The Co-Wife & other Stories

by Ruth Vanita

  ‘Shall I toss the mistress, then? She is the one who beats the girl.’

  ‘But it’s forbidden to attack a woman—have you forgotten?’

  ‘You won’t let me do anything at all. Well, shall we break the ropes and run away?’

  ‘All right, I agree, but how to break these stout ropes?’

  ‘There’s a way. First, chew the rope a little. Then it’ll break with one jerk.’

  At night, after the girl had fed them, the two began to chew the ropes, but the ropes were too tough for them. The poor things kept trying and failing.

  Suddenly, the door to the house opened and the girl came out. They lowered their heads and licked her hands. Their tails stood erect. She stroked their foreheads and said, ‘I’ll release you. Run away quietly otherwise these people will kill you. Today they decided to put ropes through your noses.’

  She undid the tether, but the two stood still.

  Moti asked in their language, ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’

  Hira said, ‘If we run away, this poor thing will suffer tomorrow. All of them will suspect her.’

  Suddenly the girl shouted aloud, ‘Uncle’s two bullocks are running away. O father, father! The bullocks are running away. Come quickly!’

  Gaya came out in a fluster, and ran to catch the bullocks. They both sprinted off. He rushed after them. They ran faster. Gaya yelled for help. Then he went back to fetch some fellow villagers. The two friends got a chance to escape. They ran as fast as they could. But they lost their way. They were not on the road by which they had come. They passed through new villages. Then they both stood beside a field and considered what they should do.

  Hira said, ‘Looks like we’ve lost our way.’

  ‘You ran off too fast. We should have knocked him down first.’

  ‘What would people have said if we had knocked him down? He may forget his dharma, but why should we abandon ours?’

  The two were mad with hunger. A crop of peas stood in the field. They began to graze, stopping from time to time to listen for approaching footsteps.

  When their stomachs were full, the two felt the joys of freedom; they leapt and bounded with glee. First, they belched. Then, they locked horns and began to push one another. Moti pushed Hira back several steps, and he fell into the ditch. Hira warmed up. He rose, and tangled with Moti again. Moti saw that the game might become a fight, so he withdrew.

  3

  Oh my, what was this? A bull was walking along, bellowing loudly. Yes, it was a bull all right. He was coming their way. The two friends looked around for a way to escape. The bull was large as an elephant. To tangle with him would cost their lives; but there seemed no other way out. He was approaching fast. How terrifying he was!

  Moti said in their silent language, ‘We’re trapped! Will we get out alive? Any ideas?’

  Hira answered anxiously, ‘He’s lost in his own arrogance; he won’t listen to pleas or requests.’

  ‘Let’s run away.’

  ‘It’s cowardice to run away.’

  ‘Then you stay here and die. I’m off.’

  ‘And if he chases us?’

  ‘Then think up a plan fast!’

  ‘Let’s both attack him at the same time. I’ll run at him from the front and you do so from behind. When he’s attacked from both sides, he’ll run. As soon as he runs towards me, you butt him in the stomach from the side. It’s risky, but there’s no other way.’

  The two friends ran forward, taking their lives in their hands. The bull had no experience of fighting organized foes. He was used to engaging in single combat. As soon as he ran at Hira, Moti chased him. When the bull turned towards Moti, Hira butted him. The bull wanted to throw them down, one by one, but these two were clever. They didn’t give him that opportunity. The infuriated bull decided to make an end of Hira, but Moti ran his horns into his stomach from the side. The bull turned wrathfully to the side, and Hira pierced him with his horns from the other side. Finally, the poor thing ran away, wounded, and the two friends chased him for some distance. The bull fell down, exhausted. After that, they let him be.

  The two friends went ahead, intoxicated by victory.

  Moti said, ‘I felt like finishing him off.’

  Hira objected, ‘One should not attack a fallen foe.’

  ‘That’s all nonsense. One should beat the foe in such a way that he cannot rise again.’

  ‘Think about how to get home now.’

  ‘Let’s eat something, and then think about it.’

