaincarryonwithhisstaringbusiness.Twice,hespatonthegroundasthepandit’sslokareachedacrescendo.
Thethirdtime,hewalkedovertoDivyaDi.
‘Thiswillhelp,’hesaid,andgaveherhisWalkmanwiththeearphonesdanglingfromit.
Helookedstraightatmeandsaid,‘Youtakeone,’andpointedtooneendoftheearphone.
BeforePapaandMummacouldprotest,heturnedawayfromusandstartedwalkingbacktothemotorcycle.IgnoringMumma’sprotests,wepushed‘play’,andliterallytheharshestrock/metal/whatever-it-is-called,blaredoutoftheearphones.Thepandit’swordswerenolongeraudible,anditseemedlikehewastheonemouthingtheexpletivesinthesongwewerelisteningto.NolongerdidDilookfurious.Thesongchangedanditwasnolongermetal.Itwasasongfromourchildhood—fromthemovieDulaara;thesong‘MeriPantBhiSexy’hadbeenbannedbecauseithadthatword‘sexy’init.Itwashilarious.DivyaDiandIdideverythingwecouldtonotbreakoutlaughingattheboy’saudaciouschoice.
DivyaDismiledattheboy,andflashedhimathumbs-up,andhenoddedeversoslightly.
KaranBhaiyanudgedAnshumanBhaiyaandpointedattheearphonesinourearsandthesmilesonourfaces.Wedidn’ttakeoureyesoffthehavan,whichwasnowverymuchtolerable.
‘Youcancomeinsidenow,’saidthepanditoncethepujawasover,andweallshuffledin.
Wewerenowingreatspirits.
‘Youcancomeinsidetoo,’Dadajisaidtotheboy.
Theboylookedon,notanswering,andsaidafteralongpause,‘Idon’twanttogetinvolvedinthisnonsense.Iwasaskedtodropthepandithereandtakehimback.Ifthere’smorework,Ineedtogetpaidforit.’Helitanother
-
cigaretteandletithangfromhislipslimply.IwascorrectaboutWhodoesn’tknowthegranddaughtersoftherespectedDrVaid?HisdemeanourshowednovisiblerespectforDadaji.
‘Isthathowyouwerebroughtup?’saidBuajisternly.‘Callhimpanditji!’
‘DoesitlooklikeIamtalkingtoyou,aunty?’hesaid,hisvoiceharsh.
DivyaDiandIlookedateachother,andthebriefestofsmilespassedbetweenusbeforeKaranBhaiyastoodupandsaid,‘Saale,isthisthewaytotalk?Tameeznahihaikya,whereareyourmanners?’
Theboythrewthecigaretteonthegroundandcrusheditwithhischappals.
‘Idon’twanttocauseaproblemhere,’hesaid,staringstraightatKaranBhaiya,whowasitchingforafight.
AnshumanBhaiyawassizingtheboyup,andperhapsrealizedthathisbrotherwasnomatchforthecalmgruffnessoftheboy.
‘Leavehimalone,’saidthepandit.
‘Didn’tyouseehowhetalkedtoyou?Tomother?’askedKaranBhaiya.
‘Listentome,Karan.Wewilldealwithhimlater.Abhijaanedesuarko(Letthepiggo),’saidAnshumanBhaiyacautiously.
Theboystoodthereunmoving,staringunblinkinglyatKaranBhaiya,unaffectedandsupremelyarrogant.Andthen,hesteppedforward,hisfeetsure,hiseyesfocused.Iknewhowthiswasgoingtounfold.TheboywouldwalkwithinsniffingdistanceofKaranBhaiya,waitforhimtotakethefirstswing,takethehitboldly,andthenwatchKaranBhaiyanursehisbruisedknuckle;hewouldthensmile,lightanothercigarette,havealong,satisfyingpuff,andblowitallonKaranBhaiya’sface;finally,hewouldletgoaswiftuppercutandknockKaranBhaiyaout.HewouldthenstamponhisfacewhileholdingAnshumanBhaiyabyhisneck.
Noneofthathappened.
Hecametome,andcalmlyfishedouttheearphonefrommyrightearandthenDi’s.HewrappedthemaroundtheWalkmanmeticulouslyandputitallbackinhispocket.
