Mountains Painted with Turmeric

by Lil Bahadur Chettri

  The young man stared. That blossoming young body and everything that was on it attracted his heart: the little ring in her nostril and the stud in her shapely nose, the rings on her ears, the coral necklace that hung down from her neck to her breast, the waistband that held a fold of her sari up above her slender waist, the cloth she wore over the back of her head to cover her hair, her fair face.…

  The innocent village girl had just finished washing her hands and feet. As she straightened her back, her eyes met a more forceful gaze. The young man did not even blink. Each was sizing the other up. But how strange! The same look was not in both pairs of eyes. The young man’s showed desire and romance, while in the girl’s there glimmered only simplicity and a kind of attraction that came from her heart. Before long, an expression of natural womanly modesty appeared on the girl’s face, and sweat glistened on her brow. She lowered her eyes, sat down to one side of the spring, and began to wash out the various implements her family used in religious rituals. Still standing right there, the soldier was trying to decide how to speak to her. “How should I address her? It’s not right to call someone ‘Nani’ when she is a grown-up young woman. Shall I call her ‘Bahini’? No, I think I’ll address her without using any name.…”17

  “Hey,” he said, “can I get some water to drink here?”

  “Of course you can, don’t you think there’s enough water? Can’t you see how big the spring is?”

  The girl was busy washing a pot. The youth rinsed out his mouth and then drank from the spring. After he had drunk his fill, he squatted on the bank to rest for a while. He took a cigarette from a packet of Passing Show, lit it, and then blew the smoke out over the girl’s head, where it disappeared. “Where does this path lead?” he asked.

  “I’ve never really been farther than Limbugaon.18 I don’t know where it ends up.”

  “How far would Limbugaon be now?”

  “Oh, still about two kos, I suppose.”19

  “Ay, it’s a long way away. I’m tired out! I don’t think I’ll manage to walk two kos today.”

  The girl became curious. She glanced up at the youth, then looked down again right away.

  “Is that where you’re going?” she asked.

  “Yes, that’s where my home is. I haven’t been there for years. I’ve almost forgotten the way.” After a moment he said, “Your home is here, I suppose?”

  He had addressed her using the politest word for “you,” and the girl blushed.20 A little flustered, she said quietly, “Yes … it’s that house down there.”

  The youth blurted out a question. “If I had to call you by your name, what name would I use?”

  The girl was rather taken aback. She realized that things were going a little too far and was ever so slightly annoyed with the youth for his forwardness. But her anger quickly cooled. “I’ve no idea what you’d call me,” she said rather seriously. “Others call me Jhuma.”

  The soldier understood her attitude and was not bold enough to ask her anything else. Jhuma finished scrubbing and began to rinse the pots in the spring. Without saying anything more, the youth got up and went slowly on his way. Jhuma turned once to look back at him. She could not understand why, but she felt as if her heart was walking away with him.

  6

  The sun had set, but it was not yet completely dark. Jhuma put all the pots into a basket, picked up the filled water jar, and took her leave of the waterfall spring. She was not usually especially happy to see the maize overhanging both sides of the path; most of the time she considered it a nuisance. But today it was as if the plants were sitting beside the path to welcome her, and she saw something special in them. Today she felt as if something novel had touched her life.

  When Jhuma stepped into the courtyard at home her face took on an expression that was a mixture of hope, surprise, and shy pleasure, along with a little tinge of pain. She saw that the same person she had met earlier was seated on a mat he had spread out on her verandah and was talking to her brother, Dhané, who was sitting on a bedstead. She glanced at them and went quickly indoors.

  Dhané was engrossed in their conversation.

  “Oh, so you must be in a government post, is that right?”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s what you must call it. You have to pass the time somehow, you know!”

  “How long is it since you went abroad?”

  “Oh, I’ve been abroad since I was young. I can have been only about fourteen when I left the hills, and now I’ve been in the army for three years. At first I suffered a lot to make ends meet. I herded other people’s cows and buffaloes, I did any work I could. Suddenly I found myself in the army—it was just a matter of luck. Now let’s just say that in a sense I’m really quite comfortably off.”

