The Co-Wife & other Stories

by Ruth Vanita

  Algu: ‘What’s the use of inviting me? Men will come from many villages.’

  Khala: ‘I have told everyone my troubles. Now it’s up to them to come or not to come.’

  Algu: ‘I don’t mind coming, but I won’t open my mouth.’

  Khala: ‘Why, son?’

  Algu: ‘What can I say? It’s up to me to do as I please. Jumman is an old friend of mine. I can’t spoil my friendship with him.’

  Khala: ‘Beta, will you refrain from telling the truth just for fear of spoiling a friendship?’

  While we are asleep, all the wealth of our knowledge of dharma may be robbed and we may not even be aware of it, but if someone challenges us, we awaken and then no one can rob us. Algu could not answer this question, but the words kept echoing in his heart: ‘Will you refrain from telling the truth just for fear of spoiling a friendship?’

  4

  Towards evening, the panchayat convened under a tree. Sheikh Jumman had spread carpets and prepared the place. He had also arranged for paan, cardamom, pipes and tobacco. He himself sat a little distance away, with Algu Chaudhuri. When anyone arrived for the meeting, he welcomed him with a salaam in a subdued manner. When the sun had set and the birds began their melodious panchayat in the trees, the panchayat began here too.

  Every inch of the carpets was occupied, but most of those present were onlookers. Of the invited gentlemen, only those had come who had a bone to pick with Jumman. A fire was smouldering in one corner. The barber was hastily filling hookahs. It was hard to say whether more smoke arose when people drew on the hookahs or from the smouldering cow dung cakes. Children ran around. Some of them squabbled, while others cried. All this created a din. The village dogs, thinking that a feast was afoot, had collected in large numbers.

  The panches took their places, and then the old aunt pleaded her case.

  ‘Panches, three years ago, I signed over all my property to my nephew Jumman. You know about this, I’m sure. Jumman agreed to provide food and clothing for me. I somehow managed to spend a year with him, very unhappily. But now I can’t bear to weep day and night. I don’t get enough to eat or proper clothes to wear. I’m a helpless widow. I can’t go to court. So you are the only ones to whom I can appeal. I’ll follow whatever path you suggest. If you see any fault in me, punish me. If you see Jumman doing wrong, tell him to mend his ways. Why should he continue to be guilty of causing pain to the helpless? I will abide by whatever the panches decide.’

  Ramdhan Mishra, many of whose tenants had been settled by Jumman in his own village, said, ‘Jumman Miyan, whom do you choose as chief panch? Decide that first. Then you will have to abide by whatever the panch decides.’

  At this moment, Jumman saw that most of the men present were antagonistic to him for one reason or another. Jumman said, ‘The panches’ decision is God’s decision. Let Khala Jaan choose whomever she wants. I have no objection.’

  Khala shouted out, ‘Oh child of God! Why don’t you name the panches? I need to know.’

  Jumman said angrily, ‘Don’t make me open my mouth now. Things are going your way so choose whomever you want as panch.’

  Khala Jaan understood Jumman’s aspersion, and said, ‘Beta, fear God! The panches are no one’s friend and no one’s enemy. Why do you say such things? If you don’t trust anyone else, fine—you do at least acknowledge Algu Chaudhuri? All right, I nominate him as the chief panch.’

  Jumman Sheikh swelled with pleasure within, but he hid his feelings and said, ‘That’s fine—it makes no difference to me whether it’s Ramdhan or Algu.’

  Algu didn’t want to get into this mess. He began to look for a way out. He said, ‘Khala, you know that I am a very close friend of Jumman’s.’

  Khala said in a grave voice, ‘Beta, no one sells his honour for friendship. God resides in the heart of the panch. God speaks through the panches.’

  Algu Chaudhuri took the position of chief panch. Ramdhan Mishra and Jumman’s other antagonists cursed the old woman in their hearts.

  Algu Chaudhuri said, ‘Sheikh Jumman, you and I are old friends. You have helped me in times of need and I have also served you as far as I could, but right now you and old Khala are both equal in my eyes. You may address the panches now and say whatever you want.’

