The Green Room & Devi Collection

by Nag Mani

“Any problem, Sir?” said one of the men. It was Razzak’s youngest brother, Salman. Ali followed close behind. Another window opened on the first floor.

  “Ah! Nothing! She just thought she saw someone.”

  The man had disappeared in the darkness that enveloped the outskirts of the trees.

  “Don’t go near the trees, Madam!” Salman shouted out. “It’s very late. Not safe.”

  “I saw someone go in there. He was injured or something. I saw him fall.”

  “Don’t go around chasing shadows.”

  “Shadows? I saw someone. Ask your Sir if you don’t believe me.”

  Manoj fidgeted, but didn’t say a word. Another lantern appeared up the path. More men.

  “Go inside, Madam,” Ali said in a calm, reassuring tone. “Rest. If there is someone, we will take care of it. He could have been a wounded thief for all we know. Armed and dangerous.”

  Aditi realised she was indeed creating a scene. She went back to her room and sat on the bed. Indeed, the men could take care of the situation far better than she could. Manoj lingered outside, talking to the men who had gathered outside. When he came in, he immediately shut the window again. Aditi didn’t protest. And she didn’t say a word when he lit an incense-stick and began muttering prayers.

  CHAPTER 6

  THE TEMPLE

  Aditi was chopping vegetables for lunch when she heard an auto-rickshaw stop outside. Manoj came in and informed her that the Mukhiya of the village had invited them for lunch. Cursing, she put the vegetables in water and changed hurriedly.

  It couldn’t be a coincidence, she thought, as the vehicle bounced along the brick-road.

  Laila had paid her a visit that morning. Zoya, her youngest daughter, hopped along.

  “I heard you came out in the fields last night,” Laila had said as she settled herself in the bedroom. Zoya observed in awe the many books piled carelessly on the table. “It’s not safe, Madam. You should stay…”

  “I saw someone come out of the field.”

  “Ah, Madam, these thugs, why should you go chasing them? My husband tells me…”

  “Not a thug! It was… never mind. I heard someone died two days ago?”

  “Madam, you want tea, do you? I have a headache. Zoya? You girl, stop nosing around. Go home and make us some tea.”

  “Why are you troubling the little girl? Come along to the kitchen. I will put some milk to boil.”

  “Oh, Madam, you don’t know these little brats. Just playing and eating all day. You stay here. Go girl. Go to the kitchen and make two cups of tea.”

  “Sugar and tea are on the shelf. There is a little milk in…” Zoya had already pranced out of the room. “Call me if you can’t find something,” Aditi shouted after her.

  “You have lots of books out here. Do you teach?”

  “No. I… err… I am preparing for some exam. But where is the time? I mean…”

  “Yes. This is a new era, Madam. The world is changing. Otherwise when have you seen women working? I hear women in cities even drive cars! What courage it must take! Can you drive, Madam?”

  “No, I…”

  “But you can easily learn. I know it! I know what people are capable of the moment I see them. And I see it in you.”

  “Thank you. I surely do want to learn to drive. But tell me, Laila, who was the man who died recently?”

  Laila paused for a brief second. “I will tell you what Madam, there are some things beyond our understanding. And we should leave them to it. They leave us alone. And so should we. Do not go meddling with something you do not understand.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You are a guest here, Madam. There is a reason we call you our guest. You don’t know things, so your faults can be overlooked. You are not aware of our customs and beliefs. We don’t want to tell you either, for if we do, then you too will be bound by them. But let me tell you these two things,” she leaned forward and held Aditi’s hands. “Those trees out there. Don’t go near them. And never meddle with anyone – by anyone, I mean anyone – going in or coming out.”

  “Why? What is there in the forest?”

  “We just don’t go there, Madam. There are some customs we villagers follow. It’s for our own safety. Like the red rose! I am sorry I had to do that, but you must understand Madam, you just can’t grow red roses here.”

  “I love them,” Aditi exclaimed. “I have a whole garden…”

  “Really!” Zoya burst in through the door. “Can I see them, Aunty? When you go to Purnia… can I come with you?”

  “You, girl!” Laila grabbed her hand and pulled her. “What have I told you about eavesdropping?”