  “That’s right, once you’ve joined the army, what else do you need to look for? It’s wonderful, isn’t it! And who do you have back here in the hills?”

  “No one at all, really. There’s my dai, the son of my father’s younger brother.21 He will have children by now, I expect.” The soldier stretched out his legs and looked out across the yard. “It’s gotten very dark. I’d better be off.”

  “Ah, we are Chetris, too; we can eat together,” Dhané said casually.22 “Just eat with us and sleep here tonight. Why go to Limbugaon now? It’s too far when night is falling. It would be fine if you set out in the morning.”

  “Yes, you’re right. It’s dark, and I’m tired. Perhaps I should stay till tomorrow.”

  “That’s right. Why hurry? You’ll be home in time for the morning meal!”

  7

  Nowadays all the housework falls on Jhuma’s shoulders. The baby makes many demands on Maina, so she can’t offer to help with many of the domestic chores. She helps her husband’s sister to wash the pots and to mill and pound the grain. Otherwise, all the cooking and serving of food is Jhuma’s responsibility.

  When she had finished preparing the food, Jhuma went and sat beside Maina. “Bhaujyu, the food’s ready.23 Would you serve the meal today?”

  Maina took Jhuma’s chin in her hand and lifted her head so that they looked each other in the eye. “The one who cooks the food should serve it herself. Will you issue orders like this when you are married and you have your own home?” After a moment she said, “Go, my pretty child, give your brother and his guest some water and put the rice on their plates, while I finish plaiting this rope.”

  Jhuma would laugh and joke with her sister-in-law, but she respected and honored her as if she were her mother, and she could not disobey her. She made herself get up and fill the pitcher from the water jar, then went outside. She approached the soldier with the pitcher in her hand, bowing her head as low as she possibly could. The soldier tried to look thirstily into her eyes, but in the dim light that filtered out to the edge of the verandah from the house he could not see her face. He could only see her head, covered with a veil. Jhuma’s heart was pounding away, and she did not try to look at the soldier. She just put the water down next to him and went back indoors.

  Dhané and the soldier washed their hands and feet and came in to sit beside the raised earthen hearth. Jhuma’s head was bowed, and as she pushed a plate of rice in front of the soldier her hand trembled. The lamp in a niche in the wall was burning down. In the gloom Jhuma glanced once at the soldier’s face and found that his eyes were on her, too, so she quickly looked away. Maina rose and turned up the lamp, and the room became bright again.

  After the meal, the stranger went out and lay down on a bed on the verandah. When they had finished their other tasks, Jhuma and Maina went off to the granary store with a basket of maize, and soon the grinding sound of the millstone fell on the recumbent soldier’s ears. The dark night was completely still. The distant insect noise was drowned out by the “gharr, gharr” sound of the millstone as it turned. It sounded as if the earth were taking its final breaths. In the midst of peaceful nature a sweet gentle voice began to sing its own song, a sangini.24 Nature came alive in the song and the atmosp
here completely changed.

  Jhuma sings a sangini, and her voice is thin but sweet. It is an old custom for village women to sing a sangini as they grind grain, and Maina is very fond of it. She is always the one who begins the song, and Jhuma always takes it up behind her. But today, she does not know why, Jhuma is impatient to show off the sweetness of her voice. She waits for ages for her sister-in-law to begin to sing, but then she can wait no longer, and she begins the song herself. This day her voice comes out filled with life; something new fills her throat. Soon Maina joins in, too. The sangini had been smiling with Jhuma’s voice, and now it begins to laugh. That sound truly possesses the power to melt rocks as it issues out into the night in that silent village.