-
TheboytookoutthekeyoftheEnfieldfromhisbackpocket,droppeditinmyhands,andsaid,‘AskyourFufajitodroptheoldmanhome.Askhimtobealittleuseful.’Heturnedandleft.
25August2002
Dehradunisasmalltown.Gossip,rumours,scandalsspreadlikewildfireandnooneknowsthatbetterthanus.Ditellsmeit’snotsointhebigcities,wherepeoplehidebehindlockeddoors,anddon’ttrusttheirneighbours.Trustingone’sneighbourshasnotgotanyoneanywhere,especiallyifyouhavetheoneswedo.
Soinaneighbourhood,andinatownlikeours,peoplewerereallycuriousaboutthisboyeveryonehadseen,butknewzilchabout.TheEnfieldwasfromagaragenearthepandit’shouse.
Thesearetherecordedtestimoniesofthepeoplewhohadtalkedtohim.
Hehasbeenhereafewtimes.Healwayssitsatthecomputeratthatfarcorner.Hewipeshisbrowserhistorybeforeheleaves,soIdon’tknowwhathelooksat.Nevertalkedtohim.Lookslikeagoonda,soInevertried.He’salwaysalittleangry.Don’tknowwherehe’scomefrom.Mybusinessisnottoaskquestions.—SureshUncle,GuptaCyberCaféHe’snotthatgood-looking.No,neverbotheredtoaskhisname.Hecallsmebhai,andIcallhimbhai.—Aboyfromthegarage
Tallguy?Wearskurtas?Heavyvoicelikesomeonedroveascooteroverhisneck?Haan,haan,Iknowhim.Niceboy.Paysaftereverypeg.Notroubleever.Thoughalittlescary.
Doesn’ttalkmuch,staresathisdrinkallthetimehe’shere.Notawordtoanyone.Lookslikehehasabrokenheart.Don’tknowhisnamethough.WhywouldIaskacustomerhisname?—Chachaji,ownerofabaronthehighwayTheboyisprettygood-looking.Buthealwayslooksangry,doesn’the?Alwayssketchyabouthispast.Musthaverunawayfromsomewhere.—AnotherboyfromthegarageAren’tyouOmPrakash’sdaughter?—NeerajUncle,owner,NeerajSweetShopHaveseenhimwiththoseboysoftheslumacoupleoftimes.Hetalkslittle.Heardfromsomewherethathehaddone
-
somethingbiginDelhi.Hadtorunawayandcomehere.
Howlong?Somesayayear?BeforethishewasinGhaziabad.Comeshereoftenwaitingforacall.Nevercallshisparents,that’sstrangeno?Beta,whyareyouasking?Aren’tyouVaidBhaisaheb’sdaughter?—SumanAuntyfromthePCOboothHedefinitelydidsomethinginDelhi.Otherwisewhydoeshehidehisname?Iaskedhimonce.Hedidn’tbothertoanswer.Lookslikealoaferthough.Don’ttalktohim.Doesn’tlooksafe.—SumanAunty’sson
Itoldhimonceortwicetostopsmoking.Butthere’salotofangerinhim,sohehastosmoke.Whatabouttheanger?DoyouthinkIwillaskhim?Whoknowswhathehasdone!
Idon’twanttogetintothat.—Rajesh,cornerpaanwalaAllofthisthrewupapictureofanangry,heartbrokenboywhohadrunawayfromDelhiaftersomethingbighadhappenedtohim,andfoundsuccourinDehraduninloneliness,cigarettesandtheoccasionaldrink.Butwhatwashedoingwiththatbookinthelibrary?
29August2002
Thismorning,theguyfromthegaragecalled.Theboyhadcometopickupabike,theircheapest,YamahaRX100,andpaidtwicetherentfortheday,plussecurity.
‘Youdidn’taskhisname?Whatkindofabusinessareyourunning?’Iasked.‘Doyouknowwherehewent?’
‘SahastradharaIthink,’hehadanswered.