  Jumman was absolutely sure that he had won the day. Algu was merely putting up a show by talking this way. So he calmly said, ‘Panches, three years ago Khala Jaan gave me her property by a deed of gift. I agreed to give her food and clothing. God is my witness that I have never harassed Khala Jaan in any way. I think of her as my mother. It’s my duty to look after her. But sometimes women don’t get along—what can I do about that? Khala Jaan asks me for a monthly allowance. The counsellors know how much the property is worth. I don’t get enough profit from it to be able to afford a monthly allowance. Also, there was no mention of a monthly allowance in the deed of gift; if there had been, I would never have made the mistake of getting into this fix. That’s all I have to say. The rest is up to the panches. They can decide as they like.’

  Algu Chaudhuri often had to deal with court cases. So he knew the way the law works. He began interrogating Jumman. Each question fell on Jumman’s heart like the blow of a hammer. Ramdhan Mishra was thrilled by these questions. Jumman was astounded, wondering what had happened to Algu. Algu had just been sitting with him, chatting affably about all sorts of things. How could he have undergone such a metamorphosis in a moment? Now he seemed to be determined to dig up Jumman by the roots. What hidden grudge did he hold? Would their long friendship count for nothing at all?

  Jumman Sheikh was still mulling over this dilemma when Algu delivered judgment.

  ‘Jumman Sheikh, the panches have considered the matter. They think it is only fair that you give Khala Jaan a monthly allowance. We think that her property definitely yields enough profit for you to be able to do that. That’s it, that’s our decision. If Jumman is not willing to give the allowance, the deed of gift should be considered null and void.’

  Jumman was stunned by the decision. For one’s friend to behave like an enemy and cut one’s throat—what could this be called but the evil of the times? The one he had trusted completely had betrayed him in the hour of need. It is in crises that one tests the truth or falsity of friends. This is the friendship of Kaliyug, the wicked present era. Why would so many disasters befall the country if people were not fraudulent hypocrites? Cholera, plague and other diseases are the punishment for wicked deeds.

  But Ramdhan Mishra and the other panches wholeheartedly praised Algu Chaudhuri’s ethical stance. They said, ‘This is a true panchayat. It separated milk from water. Friendship has its place; but adhering to dharma is much more important. The earth stands on the strength of such truthful people, otherwise it would have sunk to the netherworld long ago.’

  This judgment shook Algu and Jumman’s friendship to the roots. Now they were no more seen chatting. Such an old friendship, strong as a tree, could not stand even one gust of truth. Truly, it was founded on sand.

  Now the intercourse between them was mostly formal. They were much more polite to one another than before. They did meet, but as the sword meets the shield.

  Jumman was inwardly seething at the way his friend had betrayed him. He eagerly awaited an opportunity to take revenge.

  5

  It takes a long time to complete a good work, but this is not true of bad deeds. Jumman quickly got an opportunity to avenge himself. Algu Chaudhuri had bought a fine pair of bullocks from Batesar the previous year. They were beautiful, long-horned bullocks of a good breed. For months, people from neighbouring villages used to come to have a look at them. It so happened that a month after Jumman’s panchayat, one of the bullocks died. Jumman said to his friends, ‘This is the penalty for betrayal. Humans may do as they please, but God sees both good and ill.’ Algu suspected that Jumman had poisoned the bullock. His wife too accused Jumman of causing this death. She said, ‘Jumman did something or other.’ One day, she and Kar
iman got into a huge argument about it. Both ladies set rivers of words flowing. They made good use of figures of speech such as irony, hyperbole, simile and double entendre. Jumman somehow established peace. He scolded his wife, explained things to her, and took her away from the battlefield. Algu, instead of explanations, used the logic of his stick.

  Of what use was the lone bullock now? They searched for a match, but could not find one. So they finally decided to sell him. There was a small-time trader called Samjhu Sahu in the village. He drove an ekka cart, carrying gur and ghee from the village to market, and bringing oil and salt from the market to sell in the village. He thought that with the bullock he would easily be able to make three trips a day. These days, he found it hard to make even one trip. He looked at the bullock, tied him to his cart, got him assessed, bargained for him, and took him home. He promised to pay for him in a month’s time. Algu needed the money, so he didn’t mind selling at a loss.