  “I wasn’t spying,” Zoya replied in a hurt tone. “I was boiling milk. I put in tea and sugar and I was waiting for the tea to swell. Then I heard about Aunty’s roses so I ran in before you changed the topic. Do you know Ammi, you change topics very quickly? Like you did when Aunty asked about the uncle who died day before yesterday.”

  “You stupid girl! Can’t keep your mouth shut…” Laila gritted her teeth.

  A smile spread on Aditi’s face. There was this girl. Still naïve and innocent. Life hadn’t caught up with her yet. “Come here, Zoya,” she pulled her closer and cupped her face. Zoya grinned, revealing her rough, milky teeth. “Yes, I will show you my garden. It has the most beautiful roses you will ever see!”

  “Can I pluck them and wear them in my hair?”

  “Of course, you can, you sweet little girl!”

  “And can I…” she stopped, suddenly attentive, listening. “Oh! My tea!” Like lightning, she broke free and speared through the door.

  “That girl, I tell you…” Laila sighed. “Tell me Madam, what should I do with her? No manners. No sense. Her sisters are much more sensible, they are. Zeenat takes care of the entire household. You know. Cleaning. Cooking. Stitching. Embroidery. You should taste the kheer she makes! I am least worried about her. She will make a good wife. Her life is settled. But this little rogue! One taste of the tea she makes and you will know Madam. Which silly man would want a wife like that? I am worried, Madam. She is a kid now, but when she grows up…”

  “That’s right, Laila, she is just a kid right now. Let her grow up. I am sure she will mature.”

  “But she has to learn Madam, learn at least something. I keep telling her to watch her sisters cook. Learn something from them…”

  “Why don’t you send her here? I can teach her.”

  Laila took a moment to comprehend. “Teach her what, Madam?”

  “She goes to school, right?”

  “Yes, yes. We have enrolled her. But the school is on the other side of the village. And it’s very irregular. Plus, she is a girl. So, the headmaster said he would pass her in the exams. Give her clean mark-sheets. You know, for the record. No trouble. Nice man, I tell you he is. Very understanding. He said she should stay at home and learn the actual lessons. That’s what’s going to help her in future, you know. I mean, what’s the point of studying all those subjects they teach in school when all she has to do is stay at home and take care of her house?”

  “Whatever you say. But anyway, I can teach her. Who knows, she might grow up to be an officer.”

  “What are you saying Madam? She, an officer?

  “That’s how officers are made. By studying the subjects they teach in school.”

  “Like Sir…”

  “Yes. Like Sir. Maybe more. And why only her, you can send all three of them!”

  “Oho, Madam! Let it go. Why waste your time? These girls will just fry your brains dry!”

  “No, I would love to teach them. And see it this way, I get all bored in here, entire day. I no longer go to the bank. Now I will have three girls to teach. And after their lessons they can help me with cooking or something. And like you said, Zoya doesn’t do anything productive anyway. What’s the harm in giving it a try?”

  Just then Zoya entered the room with two cups balanced on a plate. She was beam
ing, looking down, trying to hide her expression.

  “Yes. She can help you with your work. Yes… yes… and what’s the harm in a few lessons. Yes. You think about it Madam, if you think it’s not much of a trouble, I will send them to you tomorrow. And give them each some work to do after you have finished. And if anyone misbehaves,” she looked sternly at Zoya, “let me know, and I will tie their limbs and throw them in the river.”

  “You can send them in the afternoon. After lunch. I should be free by then. And tell me about the second thing.”

  “Second what?”

  “You were telling me something about the village.” Aditi lifted her cup to her lips and blew.

  “Ah that! Just tea, Madam? You, girl, go get Aunty some biscuits.”

  Laila waited for her daughter to leave. Then hunched forward. Lowered her voice. “My husband told Sir the same thing. And I am telling you now. You should visit that temple.”

  “Which temple?”

  “The Devi’s temple. It’s on the other side of the village. Near Mukhiya Ji’s house. It won’t be long before he calls for you, our Mukhiya Ji,” she paused. She seemed hesitant. Then she said it, “Bow your head and come back. Nothing more.”