Onastupidandrecklesswhim,ItookthescooteroutanddrovetoSahastradhara,theonlypicnicspotmyschoolknew.Askids,weweren’tallowedtotakeadipinthesulphur-richwaterorevensitontherocks,whichwereslipperyandweepy.IwasparkingmyscooterwhenIspottedhim.Perchedprecariouslyononeoftheweepingrocks,thebiggestofthemall,thewatermeanderingandgushingaroundhim.Shirtlessandwet,hesatthere,eyestowardsthesky,calmbuttaut.IshoutedanditstruckmeagainthatIdidn’thaveaname.OYE!Ishouted.MyOyesdidn’treachhim.
-
Exhaustedwithalltheshouting,Isattherewaitingforhimtoswimtothisside.Hewasnowlyingdown,lostinaworldofhisown.Thenafterwhatseemedlikehours,hegotup,andjumpedintotheshallowpool.Hewasnotseenforwhatseemedlikealongtime.Thenhecameupgaspingforair.Watersnakeddownhisbodyinlittlerivulets,navigatingitswaythroughhisrigidmusculature.HisbodyseemedlikeastarvedversionofMichelangelo’sDavid.Hehadthemuscles,thesinew,thenervesthatsnakedonhisarms,butwaslankier,maybeevenmoredefined,maybeevenmoreperfect.Ugh!Youcouldputhiminalabtostudymuscledefinition.
Igotup,andinthelightofthisspecimen,IbecameacutelyawareofhowmythighswobbledasIstoodup.Hedriedhimselfoffwithacloth,andslippedintohisjeansandablackT-shirtwhichhunglooselyonhim.
‘Hey!’
‘Yes?’hesaid,hiseyesboringintomethistime,hisvoicereverberatinginsideme.
‘Don’tyourememberme?’
‘AdvaitaVaid,’hesaid,walkingawayfrommewithacoldlook,afarcryfromhishelpfulselfthatday.Helitacigaretteandtookalong,hungrydragatit.
‘Thankyouforthatday,’Isaid,smilingpolitely.
Hekickedhismotorcycletolife,withoutsparinganod.Desperatetokeeptheconversationgoingandaweebitcurious,Isaid,‘Whatdidyoumeanbywhatyousaidthatday?GranddaughtersoftherespectedDrVaid?’
Hedidn’treactagain,andIwaspushedintosaying,‘Youcan’ttalkaboutgirlsthatway.’
‘Ididn’t.’
‘Youweretauntingus,DivyaDiandme,Iamnotdaft.’
‘Ididn’ttalkaboutanygirlinthemanneryou’reaccusingmeof.’
‘Thenwhowereyoutalkingabout?’
-
‘You’resmartenoughtodiscern,’hesaid,kickedthemotorcycletolifeanddroveaway.
‘HEY!’
Hewasalreadyfaraway.
Forthenexthourandahalf,IchasedhimdownallthroughtoDehradun,extractingeverybitfrommytwo-strokeengine.Afterawhile,itfeltlikehewasmockingme—hewouldslowdown,makingmefeelIwascoveringground,andthenspeedupagain.Later,heparkedhismotorcyclenearTomatoSoupWalla,amisnomerbecausehesellschickensouptoo.ThiswaswhereDiandIhadcaughtKaranBhaiyaandAnshumanBhaiyabeingbadHindusandslurpingonsoupfloatingwithchunksofchicken.
‘Whatdoyouwant?’heasked.
Hiswordswerelikeajackhammeronmyskull.WhatdidIwantfromhim?Icouldn’thavejustsaidthatheintriguedme,andIwouldn’tmindhavingaconversationwithhim.
Howlamewouldthathavebeen?So,likeaheadlesschicken,Ifumbledandstammered.
‘Arre?Youcan’tjustmockmyDadajiandwalkaway,’Isaid.
Helookedatmeandsaid,‘Iwon’tapologizeforwhatIsaidabouthim.’
‘That’srude.Idon’tknowwhatyouhaveheardaboutmyDadaji,butit’sunwarranted.
Tellmewhosaidwhattoyou?’
HelookedatmeasifIhadaskedhimsomethingridiculous.
‘Iamnotleavingbeforeyoutellmewhotoldyouwhat.Iwon’tstandforthisrumour-mongering,’Isaid,andleanedbackintothechair.
‘You’reseriouslygoingtositheretillIdon’ttellyou?’
‘Yes.’
-
‘Suityourself.’