  And the soldier is really only a man, an ordinary man. He had heard sangini songs during his childhood, before he left for Mugalan.25 In Mugalan he had never had a chance to hear a sangini, but today, after so many years, he became reacquainted with his own village song. His ears heard nothing else, and he felt greatly moved. He thought to himself, “I must get up, I must follow the ripples of music that come from that voice, and when I have found their source I must fall at her feet and surrender myself to her.” His heart flew here and there, here and there, with the waves of the sangini, and a strange vision danced before his eyes. At one point he even decided that he would get up and go to Jhuma. But then he considered that there was someone else there with Jhuma and decided that it would not be right to approach her in the night like that. In the end he lay where he was, restraining his emotions. After a long while the singing and the “gharr, gharr” of the millstone both fell still. The soldier covered his face and tried to sleep.

  It was his custom to rise very early, and the next morning he got up and prepared to set out. He bade Dhané farewell and came out into the yard, and there before him, near the door to the granary, stood Jhuma. They looked steadily at each other for a few seconds. Both pairs of eyes were saying: “If we live long enough, we will meet again,” but each was unsure of the other. The stranger went on his way, feeling as if he had left an empty shadow somewhere. Jhuma returned to the house with a heavy heart, feeling as if one of her limbs had been removed.

  8

  Teej had just taken its leave of the women of Nepali society, and now the Sorah Shraddha arrived, a sign that Dasain was near.26 Everyone was assembling the things they needed to celebrate Dasain. In almost every villager’s house the sweet sound of “Jay Devi Bhairavi!” could be heard.27 The herdsmen who gathered at the cowherders’ huts sang the sweet tune of “Malashri” in unison instead of their usual songs.28 Everyone seemed happy at the arrival of Dasain, and why should they not, after all? These are two days during which loads can be laid aside and some rest can be taken, in lives that are oppressed all year round by the burden of daily labor. And the feast also gives people an opportunity to meet close friends and relations they have not seen for years and to shed tears of joy as they are reunited with them.

  Outside, the whole world is enjoying itself. Dhané Basnet takes part in the general cheerfulness, but his smile sits on his lips and spreads no further. Instead, a fierce fire burns in his heart. So far he has managed to pay the old baidar only two months’ interest. Whenever the baidar passes his house on his various comings and goings he stops his horse for a moment and calls, “Oh, Dhané! Why haven’t you kept your word to Hariram? How much does the interest come to now, do you not know? When you took away Hariram’s buffalo you were weeping and wailing with gratitude. But now you don’t even know Hariram! I was out of my mind, why on earth did I give the buffalo to someone like you? If you don’t send Hariram’s interest in a few days’ time, I’ll empty out your cowshed, do you understand?”

  Dhané is infuriated as he listens, but he is helpless—what can he do? He keeps his head bowed and says nothing.

  Meanwhile, there was the problem of Dasain to consider. Everyone had to have a special new set of clothes. There wasn’t a grain of rice, and nothing to eat beside maize.29 These were the many problems that Dhané faced.

  Today Dhané ate hurriedly and left the house at dawn. He did not return until late that night. Maina hurried to give him some water to wash himself with, so that he could eat. When he had eaten, Dhané lay down on his bed. Maina finished her chores and then filled a wooden pot with oil and sat down at his feet. Jhuma was already asleep on her own bed. Gently, Maina began to massage Dhané’s feet; this was virtually a daily task for her. Dhané’s gaze fell on Maina’s simple face, and suddenly happiness flowed into his grieving heart, which filled with a peculiar compassion for her. He thought to himself: “Poor Maina! How hard she works all day, but she doesn’t get even a handful of anything good to eat. She is a mother, but even when she had just given birth there was nothing good to give her. So many feasts have come and gone, but I could never afford to give her a single piece of nice jewelry, except for the nose stud and earrings that were made for her when we married. But even so, how content she is! She always attends to my troubles. She bears the burden of the whole house. It is a matter of fate: karma joined this flower to a poor man like me.”

  He sat up slowly and took hold of one of Maina’s hands as she massaged his feet. In a voice full of pity and love he said, “Oh, that will do, how much longer can you go on doing that? You’re tired, sleep now.”