  The field of peas still lay before them. Moti went into it. Hira kept trying to stop him, but he would not listen. They had eaten just a few morsels when two men ran up with sticks and trapped the two friends. Hira was at the edge of the field so he got away. Moti was in the middle of the irrigated field. His hooves sank into the swampy earth and he couldn’t run. He was caught. Hira saw his companion in trouble and returned. They would sink or swim together. The watchmen caught him too.

  In the morning, the two friends were locked up in the cattle pound.

  4

  For the first time in their lives, the two friends had the experience of not getting even a straw to eat all day. They just couldn’t understand what kind of master this was. Even Gaya was better than this. There were several buffaloes, goats, horses and donkeys here, but none of them had any fodder. All lay on the ground like corpses. Some had become so weak that they could not stand up. All day, the two friends stood, staring at the gate, but no one came in with fodder. Then the two began to lick the salty clay of the walls, but how could this satisfy them?

  When they were not fed at night either, a flame of revolt sprang up in Hira’s heart. He said to Moti, ‘I can’t bear this any more, Moti!’

  Moti said, his head hanging, ‘I feel as if I’m dying.’

  ‘Come on, let’s break down the wall.’

  ‘I can’t do anything now.’

  ‘What! Is this the strength you were so proud of?’

  ‘My pride is at an end.’

  The wall of the pen was not mortared. Hira was sturdy; when he rammed his sharp horns into the wall and applied force, he made a hole in it. This encouraged him. He began to run at the wall, and each blow brought down more of the clay.

  Just then, the watchman of the pound came with a lantern, to count the animals. When he witnessed Hira’s exploits, he rained several blows on him with a stick and tied him up with a heavy rope.

  Moti, still lying supine, said, ‘All you got was a beating.’

  ‘At least I tried my best.’

  ‘What’s the use of efforts that reinforce your bonds?’

  ‘I’ll never give up trying, however tightly I’m bound.’

  ‘You’ll have to give up your life.’

  ‘I don’t care. One has to die anyway. Just think how many lives would have been saved if the wall had fallen. So many brothers are locked up here. None of them have any energy left. If this continues for a couple more days, all of them will die.’

  ‘Yes, that’s true. All right, I’ll give it a try.’

  Moti rammed his horns at the same place in the wall. Some clay fell, and his courage grew. He put his horns to the wall and began to push as if he were wrestling with a combatant. After two hours’ struggle, a hand’s breadth of the upper part of the wall fell. He pushed again with all his might, and half the wall collapsed.

  As soon as the wall fell, the animals lying around, half-dead, sat up. The three mares fled. The goats followed them. Then the buffaloes too slipped out, but the donkeys remained standing.

  Hira asked, ‘Why don’t you both run away?’

  One donkey replied, ‘What if we are caught?’

  ‘We’re afraid. We’ll stay here.’

  It was past midnight. The two donkeys were still wondering whether or not to flee, but Moti was busy breaking the rope that bound his friend. When he gave up, Hira said, ‘You go, leave me here. Perhaps we’ll meet again some day.’

  Moti said, with tears in h
is eyes, ‘Do you think I’m so selfish, Hira? You and I have been together so long. Today, you are in trouble—do you think I’ll abandon you and part from you?’

  Hira said, ‘You’ll get a terrible beating. Everyone will realize that this is your doing.’

  Moti said with pride, ‘I don’t care if I’m beaten for the same offence that put you in bondage. At least, nine or ten creatures’ lives were saved. All of them will bless us.’

  So saying, Moti butted the two donkeys with his horns, and forced them to leave the pen. Then he came back to his companion, and went to sleep.

  There is no need to narrate what pandemonium there was next morning, among the watchman, the clerk and the other administrators. Suffice it to say that Moti suffered a severe beating and was also tied up with a heavy rope.

  5

  The two friends lay bound there, for a week. No one gave them an ounce of fodder. They were given water once a day. That was all they had to sustain them. The two became so feeble that they could not stand up; they had become skin and bone.

  One day, a drum began to beat in front of the pen, and by afternoon fifty to sixty men had collected. The two friends were taken out and put on display. People came to look at them, but went away. Who would buy such near-dead bullocks?