Fifteenminutespassedandwhilehereadthroughthenewspaper,hardlyblinking,Igrewrestless.Hewasalsosippinghissoup,andspewingsmokeoutlikeagoddamnchimney.Mustbenicetoberichenoughtosupportsuchanexpensive,filthyhabit.
Ishouldhavegottenupandleft,butIstayedput.IhadovercommittedtothecauseandIwouldseethisthrough.Icouldbestubborntoo.WhatkindofgranddaughterwouldIbeifIdidn’tsquash‘rumours’aboutmyDadaji?
‘Areyoualwaysthissullenorisitjustyourvoice?’Iasked.
Hestaredatmeagain,sayingnothing,justthosepainfuleyeslookingatmeasifitwasmewhohaddonesomethingwrong.
‘IwantedtogiveyouthisforthatWalkmanthingyoupulledoffforus.Here,takeit,’Isaid.
‘What’sthis?’Heopenedthepolythenebagandheldthekurtainfrontofhim.Thebriefestsmilecameonhisface,buthesaid,‘Ican’ttakethis.’
‘It’smadeforyouandIgotintoalotoftroublegettingitforyou.Keepitordumpit.’
Heputthekurtabackinthepolythenebagandletoutafeeble‘thankyou’.
‘You’rewelcome,’Isaid.‘Butthatdoesn’tmeanIhaveforgottenaboutyourrumour-mongering!’
Herolledhiseyesirritably.
‘Youknowmyname.Theleastyoucandoistellmeyourname.YoulooklikeanAditya,areyou?Wait,wait.You’reSamir,aren’tyou?OrRehaan?’
‘Pickanyofthem.’
‘OK,Iwilldothat,butwhat’slikeyourrealname?Theoneyourparentsgaveyou.’
‘RaghuGanguly,’hesaid,catchingmygaze,andsmirkingpitifully.‘UsedtobeaproudHindu,aBrahminlikeyourgrandfatherandyourbuaji.’
-
‘Whyareyousmirking?Look,whateveranyonemighthavetoldyouitisnottrue.’
‘Isthatcorrect?’
‘Absolutely!’
‘Didhenotcelebratewhathappenedearlierthisyear?GiveafieryspeechagainstMuslimsattheMohyalConventioninJuly?AskforallHindustouniteanddrivetheMuslimsoutofthecountry?’Thelastofhiswordswereangrilyspatout.
‘Look,Ihardlyknowyouandyoucan’tjust—’
Hegrumbled,‘Didheordidhenot?’
‘Hedid.’
Earlierthisyear,thousandsofMuslims,andaslightlylesserproportionofHindushadbeencutdowntopieces.Bothcommunitieshadrapedeachother’swomen,impaledinfantsontridentsandswords,andburntdownneighbourhoodafterneighbourhood.Itissaidthatthebroad-chestedchiefministerwascomplicit,buteveryoneknowsthat—likeinthecaseofmostriotsinIndia—nothingisgoingtohappentohim.Thesupporthehad,explicitandimplicit,fromHindusallaroundthecountrywasoverwhelming.DadajihadbeenattheforefrontinDehradun,givingfieryanti-Muslimspeechesatgatherings,droningonabouttheneedforHinduhouseholdstostockuponcrowbars,swordsandaxesincasethewarspillsovertotheirstate.
‘Weshouldslowlyflushthemoutfromthiscountry,’Buajihadsaid.
Dadajihadsaid,‘TheytoomusthavejoinedthewaragainstusBrahmins.’
MummatoldmelaterthatAltafandIqbalweretooscaredtocometoourhousesincetheyhadheardaboutDadaji’sspeech.
‘Igottogo,’hesaidandfoldedthenewspaper.
‘But…butwhatdoesthathavetodowithyou?’Iasked.
‘Peoplelike…likeyourgrandfatherdestroyedmylife.’Heslammedthetable.
-
1September2002
Thingshavemovedratherquickly,andManishChachu’sshopisalreadyyieldingrichdividends.Onlyyesterday,ManishaChachu,FufajiandBuajiwenttothreehouses,twoonRajpurRoad,oneonTurnerRoad,andmeteligiblegirls.ManishChachuhadgonethroughtheproceedingswithhisheadhunglow,withtheinterest,ifyoumay,ofadyingman.Twoofthemwereintheirthirties,mangliks,butwealthyandservile,andthelastonewas,inBuaji’swords,‘unbearablyuglyandhadstudiedtoomuch’.
