The Green Room & Devi Collection

by Nag Mani

  “They all are.”

  “He will never use me.”

  “They all say.”

  “He hasn’t even touched me.”

  “You might not have given him a chance.”

  There was a pause. “He is a good man. I know him.”

  “He must be a good boy, if you say so. But what you are doing is not right. What if your mother finds out?”

  Another pause. Then Zeenat’s eyes began to sparkle as she spoke, “I want to marry him.”

  So, this was it. She wanted to marry him. No wonder she had been thinking, then dreaming, then living her dreams of her happy days married to him. Bhagvati served them their drinks, then went out to the backyard with more glasses.

  “He is still in school, Zeenat…”

  “In five months he will be out.”

  “What does his father do?” Zeenat remained silent. Aditi asked again.

  “He is a fisherman.”

  “And what does this boy plan to do?”

  Another period of silence.

  “You know your father will never agree to it. They won’t be able to provide anything that you take for granted here.”

  “I don’t need anything as long as I am with him.”

  “Where will you stay once you get married?”

  “I can sleep on the road if I get married to him.”

  Zeenat was crying now. These youngsters and their fickle minds! Aditi knew it was just a temporary infatuation, nothing more, but it was taking its toll on her studies. And she also knew the more she tried to reason with her, the more Zeenat would distance herself from her. Everyone appears as an enemy to young love-birds.

  “Okay, Zeenat. I understand you. In a way you are right. You are fighting for what you love, no matter what others say. I completely understand you. Say what, I talk to your mother about him?”

  “No, please, Aunty. Don’t…”

  “What do you want, your mother to marry you to someone else? I will tell her what a good couple you two will make. I know you, Zeenat, and your choice cannot be wrong.”

  “Will you, Aunty?” There was a spark in her eyes.

  “Yes, why not! I will convince her, don’t worry. But I have to know more about this boy…”

  “Rashid. Rashid is his name.”

  “And what does he plan to do after school?”

  “Join his father, maybe…”

  “Okay. Good enough. Two meals a day and a good night’s sleep. What else do you need? Happiness is far more satisfying than money. You should see these rich in cities… too much money, but never at peace. He has a house, hasn’t he? I mean, his father?”

  “Yes,” Zeenat was now blurting with excitement.

  “How big is it?”

  “Two rooms.”

  “One for you two and one for his parents. That is good, that is good. You can easily manage in one room. But what when you have kids? I mean you will need more rooms then… you are planning to have kids, right?” Zeenat blushed. A nod. Aditi continued, “At least two children, I suppose. They can stay in one room, with their mother. What can be a better place than a mother’s lap? And when they are all grown they can sleep on the floor.” Aditi saw the spark diminish. “Then there is schooling. Then books and clothes. But his father earns enough, doesn’t he? You can ask him to take care of them. And what if they get sick? There are no hospitals here. Where will you take them? Purnia? Rashid can always ask his father for money, can’t he?”

  Aditi smiled to herself as Zeenat hung her head. She gave her a few moments to let the facts sink in – that life was more than just love. “You yourself can do a job, Zeenat. Not the menial kind of job, but in offices, like in cities. Look at Sir. We have our own house… garden. Roses your sister is so fond of. You can have them all. You can live with him. The two of you, together and happy. And you don’t have to rely on his father, or anyone for the matter of fact. Rashid can continue his fish business and you can work in your office. But then, it’s easily said than done…”

  “I will do it!” Zeenat said out loudly. There was a strange determination on her face. “I will do it. I will become an officer. A big officer. Then I won’t live here. I will take him with me to the city. He and his parents.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t think you have what it takes to do it.”

  “I will! I will show you!”

  “Then stop wasting time and fooling around in school. Study. You have the entire life to be with him. And what can your mother do once you are all grown up and have your own job? No one can stop you from marrying whoever you want…”

  “Rashid. No one else,” Zeenat interrupted.

  “Study, Zeenat. That is all I have to say.” She paused before adding, “You are doing it for him.”

  Zeenat was hopping with excitement when the girls left, telling her sisters about the conversation she had with Aditi. “I will become an officer,” she announced, wiping off her smeared kajal, as she pranced back to her house. Thunderous clouds were coming in from south, promising rain as had never been seen before.

  She had not taken more than a dozen steps when something held her wrist.

  Something with long, cold fingers.

  She jumped around… only to find no one there. Flabbergasted, she turned around, rubbing her wrist, and ran to catch up with her sisters.

  She didn’t notice the black finger marks that had appeared on her fair wrist.

  Neither did anyone else.

  CHAPTER 12

  THE PRICE

  When This-Boy appeared before Aditi during the first year of her college, she failed to recognise him. His section had been changed when they were in Standard 1. She didn’t bother to remember or recognise him after that. So when he stepped in front of her during a college event and bared his pearly teeth, she stepped back in fright and was about to scream for help. Young men from other colleges often visited the Bhagalpur Women’s College for various academic events. They would stay in their groups, talk in hushed voices and throw longing glances at girls and young lady teachers. The more adventurous ones would try to talk to contestants and other girls of the women’s college. But that was a risk only a few dared to take, for if caught, the matter would be reported to their parents and they would be barred from future events or expelled.