  Now that Samjhu Sahu had a new bullock he began to make full use of him. He made three or four trips a day. He didn’t bother about feeding or watering the bullock; he focused only on making trips. He’d take the bullock to market and throw some dry hay in front of him. Before the poor creature could rest, he would yoke him up again. The bullock was used to a comfortable life at Algu Chaudhuri’s house. Occasionally, he would pull a cart. He would leap and bound and run for miles. His diet there consisted of clean water, pounded lentils with hay and oilcake, and even ghee sometimes. How different was that comfort from this daylong labour! In a month, he was reduced to skin and bones. His blood seemed to dry up when he saw the ekka. He took each step with difficulty. His bones jutted out, but he was dignified and could not bear to be beaten.

  One day, on his fourth trip, Sahuji loaded up double the normal cargo. The animal, tired from the day’s work, could barely lift his feet. But Sahuji began to whip him. The bullock had no choice but to force himself to move. He ran for a while and wanted to rest for a minute; but Sahuji was anxious to reach soon, so he whipped him cruelly several times. The bullock tried once more, but his strength gave way. He fell to the ground, and this time he did not get up. Sahuji beat him severely, pulled his legs, and pushed the stick into his nostrils, but can a corpse rise? Then Sahuji realized something was wrong. He looked closely at the bullock, untied him, and began to consider how to get the cart home. He yelled and screamed, but village roads, like a child’s eyes, close at dusk. No one was to be seen. There was no village nearby. In anger, he whipped the dead bullock once more and began to curse him, ‘You ill-fated creature! If you had to die couldn’t you die at home? The wretch has to die in the middle of the road! Now who will pull the cart?’

  Sahuji could do nothing but stew in his own juice. He had sold several sacks of gur and several tins of ghee, so he had about two hundred and fifty rupees tied in his waistband. There were also many sacks of salt in the cart, so he couldn’t leave it there. He was forced to lie down in the cart. He decided to stay awake all night. He smoked a pipe, sang, then smoked again. In this way, he kept sleep at bay till midnight. After that, he thought he was staying awake, but at dawn when he awoke and put his hand to his waist, the money was missing! He looked around in perturbation, and found that several canisters of oil had also disappeared! The poor fellow beat his head and threw himself down in grief. He reached home, weeping and wailing. When his wife heard the ill tidings, she first wept, and then began abusing Algu Chaudhuri, ‘The rascal gave us a useless bullock that robbed us of a lifetime’s earnings.’

  Several months passed. Whenever Algu asked for the price of his bullock, Sahu and his wife would both pounce on him like aroused dogs, and pour out venom: ‘Wonderful! Here we have lost a lifetime’s earnings, we have been destroyed, and he wants to be paid! He gave us a dead bullock, and dares ask for its price! He threw dust in our eyes, tied a ruinous bullock to our necks, and thinks we’re complete idiots! We are children of merchants; you’d better go look for fools elsewhere. Go wash your face in a swamp and then come ask for money. At most, take our bullock and use it for two months instead of one. What else do you want?’

  6

  There was no dearth of people who harboured ill will against Chaudhuri. On such occasions, they too would gather and add to Sahuji’s babbling. But it was not easy to wash one’s hands of a hundred and fifty rupees. One day, Algu too lost his temper. Sahuji retreated into the house on the pretext of looking for a stick. His wife took the field in his place. When verbal arguments were about to give way to a physical fight, she went into the house and shut the door. The respectable people of the village collected when they heard the pandemonium. They tried to pacify both sides. They reassured Sahuji and brought him out of his house. They began to advise him to convene a panchayat and accept whatever it decided. Sahuji agreed, as did Algu.

  7

  Preparations for the panchayat began. Both sides began to build their factions. On the third day, the panchayat convened under the same tree. It was the same time of day. The crows were holding their panchayat in the fields. The issue being debated was whether or not they had a right over the crop of peas, and until the question was settled, they considered it necessary to put on record their displeasure at the watchman’s shouts. The assembly of parrots in the tree was discussing what right humans had to call them unkind when they themselves did not hesitate to betray their friends.

  When the panchayat sat down, Ramdhan Mishra said, ‘No need to delay. The panches should be selected. Well, Chaudhuri, whom do you nominate?’