‘HowdaretheythinkIwouldgiveManishtosuchawitch?’Buajihadsaidoncetheyleftthisgirl’shouse.
Butwithintwenty-fourhours,Buajichangedhertuneandseemedtobesmittenwiththegirlshehadfoundtobeamonstrosity.Thiswasbecausesomerumourshadreachedherears.Therewastalkofhowthegirlhadrunaway,gottenmarried,butthemanhadleftherwithintwomonthsandshehadreturnedtohermother’shousewithbruisesontheface,afracturedhandandashatteredheart.
‘Herparentswilldoeverythingtogetthismarriagetohappen.Wecanaskforanything,’shewouldhavesaidinherconspiratorialtonetoFufajiandDadaji.
‘WhataboutManish?Hewillsayyes?’Fufajiwouldhaveasked.
‘Leavethattome.IwillhandleBhaiya,’Buajiwouldhavesaid.
AndIimaginethatDadajiwouldhavekeptquiet,knowingBuajiwasthemorediscerningone.
Ihaven’tbeenabletogethisgorgeous,face,hiswords,hispainedeyes,hisgravellyandyetsoftvoice,andhissupposedhatredformygrandfatherandhisilkoutofmyhead.
IstayawakeandthinkofallthethingsthatcouldhavehappenedtoRaghuGangulyforhimtosaywhathehad,andthatpointedinoneandonlyonedirection.HehadbeeninlovewithaMuslimgirlandthattherelationshiphadfallenapart—asitusuallyhappens—
-
becauseoftheirreligions.Likeanyself-respectingsleuth,Iaskedaroundtocheckifmystoryheld.
4September2002
Afteralongtime,DivyaDihassnaggedsomeprintcatalogueworkandshehasbeenworkingonitforthepastfewdays.Buajiandtheothershaveturneduptheirnosesmorethanonce,butthemoneyshewillbringinwillhelpthehousehold,andsotheyhaven’tdoneanythingdrastic.SoIhadtoheadoutalonewhenIgotthenewsthatSumitraBaliofRajpurRoadwasontheshortlistforManishChachu.Sheneededtobesaved.
IsawSumitraBaliatPaltanBazaarbuyingicecreambricks.Weretheyexpectingvisitors?OrweretheyaswealthyasFufajiandBuajihopedtheywereandwerehavingicecreameveryday?
ShewasfarfromhowBuajihaddescribedher.‘Ugly’wasthelastwordIwoulduseforher.‘Powerful’,‘decisive’and‘strong’cametomyheadinstantly.Tallandstraightlikeanarrow,shestoodoutfromtheothersinthebazaar.Inasariwithnotasinglepleatoutofplace,herchinup,shouldersexudingconfidence,andherstrideslongandpurposeful,shelookedlikeshehadsteppedstraightoutofaworld-changingboardmeeting.
ShewassurprisedtofindmesittingonherScooty.Shecouldn’tplacemeatfirst.Whenshedid,herdemeanourchanged—shouldersdrooping,eyesdowncast,apolitesmilepastedonherface.
‘Youcan’tgetmarriedtomyChachu,’Isaid.‘Gohomeandtellyourparentsthatthiscan’thappen.Makeupanyexcuse,OK?’
Icouldunderstandtheshockonherface,soIhadtoexplain.
‘Youknow,weVaidsareveryproudofthewaywelook.Weareallfair,tall,andstrong-boned.PuccaAryans,exceptourmother,ofcourse.Butyou…Iknowyou’reaBrahmintoobutyou’rewhatwecallshit-faced.YouarebrownandIwouldn’twantmylittlebrothersandsisterstobedarkandunappealinglikeyou.Areyougettingmypoint?
-
ManishChachuhimselfhadwantedtosaythis,buthesentme.GohomeanddowhatIjusttoldyouto.Wecan’thaveanotherpersonlookinglikeyouinourhouse.Or—’
‘Or?’
‘Letmejustsayyourpresenceatourhousewouldn’tbetakenkindly.Andgivenyourhistory,Idon’tseeyourparentsjumpingtoyourrescueeither.Orwouldyouratherbechasedawayfromanotherhouse?’