  Suddenly, a bearded man with red eyes and an extremely callous face came, stuck his fingers into the two friends’ hips, and began to talk to the clerk. When they saw his face, the two friends’ hearts trembled with an inner apprehension. They had no doubts about who he was and why he was assessing them. They looked at one another with fearful eyes and then hung their heads.

  Hira said, ‘We ran away for nothing from Gaya’s house. Now our lives are at an end.’

  Moti said, with disbelief, ‘They say God has compassion for all. Won’t he take pity on us?’

  ‘It’s all the same to God whether we live or die. Well, at least we’ll be with Him for some time. God saved us once in the form of that girl. Won’t he save us now?’

  ‘This man will slaughter us. Wait and see.’

  ‘What of it? Our flesh, skin, horns, bones, all will be of use to someone or other.’

  After the auction, the two friends set out with the bearded man. Both were trembling in every limb. The poor things could barely lift their feet; they somehow ran on, because every time they slowed down, he hit them hard with his stick.

  On the way, they saw a herd of cattle grazing in a green meadow. All of them were healthy, smooth-skinned, energetic; some bounded around and some sat happily chewing the cud. What happy lives they led, but how selfish they were! None of them cared how their two kinsmen were suffering at the hands of a butcher.

  Suddenly, the path began to seem familiar. Yes, this was the way Gaya had taken them. The same fields, orchards and villages appeared. Their pace picked up each moment. Their exhaustion and weakness vanished. Ah! Here was their own village! This was the well to which they used to be taken, to draw water for irrigation. Yes, this was the well.

  Moti said, ‘Our home is nearby.’

  Hira said, ‘It’s God’s grace.’

  ‘I’m going to run home now.’

  ‘Will he let us go?’

  ‘I’ll knock him down.’

  ‘No, no, let’s run to our stable. We won’t go any further.’

  The two ran, excitedly, leaping like calves, towards their home. There was their stable. They ran to the stable and stood still. The bearded man followed them.

  Jhuri was sitting at his door, basking in the sun. He rushed to the bullocks and embraced them, turn by turn. Tears of joy flowed from the friends’ eyes; one was licking Jhuri’s hand.

  The bearded man came up and caught hold of the bullocks’ ropes.

  Jhuri said, ‘These are my bullocks.’

  ‘How can they be yours? I just bought them at an auction at the pound.’

  ‘I think you stole them. Go away quietly. They are my bullocks. They’ll be sold only if I sell them. Who has the right to auction off my bullocks?’

  ‘I’ll lodge a report at the police station.’

  ‘They are my bullocks. The evidence is that they’re standing at my door.’

  Enraged, the bearded fellow came forward to forcibly drag away the bullocks. Moti attacked him with his horns. The bearded man stepped back. Moti pursued him. The bearded man ran. Moti ran after him. When he reached the village boundary, he stopped, but stood there, watching the bearded fellow. The bearded man stood some distance away, threatening, cursing, and throwing stones. Moti stood, blocking his way like a victorious hero. The villagers watched the show and laughed.

  When the bearded man gave up and left, Moti returned, swaggering with pride.

  Hira said, ‘I was afraid you might get angry and kill him.’

  ‘If he had caught hold of me, I wouldn’t have let him get away.’

  ‘He won’t come back.’

  ‘If he does, I’ll take care of him. Let’s see how he dares take us.’

  ‘What if he shoots you?’

  ‘I’ll die, but I won’t be of use to him.’

  ‘No one thinks our life worth anything.’

  ‘Because we are so simple.’

  In a little while, the trough was filled with hay and bran, oilcake and grain, and the two friends began to eat. Jhuri stood by, stroking them, and scores of children gathered to watch the drama. The whole village was excited.

  Just then, the mistress came out and kissed their brows.

  The Price of Milk

  THESE DAYS, MIDWIVES, NURSES AND LADY DOCTORS ARE AVAILABLE in big cities; but in the villages Bhangi women still preside over childbirth, and there seems no hope of this changing in the near future. Babu Maheshnath was the landlord of his village; he was educated, and believed in the need to reform childbirth methods, but how could he prevail over the obstacles in his path? No nurse was willing to go into rural areas, and one who did agree after much persuasion, demanded such a high fee that Babu Saheb had no option but to come away with bowed head. He didn’t dare approach a lady doctor. He would perhaps have to sell half his property to pay her fee. So, when his son was born after three daughters, it was back to Gudar and Gudar’s wife. Children are generally born at night. One day, at midnight, the watchman yelled so loudly at Gudar’s door that all the neighbours woke up. It was not a girl, so he felt no need to lower his voice.