  Aditi was least mindful of the rules and regulations. No one seemed interested in her. She roamed the campus freely with her books and registers clutched over her chest. She had never expected that someone would risk getting expelled for her. Controlling her impulse to run away from the lanky boy standing in front her, Aditi had managed to maintain her composure during the formal conversation. Blushing and with warm cheeks, she had marched straight off to home after the boy took his leave.

  They met again a month or so later. And a week after that. And then again. And again. And before she knew, she started liking his company. He was the only person she had met who was a match for her intelligence, maybe even superior. They talked about their subjects and their careers. He too aspired to become an IAS officer. And before long, their discussions transformed from studies into personal matters. He was poor, but learned, and lived in the Dalit jhuggis along the banks of the Ganga.

  She admired him. His soft, girlish face. His long eye-lashes. His dense, curly hair. His confidence. She fell in love with roses when he took her to a nursery. He needed to buy some pesticides. And there, right in front of a large, richly constructed visitors’ hut, was a small lawn with a variety of colourful roses. She was mesmerized by the one in the centre. Deep red. Velvety texture.

  One day, when he told her to come to his house, she became nervous. She was reluctant. But he insisted. She left her house saying that she was going to a friend’s place and took a rickshaw to the ghats. Large boats and steamers were ferrying men and women across the river. A bridge was under construction. They said it would be one of the longest bridges in India once it was finished, running over the water for 4.7 kilometres and connecting Bhagalpur with the
districts in the north. It would be known as the Vikramshila Setu.

  He didn’t take her to his house. There was a piece of unused land behind the huts and across it, hidden from view by a cluster of trees, was a small hillock overlooking the Ganga. He led her all the way to the top. There lay a rose plant with one deep red flower, its roots covered in mud in the shape of a water drop and tied with straws. Together they dug a hole and lowered it inside. It was a symbol of their friendship, he said. And like their relationship, it would grow and blossom. She was worried that some stray animal might damage the plant, so they constructed a small fence around it. They promised that they would tell no one about the plant – for it was their secret and theirs to guard – and water it no matter what befell their lives.

  “Remember this place, Sonjuhi, we will meet here once a year, no matter where we are, no matter who we are.” He settled his old, worn out shirt and put his hands in his pockets as he admired the scenery. Aditi noticed that his shirt was torn. He saw her, and she quickly looked away. He smiled, his head held high. It’s only temporary, said his sparkling eyes, good things are yet to come.

  She held his little finger and followed him down the hillock.

  A cold breeze came in through the window and Aditi wanted to be next to it and not suffer the stench of sweat lying next to her husband. Just lying, that was all. It hadn’t been the same in the initial days, at least for her. She wanted him to not only to accept her, but also cherish her. She might not have known much, but she was willing to keep him happy and wanting more. He would enter the room looking tired and pretended to go to sleep, killing all the hope and excitement she had in store, then creep over her at night. The sessions were never long, at the end of which he would collapse beside her and go to sleep. Those were the initial days. Then he stopped pretending to go to sleep, he actually did. He would come in, actually tired and lethargic, and lie down beside her. She caressed his hair and massaged his shoulders as he complained about his work and his colleagues. She would listen to it all, hoping it would clear his mind and rejuvenate his body. She almost always managed to do so, for once he had done his talking, he would be snoring. Eventually, she just stopped trying. It could be a coincidence, but it was then that he started taking interest. Unlike a man, a woman’s no carries little weightage. She let him have his way when he felt like and how he felt like, hoping it would only take her one giant step forward towards motherhood.

  Her mind and soul were consumed with chaos when she couldn’t conceive. She blamed it entirely on him. She blamed him for everything wrong that had happened; and it went on till she actually began to believe that everything was his wrong doing. That every misery of her life could be linked to him. She taunted him and fought with him. He eventually agreed to go to a doctor. Turned out, he was all fit and span. It was she who couldn’t conceive. Whatever brittle thread the unborn baby was holding to keep them together snapped in the confinement of the clinic. This time, the loss of interest was mutual.

  A thunder shuddered her core. She turned around to find Manoj still sleeping peacefully. She was just thinking how he managed to sleep in spite of all the discomfort when a lightning cracked open the black sky and illuminated the shimmering maize field. Aditi went to the window and watched the rain. She had managed to encourage Zeenat to study, alright, but what next? How long would that work? Another thunder. The narrow path that led to the main road was submerged under water. The night was nothing but a frightening torrent of water and wind.

  Then all of a sudden, someone banged on the door. Aditi jumped back a step. Manoj sat upright with a gasp. The window to the veranda was shut. She inched towards it, hoping to catch a glimpse through the gaps. She had almost assumed that it might have been some broken branch carried astray by the wind, when it came again.

  Someone was knocking at the door. She was about to pull down the bolt of the window when Manoj sprang from his bed and caught her hand. Quietly, he shook his head.

  “Who is there?” Aditi shouted out, her voice weak and shaking.

  No answer.