Sumitra,unfazedbymythreats,said,‘Whatwillyoudotomethathasn’talreadybeendonebefore?’
‘Youhavenoidea,’Istumbledandstuttered,myplanofscaringheroffcrumblingtopieces.
‘YourChachuwillrapeme?’
‘I…’
‘Oryourbuajiwillaskformoney?’
‘Sumitra…’
‘OrFufajiandDadajiwillscaldmewiththeteaImakeforthem?’shesaid,herlipsquiveringinanger,theicecreaminherhandsslowlymelting.
‘Umm—’
‘Why?Don’tyouhaveanyotherthreatstomake?’
‘Ihaven’tevenstarted!’Iprotested,stilltryingtosticktotheplantoscareherawayfromthehorrendoustrapshewasabouttofindherselfin.
‘Thenwhyareyoudoingthis,Advaita?’sheasked.
‘Look—’
‘Iamnotscaredofyou,Advaita.You’reachild.’
‘I’mnotachild!’Isnapped.
‘Youwanticecream?’sheasked.
-
‘No!’
‘You’resocute,Advaita.’
OfcourseIwantedsome.
Sumitrawasalreadysittingnexttome,slippingthepapercoverofftheicecream.Thenshescoopeditwithaplasticspoon,hadsomeofitherselfandthenofferedittome.Iateitbegrudgingly,decidingnottoenjoyittoomuch.
‘It’snice,right?’sheaskedasIsavouredit.‘Youwantmore?’
Idid,andsoInodded,andshegavemethebrickandthespoon.Shehadseenrightthroughmycharade,myemptythreats.
‘YourChachuisaniceman.Icanseethat,’saidSumitra.‘YourbuajiandFufajiaredevils,butIdon’tseehowtheycanbeworsethanmyownparents.’
‘But—’
‘IknowwhatIamgettinginto,Advaita.’
‘I’msorryforwhatIsaid.You’rereallybeautiful.’
Sumitrasmiledformysake.I’msuremywordsmeantnothingtoher.Overtheyearsshewouldhaveheardtoomanytimesfromtoomanypeoplethatshe’sdark,saanwli,poor-looking.Itbumpeduselesslyagainstherthickskin.
‘Don’tsayIdidn’twarnyou.’
‘Thankyouforthat,’shesaid.
‘Howbadhasyourlifebeentothinkofmyfamilyasanescapeplan?’
‘That’swhatyourChachualsosaid.Butallmiseryisrelative,isn’tit?Can’tlosehope,canI?’
Webothlaughedathermisfortune.Later,sheletmedriveherScooty.She’sanicegirl.
Ilikeher.Ivowedtoprotecther.
ShedroppedmebacktoPaltanBazaar,andbeforesheleft,shethankedme
-
fordescribingherasbeautiful.
‘Ibelieveyou,’shesaid,smiling,herperfect,pearl-liketeethgleaming.ThenshecalledmejustasIwasleaving,‘Hey?’
‘Haan?’
‘DoesyoursisterknowaboutyourChachuandme?’sheasked,hervoiceglum.
‘Why?’
‘Sheusedtobemybestfriendincollege,’shesaid.
It’sstrangethatIhaveneverheardhernamefromDivyaDi.
DivyaDilookedlikeshehadseenaghostwhenItoldherwhomBuajihadpickedforManishChachu.Herentirebodyshookwithanger,andshepacedaroundtheroomasiflookingforsomethingtopunch.Itlookedlikeshewouldhaveaseizure.
‘WHYTHEHELLDIDNOONETELLMETHISBEFORE!’
‘WhoisSumitra—’
‘THATGIRLISABITCH!SHE’SALYING,CHEATINGWHORE!’
‘Di?Calmdown—’
‘Don’tyoudaretellmetocalmdown.ThatwomanwasmybestfriendandwasfuckingVibhor!Shewasmyfriend,helpingmepickgiftsforVibhorandfuckinghim!’Angrytearsfloodedhereyes.
Shecontinued,‘ShehadthegalltokeepintouchwithhimevenwhenMeghnaddrovehimawayfromthetown.Sheelopedayearlater.’
‘VibhorGuptawasn’tagoodguy,Di.’