  Maina had been a little afraid of her husband’s grave manner up to now and had not dared to speak. But when she heard his loving words her face lit up. Slowly, she released her hand from his and said brightly, “Am I doing it because you ordered me to? Should I stop because you say it’s enough or carry on until you do? No, I do this because it pleases me!”

  Dhané smiled along with her. “All right, then, if that’s so, just do as you please. Stay awake all night!”

  After a while, Maina touched Dhané’s feet with her head and stood up. She put the oil pot back in its place and returned to Dhané’s side. She ran her soft hand through his hair and asked him, “Where were you all afternoon? Did you have some work to do in the village?”

  At this his expression become grave again. After a few moments he replied, “Where do you think I went? I went to see if Budhé Kami would give me thirty rupees.30 Fifteen to plug the baidar’s mouth and the other fifteen to get us through this Dasain: that was the idea. But why would the damned blacksmith give it to me? He just kept putting me off all day. Dasain is nearly here, and I’ve not bought clothes for anyone; how are we are going to manage, eh?” He heaved a long sigh as soon as he had finished speaking.

  Maina calmed her husband. “Do you need to worry so much about it? The girl may need fresh clothes, but the rest of us still have last year’s. Goats are fetching a good price in the village, so sell that piebald one. You’ll get twenty rupees for it, won’t you? The white one’s kid will be enough for the household to eat. There’s a market the day after tomorrow; the girl can go with her friends and get a skirt and blouse. She’s dying to go, anyway.”

  “How can I sell a goat from your peva?31 You struggled so hard to rear those two kids, what will we do if we get rid of them, too? I wanted to add to your peva, but that’s come to naught.”

  “My peva? Who do I have to hide it from? I have no sisters-in-law to envy me! I swear it, what does my peva matter, compared to my husband and son?”

  Dhané was choked when he heard Maina say this. Although he was poor in material terms, God had given him this priceless jewel. It was many times better to be a beggar with a life companion like Maina than to be as rich as Kubera32 but have no one to share your sorrows. Unable to suppress his joy, Dhané said, “How hard it is to understand the games the gods play! Although I am poor, the Lord gave me a wife that not even a king could get! I am poor, but I am fortunate to have a wife like you!”

  “That will do, there’s no need to flatter me!” Maina protested.

  Then the child in Maina’s bed grew restless and whimpered in his dreams. Maina got up from Dhané’s bed and laid down beside the child to soothe him b
ack to sleep.

  9

  Today is the day of the Sunday market.33 Ever since the sun came up, women, children, and all the people of the villages have been walking toward the hill on which the market is held. Today, people from as far as a day’s walk away gather to buy and sell on this hill. And the importance of the market for these villagers does not end with trade—this is also a place for catching up with people you have to meet. Many people also come to the market to collect papers and letters brought there for them by others, or to pass on a letter they themselves have brought from some office or other, and for many other such things. The market is held here once every two weeks, and it is a vital thing for the villagers.

  Early this morning, Jhuma bathed at that waterfall spring that we already know. A second young woman arrived, carrying a pitcher on her hip. She looked at Jhuma. “Aayu!” she said. “How can Kanchi Didi34 bear to pour water over herself first thing in the morning? Is your body made of iron?”

  “Oh, it’s you, you mori!35 But you must be here for a bath as well! Are you going to the market?”

  “Well, I might be. But even if I am, who do I have to show myself off to that I should bathe so early? Who have you got at the market to do yourself up for?”

  “We’ll look later on, won’t we, when it’s time to set out! We’ll look to see who’s been making themselves up! We’ll find out then!”

  “Yes, that’s right, didi, we certainly will! Who else is going to the market?”

  “Just you, probably! Who else do I need? If we go in a crowd we’ll never be able to have any fun. Let’s just go on our own, just us two, all right?”

  “Yes, all right! I’ll come to your place. Make sure you get away early.”

  “All right, Thuli. Are you going empty-handed, or are you taking some rice to sell?”

  “Where would I get rice? There’s a pathi of big soybeans, I’m taking that. How about you?”36