  She went to the hall. Bhagvati was sitting on her bed, looking at the door with wide eyes. Bachcha was crouching under the cot, his tail between his legs. He didn’t usually cower. Manoj too came out in the hall, but made no move to open the door.

  The knocking came again. The door bulged with force.

  “Who is there?” Aditi demanded again. She knew the hinges wouldn’t hold the next time the person banged. She rushed to the kitchen and brought back a knife. “Answer me!”

  Nothing happened. She could hear the storm outside. A little water had managed to find its way inside from under the door. She adjusted the knife in one hand and went ahead…

  “Don’t,” whispered Bhagvati. “Don’t open it!”

  “Who is this? In the middle of the night, banging at my door,” Aditi whispered back. “And why can’t he speak?”

  “Don’t open the door,” Bhagvati repeated. “You are only giving it a chance to interfere.”

  “What? We have to find out, don’t we? It could be an emergency…”

  “You will not find anyone there.” Bhagvati rose from her bed and stood next to her. Her hands were shaking.

  They waited… and they waited.

  Nothing happened. Bachcha came out and began to circle them excitedly. Manoj went to the bedroom and lit an incense-stick. When Aditi came inside, she found him muttering silent prayers.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  He didn’t speak until he had finished with his prayers. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, not now…”

  Aditi sat on her bed and realised that she was still holding the knife. It had also dawned upon her by now that no one had come to see them out of urgency, neither were they any robbers, for they wouldn’t have knocked. Was it the Devi? But why would she knock at the house she claimed to be her own? And why now?

  Damn! The cursed house! She put the knife under the mattress. “I am not staying here anymore. I want to go back to Purnia.”

  Manoj didn’t say anything. Aditi knew he couldn’t just abandon his job. He had to make a formal request and that would take time. And even then, he had very bleak chances of being transferred. And as long as he was here, she too was stuck in the village.

  Bhagvati came in and the three of them sat quiet in the dim light. The rain was still lashing outside. They kept their ears strained. An hour passed. And then they heard someone running towards their house, splashing water that had accumulated on the path. Bachcha began to bark.

  “Sir? Sir?” shouted a man. Then there were impatient knocks.

  Aditi rose from her bed.

  “Sir? Are you awake? Sir, please open the door!”

  Bhagvati held her back. “Don’t!”

  “Sir? Please open the door. It’s urgent.”

  Manoj went to the hall, but didn’t dare take another step.

  “No matter what he says,” warned Bhagvati, “don’t open the door. You are just inviting him in.”

  “But it’s a man,” Aditi went to the window and tried to peep through the gaps. There was nothing but darkness beyond.

  “It’s a trick, to lure you there…” Bhagvati clenched her teeth.

  “Sir? Please. Zeenat is sick!”

  Bhagvati stood to stop her, but Aditi was already out in the hall. Bachcha was now at the door, sniffing and barking. She marched to the door and opened it.

  “Madam! Madam! Please come fast.” It was Salman. He was soaked to the skin. “Sir, please come. Zeenat is not well. Please help us.”

  Manoj sighed. Rubbed his eyes. Mumbled something about an umbrella to Bhagvati. But Aditi didn’t have time for all this air of self-importance. She ran out in the rain and up the path, half her shin in water. A young boy met her at Laila’s house and led her to the second floor. She could hear Laila wailing inside a room. Half a dozen children were crowding around the door, peeping inside. Among them was Zoya, tears rolling down her cheeks. “What is happenin
g to…?”

  Aditi rushed into the room but stopped dead when she saw Zeenat lying on the bed.

  The skin around her eyes had turned black. She was gasping for air. Black streaks had sprouted all over her fair skin. Laila was leaning over her, trying to soothe her while she herself was crying. Another woman was placing a piece of soaked cloth over her forehead. Razzak stood by a window, lean and thin, looking more helpless than anyone else present in the room. Zeba was sobbing against a wall.

  “Ammi! Ammi!” Zeenat was screaming, “I don’t want to die.”

  “What happened?” Aditi ran to the bed and checked her temperature. She was burning. “Zeenat? Talk to me! What happened?”

  “Save me, Aunty. Please! I beg you! I don’t want to die!”

  “Nothing is going to happen to you. You will be all right…”

  “But he told me I will die, and then he will take me away. With him…”

  “Who?”

  “He is waiting for me!”

  “He, who?”

  Zeenat pointed towards an empty corner of the room. “He!”

  “There is no one there…” Just as she spoke, Aditi noticed that the black marks were spreading. “We need a doctor!” she said to the room.

  “There is no doctor here…” replied someone.

  “Then take her to a hospital.”

  “Aunty, please. He is coming for me…”

  “No, Zeenat. We are going to take you to a hospital…”

  “The nearest hospital is in Forbesganj,” said Razzak, his voice shaky and uncertain.

  “Then what are you waiting for? Get a damn boat and get her out!”

  “The river is flooded…”

  “Then bloody drown trying!”

  His face hardened. Maybe this was the support he needed, for he immediately ran out of the room, his brothers following him, only to return minutes later. He wrapped Zeenat in a blanket and lifted her.

  “Please Abba, he is coming… he is coming to take me.”

  “No doctor can save her,” whispered Laila, her voice quavering.