  The path was all mud and dirt. Aditi covered her nose with her aanchal. Her husband peered out as fields and lone houses rushed by. The mango trees now formed an indistinguishable line on the horizon to their right. The sky was clear, a monotonous expanse of blue with the sun casting short shadows towards east. The road curved around a thicket of bamboos and a small settlement unravelled itself. An assortment of concrete and mud buildings on either side of an asphalt road. A big store house overflowing with corn-ears. Men operating chopping machines. Women feeding in fodder. Naked children prancing and running. Dirty buffaloes lazily chewing cud, froth dripping from their mouths. The smell of smoke and burning corn.

  They left the settlement behind and followed the road. Five minutes later, a huge peepal tree came in view. Hundreds of pieces of red and yellow thread had been tied to its massively wide trunk. On a circular cement platform that had been built around it, rested small idols of various gods, each shrouded with flowers and garlands and incense-sticks. Further off the road was a gate to a brightly coloured temple. Bells were ringing continually somewhere inside the shrine. A busy market thrived around the premise. Garlands. Flowers. Sweets. Cheap cosmetics. Candies. Plastic toys…

  The driver didn’t stop.

  “Shouldn’t we visit the temple first?” Aditi asked.

  “Temple? Yes, we can come here after lunch,” Manoj replied.

  Aditi bit her lips and looked away, irritated. He and his secret plans. It was bloody evident that he had brought her here to visit the temple, and yet he acted as if it had never even crossed his mind. Six years into the marriage and she still couldn’t understand why he did that – keeping her in the dark even though it was clear what his intentions were. Maybe it gave him a sense of pride, taking the lead, making the decisions…

  The Mukhiya’s house was further down the road. A two-storey square building with a veranda on the ground floor and a balcony on the first. Lots of pillars. Lots of windows. The boundary-wall was not more than four feet high. A pair of concrete pillars erupted from the ground to hold a set of ten feet high iron gates. Aditi couldn’t help but smile – what was the purpose of those mighty gates when even a child could see beyond the wall or hop over. The front courtyard was a wide expanse of mud covered with layers of cow-dung and husk. A variety of shrubs and plants blossomed in a circular ring within another ring of colourful seasonal flowers. On the left was a tin-shed with five cows tied to poles, their bells tinkering feebly on their necks. Everything was impeccably clean.

  On the right was a guava tree, its trunk whitewashed with limestone. Beyond it, three Boleros were parked along the wall, music blaring from one of them. A man sat on a jute cot under the tree. Dark-skinned. Curly hair. Massive frame. He eyed her as three men, farmers going by their malnutrition physique, sat on their haunches in front of him, telling him something. Another three muscular men stood behind him, their arms folded, leering at her as she walked across the courtyard.

  Manoj nodded at the man seated on the cot. The swarthy man stood up, folded his hands and gave a quick nod. “He is Mahesh, the Mukhiya’s son,” Manoj informed her. Aditi folded her arms and greeted back. “His younger brother works in some MNC in Bangalore. He too is here, on a holiday. Manish Singh. He is a decent fellow. Away from all this. He came to my bank a week earlier, asking for some loan.” He paused at the portico and had a good look around. “Pretty decent place he has setup, hasn’t he?”

  The Mukhiya was a huge man in his seventies, with a protruding belly and dyed black hair and moustache. He greeted them with folded hands in a white kurta and dhoti. Two heavy gold chains and a gold watch dazzled in the otherwise white attire. They sat in a square inner courtyard surrounded by narrow corridors on each side with many doors leading to dark rooms. Mosaic pillars ran along the corridors, supporting the storey above, which too was constructed in a similar fashion. A group of children looked from the railings above, and every now and then, a woman would take a quick peek and dash away. Aditi noticed electric wires along the walls. This side of the village had power supply, though most of the rooms were dark. She heard the distant puff-puff of a generator and a lone bulb flickered to the tune of the machine.

  “Ah!” the Mukhiya noticed her observing the bulb, “we do have electric supply here. But it is very erratic. Can’t do without a generator. But the cost of diesel! You officers are lucky. You have a bank to pay for it. But enough of us men talking. You have been sitting here all quiet. Let our women also talk.” He looked at his wife, Sumitra Devi, sitting quietly beside him. She was in her late fifties. Grey haired. Fat and wide. The wrinkles on her face and hands made her look much older. “So, Madam,” he continued, “Manager Sahib tells me you are very fond of gardening?”