‘Youdon’tknowhim,Advaita.WHOKNOWS,SHEMIGHTHAVEFUCKED
EVERYMANINDELHI!’
-
‘LookatwhathedidtoSumitra.ThewayIseeit,yousavedyourselfalifetimeofpain.’
‘Youwon’tgetit.Thatwomanistheabsoluteworst.Ifshecomestothishouse,Iwillpunchherintheface!’shesaidandstormedoff.
Frankly,Idon’twanttogetit.IfDivyaDiandtheboy(ifwhatbrokehimwaslove)arewhatyoubecomewhenyoufallinlove,Idon’twanttofeelit.Whyinvestsomuchinanemotionwhenallitgivesyouisunbridledpain?Thereareenoughmiseriesintheworld,whyaddanotherone?
6September2002
Weallhearditfromourhouse.
Bythetimewe,alongwithourneighboursreachedtheaccidentsite,therewerethirty-oddpeoplelookingon,shocked,andfrozenintheirplaces.Blood,fireandthestenchofburntfleshfilledtheair.KaranBhaiyawasthefirstamongustobreakthroughtheranksandrushtowherethetoppledbusburnt.Screamsthatbarelysoundedhumanfilledtheair.
Amidstallthis,IheardRaghu’sunmistakablevoice—deep,huskyandauthoritative.
DivyaDiandIjostledourwaytothefront.Threeambulancesscreechedtoahaltinfrontofus.Raghu,coveredinblood,KaranBhaiya,AnshumanBhaiyaandothermenextractedonepersonafteranotherfromthemangledbuswhichhadcollidedhead-onwithatruck.
Theyloadedpeopleintoambulances.Moremenandwomenjoinedintherescueoperationsaftertheygotoverthebloodandgutsthathadspilledontheroads.Thosewhowatchedfromthesidewerecryingtoo,perhapsimaginingthemortalityoftheirownselves.
IsawRaghupacingaround,holdinghishead,crying,bawling,trembling.Andtheninaflashheran,jumpedovertheroaddividerintothemovingtraffic,andstoodinthemiddleoftheroadwavingdowncars,pointingtotheaccidentonoursideoftheroad.Afewcarsswervedaway,narrowlymissing
-
him,notsparingthedyingalooklesttheyhavetolivewiththeguiltofnotstoppingfortherestoftheirlives.Raghupickeduparockandthrewitatacarwhichhadbeentryingtosteerclearofhim.Amanandawomansteppedout,shoutingcurses.Raghupunchedtheman,andpushedthewomanaway,andchargedtotheircar.Thenhedrovethecaroverthedividerandtowardswherethedyinglay.
‘Everyone!Inside!’heshouted.
Peopleswungintoaction.Theinjuredwerepushedupinsidetilltherewasnomorespacetospare.
‘Advaita!Don’t!’shoutedDivyaDi.
‘Iknowtheshortcuts!’IscreamedasIrantowardsthecar.
AsRaghustartedtodriveaway,musclememoryfromyearsofcatchingbuseskickedin,andIopenedthedoorandjumpedin.
‘Holdon.’Hesteppedontheaccelerator.
‘Lookatme,’Isaidtohim.
Forthenextfifteenminutes,Iguidedhimthroughthenarrowalleyways,theshortcutsofParkRoadandTurnerRoadandClementTown,andwereachedthehospitalbeforetheotherambulancesthathadlefttheaccidentscene.Thewardboyscamerunningtousassoonasheslammedthebrakes.
Raghustoodthereasthewardboysgottowork.Hewatchedtillthelastpersonwasunloadedontoastretcher,limbsfloppingarounduselessly.Hestaredunblinkinglyatthesplotchesandpoolsofbloodwhereoncethebodieslay,hisboyisheyespoolsoftears,hishandstremblingbyhisside.Helookedbroken.Lost.Defeated.
‘Weneedtoleave,’Isaidwhenthelastofthebodiesweretakenaway.
Heturnedtowardsme,eyesbloodshotandlipsquivering.Hemovedhismouth,butthewordswouldn’tcome.Littlerivuletsoftearsstreameddownhischeeksashepointedtothebloodymess.
‘Brah…Brahm…’Hestuttered.
-
‘TheywillbeOK.’
Heturnedaway,irrevocablywrecked.Heslumpe