  Algu said humbly, ‘Let Samjhu Sahu choose.’

  Samjhu stood up and said, ‘I choose Jumman Sheikh.’

  When he heard Jumman’s name, Algu’s heart began to pound as if someone had slapped him. Ramdhan was Algu’s friend. He asked, ‘Do you have any objection, Chaudhuri?’

  Chaudhuri said dejectedly, ‘No, why should I object?

  Often, an awareness of our responsibility reforms our narrow thinking and conduct. When we forget our way and get lost, this awareness becomes our reliable guide.

  Sitting in his quiet room, how freely and insolently the newspaper editor attacks the assembly of ministers with his powerful pen, but then he himself happens to join the assembly. As soon as he sets foot in the assembly, how sensitive, how thoughtful, how balanced his writing becomes. This is because of the awareness of responsibility. How wilful and insolent young men are. Parents worry about them. They think the boys will disgrace the family, but as soon as the burden of the family falls on their heads, how peaceable the unsettled, rebellious youths become. This too is the fruit of the awareness of responsibility.

  As soon as Jumman Sheikh assumed the important position of chief panch, he felt his responsibility. He thought, ‘I am seated on the highest seat of justice and dharma right now. Whatever comes out of my mouth is like a divine voice, and my mental agitation should have no place in a divine pronouncement. It would not be right for me to tamper with the truth in the slightest.’

  The panches began to question both parties. For a long time, the two parties argued on their own behalf. All agreed that Samjhu must pay for the bullock. But two members wanted him to get a concession in the price, because he had suffered a loss from the bullock’s death. On the other hand, two members wanted to punish Samjhu in addition to making him pay full price, so that no one would ever again dare be cruel to animals. Finally, Jumman pronounced judgment.

  ‘Algu Chaudhuri and Samjhu Sahu, the panches have considered your case at length. Samjhu must pay the full price for the bullock. When he bought the bullock it was perfectly healthy. Had Samjhu paid for it right then, he could not today ask for his money back. The bullock died only because it was overworked and was not fed properly.’

  Ramdhan Mishra said, ‘Samjhu killed the bullock deliberately, so he should be punished.’

  Jumman said, ‘That is a separate issue. We are not concerned with it.’

  Jhagru Sahu said, ‘Samjhu should get a rebate in the price.’

  J
umman said, ‘That will be as Algu Chaudhuri wishes. If he reduces the price out of the kindness of his heart, it’s up to him.’

  Algu Chaudhuri could not contain himself. He stood up and said loudly, ‘Panch Parmeshwar ki jai! Victory to the panch who is God!’

  Everybody echoed his words from all sides, ‘Panch Parmeshwar ki jai!’

  Everyone was praising Jumman’s ethics: ‘This is called justice! This is not the doing of humans; God resides in the panch. This is God’s greatness! Who can turn falsehood into truth before the panch?’

  In a little while, Jumman came to Algu, embraced him, and said, ‘Brother, ever since you sat on my panchayat, I became your bitter enemy but today I realized that when one sits on the seat of the panch, one is no one’s enemy and no one’s friend. One thinks of nothing but justice. Today, I am convinced that God speaks in the voice of the panch.’

  Algu began to cry. These tears washed away the rancour from both friends’ hearts. The withered creeper of friendship grew green once more.

  A Winter Night

  HALKU CAME INTO THE HOUSE AND SAID TO HIS WIFE, ‘THE moneylender’s man has come. Give him the money we have; let’s get him off our backs.’

  Munni was sweeping. She turned round and said, ‘We have only three rupees. If you pay him, how will we buy a blanket? How will you spend the winter nights in the fields? Tell him we’ll pay at harvest, not now.’

  Halku stood still for a moment, uncertain what to do. Winter was here, and there was no way he could sleep in the field without a blanket. But the moneylender’s man would not listen; he would threaten and abuse them. If he were paid, one disaster would be averted, and Halku could deal with the other, the cold, later. With this thought, he took his heavy body (that belied his name, which meant ‘lightweight’) close to his wife, and said coaxingly, ‘Come on, give it, I have to get out of his clutches for the moment. I’ll think of some other way to get the blanket.’