  “Yes,” Aditi smiled, “I maintain a garden in my campus, back in Purnia.”

  “It must be hard, to leave everything behind…”

  “It was… I didn’t…”

  “What was that hard in leaving it all behind?” Sumitra Devi asked curtly.

  Aditi gaped at her for a moment, unable to register the tone of her voice.

  “Manager Sahib can leave everything behind. He didn’t bat an eye when he did. His house. His comfort. All, so that he could provide for you. I wasn’t born with grey hairs. I have seen years. You have no joy of a child, at the least you can take care of him, cook him good food, clean his clothes, take care of his needs! All you care about is your garden.”

  Aditi was too stunned to speak. She looked at Manoj, but he just hung his head, looking at his shoes, playing the victim. The Mukhiya opened his mouth to speak, but Sumitra Devi had already started again. “And I have heard you are preparing for some sort of exam?”

  Aditi nodded. “It’s just something I always wanted to be.”

  Sumitra Devi didn’t seem to hear her. She turned to her husband. “These city women. Can’t they just leave men to their work? A woman’s place is at her home. Taking care of her husband, her children. And tell me, what will happen to your children while you work in your office? Who will raise them? Who will teach them the tradition we inherit from our parents? Manners? Our generations old culture? These are the kids who later turn out to be criminals. Murders. Rapists. And what not. Are you not happy with what your husband earns? Listen to me, my child, these gold and diamonds are worthless. A woman’s true jewellery is her husband’s happiness. Leave all these preparations and jobs. Take care of your husband. Least you know – and I am telling you because I have seen years come and go – he seeks his happiness somewhere else.”

  “Oh, now leave our Madam alone,” the Mukhiya waved his hand. His wife had opened her mouth to speak, but shut it immediately, and instead, glared at Aditi. “You are done with your lecture? What do you know about the fast lives of cities? You have wasted y
our life in this village here. Why shouldn’t our Madam try for a job? Everything is not just about money. It is about self-respect. Power. Independence. Now go and call Gauri and lay out lunch for our guests!” Sumitra Devi glared at Aditi a moment longer, then stood up and disappeared down one of the corridors. “Madam, please don’t mind that miserable woman. She doesn’t think before speaking. I personally feel you are doing the right thing. Manager Sahib surely supports you too, doesn’t he?”

  “Of course, of course,” Manoj replied immediately, “I have bought her all the books she needs. It was one of the reasons I wasn’t bringing her here in the first place. But what can I say, she…” he gave a quick glance to check if she would let him continue. Aditi just looked away. What was the point of spilling their personal lives all over the village? “…hard times!” Manoj concluded and cleared his throat.

  “What is life but a complex problem we all must keep solving!” the Mukhiya said and rubbed his thighs. “You study, Madam. You study. Make us all proud. But will you remember me if I come to visit your office?”

  “Why not, Mukhiya Ji,” Aditi put on a big smile, “how can I forget you?”

  “And how do you study here? Manager Sahib, have you got her some inverter set?”

  “You sent for me?” a beautiful voice said from somewhere. A woman was standing in the corridor, thin and curvaceous, her aanchal hung over her face. Judging by her arms and waist, she seemed young. And extremely fair.

  “Ah! Yes! Lunch is ready?” A slight nod. “Manager Sahib, why don’t we go upstairs for lunch? And while the food is being laid, Madam can go outside and have a look around.”

  Aditi knew a look around meant a visit to the temple. Nevertheless, she simply sat on her seat and waited for Manoj to unravel his mysterious plan. He cleared his throat. “You should go with her. Take a look around…”

  She clenched her teeth. He still couldn’t tell her straight! “No,” her voice came out louder than she had intended. “I am fine here. I will come with you.”

  Manoj looked at the Mukhiya and let out a snort sort of laugh. Women are so difficult, right? What did the Mukhiya know that she hadn’t been told about the purpose of their visit? For him it was just another city woman throwing her tantrums.