  Preparations for this auspicious occasion had been afoot in Gudar’s house for months. Their only fear was that it might be another girl, in which case all they would get was the same one rupee and a sari! Husband and wife had squabbled many times about this, and placed many wagers. The wife said, ‘I won’t show my face if it isn’t a son this time. All the signs indicate a boy.’ And Gudar said, ‘Wait and see, it will be a girl again, for sure. If it’s a son, I’ll shave off my moustache.’ Perhaps Gudar thought that his saying this would strengthen his wife’s desire for it to be a boy, and clear the way for a boy’s arrival.

  Bhungi said, ‘Shave off your moustache now, bearded fellow! I said it would be a son. But you wouldn’t listen to me. You insisted on your own ideas. I’ll shave your moustache myself, right down to the stubble.’

  ‘Fine, shave it off, good woman!’ said Gudar. ‘Won’t it grow again? In three days, it’ll be just as it was before, but remember, I will take half of whatever you get.’

  Bhungi showed him her thumb, handed him her three-month-old son, and went off with the watchman.

  Gudar called out, ‘Listen! Why are you running off? I also have to go to congratulate them. Who will look after the baby?’

  Bhungi replied from a distance, ‘Put him to sleep on the ground. I’ll come back and nurse him.’

  2

  Bhungi was now served hand and foot at Maheshnath’s house. She got semolina pudding given to nursing mothers in the morning, puris and halwa at noon, and full meals in the afternoon and at night. Bhungi could not nurse her own baby more than once or twice in twenty-four hours. Arrangements were made to giv
e him cow’s milk. Babu Saheb’s fortunate son drank Bhungi’s milk. And this did not end on the twelfth day. The mistress was a plump, well-built lady, but for some reason she had no milk this time. When the three girls were born she had so much milk that the girls got indigestion. But this time there was not a drop. So Bhungi was both midwife and wet nurse.

  The mistress would say, ‘Bhungi, raise my child, and you won’t have to work a stroke the rest of your life; we will feed you. I’ll give you five bighas of land to cultivate for free. Your grandchildren will live in comfort.’

  And Bhungi would say, ‘I’ll take bracelets at the baby’s head-shaving ceremony, I’m warning you.’

  The mistress would reply, ‘Yes, yes, take bracelets—no need to sound threatening. Do you want silver ones or gold ones?’

  ‘Oh my, Bahuji! To whom will I show my face if I wear silver bracelets, and who will be laughed at?’

  ‘Very well, take gold ones, I give you my word.’

  ‘And at his wedding, I’ll take a necklace of gold beads, and bracelets for Chaudhuri (Gudar).’

  ‘Take them, if only God lets us see that day.’

  Bhungi was now second in command only to the mistress. The maids, the cook, the servants, all obeyed her. The mistress herself gave way to her at times. Once, she even rebuked Maheshnath. He laughed it off. The conversation had turned to Bhangis. Maheshnath said, ‘Whatever else changes, Bhangis will remain Bhangis. It’s difficult to make humans of them.’

  At this, Bhungi put in, ‘Sir, it is Bhangis who nurse even great men and mould them into human beings, so why would anyone need to make them human!’

  At any other time, Bhungi would have paid dearly for this insolence. But today Babu Saheb laughed loudly and said, ‘Bhungi always makes a good point!’

  3

  Bhungi’s reign could not last beyond a year. The Brahmans objected to the child continuing to drink a Bhangi woman’s milk, and Moteram Shastri even proposed that penance be performed. The milk was stopped, but the question of penance was laughed off. Maheshnath issued a reproof, ‘Great, Shastriji, now you propose a penance. Until yesterday, he grew by drinking this same Bhangi woman’s blood and now it’s suddenly untouchable. Your religion is wonderful!’