A Thousand Yearnings

by Ralph Russell

  ‘It’s true what people say,’ he said.‘You lot aren’t true to anyone. I’d give my life for you, and that’s how you answer me. All right then, call Bua Husaini.’

  I did, and she came in.

  Faiz Ali pointed to me and said, ‘Can she leave Lucknow for some days?’

  ‘To go where?’

  ‘Farrukhabad. I’m no ordinary man. I have my estate there. At present I’m going there for two months. If Khanam agrees, I’ll pay her in advance for the two months—and if she wants more than that I’m ready to give it to her.’

  ‘I’m not at all sure that she’ll agree.’

  ‘Anyway, go and ask her.’

  And Bua Husaini went.

  I knew it was pointless to send her to Khanam. I was quite sure she’d never allow it.

  Faiz Ali had been so good to me that if it had been in my power I wouldn’t have hesitated to go with him. I thought, ‘When he’s treated me like this here in my own home he’ll do even more for me in his own place.’ I was thinking this when Bua Husaini came back. She told him that my going away was absolutely out of the question.

  Faiz Ali said,‘What if I pay double?’

  ‘Not if you pay four times over,’ Bua Husaini said. ‘We won’t let her go.’

  ‘Very well then...’

  Bua Husaini went off and I saw that he was weeping. I felt very sorry for him. When I used to read stories of the fickleness of women towards their lovers I used to feel sorry and think badly of them. And now I thought,‘If I don’t stand by him, that’ll prove beyond doubt that I’m a faithless and ungrateful woman.’

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ I said.

  ‘You will?’

  ‘Yes I will, whether they let me or not.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Without their knowing.’

  ‘All right then. I’ll come the day after tomorrow at night. And we’ll go an hour or two before dawn. Mind you, don’t go back on it, or you’ll regret it.’

  ‘I’m telling you I’m going of my own accord. I’ve promised you and I’ll keep my promise. You’ll see!’

  ‘All right, we’ll see.’

  That night Faiz Ali left me before dawn, even earlier than usual. After he went I began to think hard.‘I’ve promised him, but shall I go, or shan’t I?’ When I thought of his love for me and the promise I had made him I thought I should go. But it was as though I could hear another voice telling me, ‘Don’t go! God knows what may happen to you.’

  I was still in this state of uncertainty when morning came. I couldn’t make up my mind one way or the other, and kept thinking about it all day. As it happened, no one visited me that evening. I was alone in the room with my thoughts. It was late before I went to sleep and I woke up late. All day I felt as if I had a hangover. I quarrelled with Bua Husaini about something or other.

  Oh, now I remember what it was. Someone had asked me to go and perform somewhere. Bua Husaini asked me if I’d go. I had a headache at the time and I flatly refused. Bua Husaini said,‘What a one you are! You’re always refusing! Do you think you can do that in this profession?’ I said,‘I’ve told you. I’m not going.’ Bua Husaini said, ‘You’ll have to. They’ve especially asked for you and Khanam has promised you and taken their money.’ I said, ‘I’m not going. Give them their money back.’

  ‘You know Khanam,’ Bua Husaini said.‘Have you ever known her give money back?’

  ‘No,’ I said.‘She doesn’t care whether you’re well or not. If she won’t return their money, I will.’

  ‘Oh ho! You’re a rich woman now, are you? Come on then, let’s have the money.’

  ‘How much is it?’ I asked.

  ‘A hundred rupees.’

  ‘All right, but stop pestering me.’

  God knows what had got into Bua Husaini that day. She said,‘If you’re such a fine lady, give it to me now.’

  ‘I’ll give it to you this evening,’ I said.

  ‘They’re waiting outside. They won’t agree to wait until evening.’ Bua Husaini was thinking I wouldn’t have that much money, and that if she went on pestering me I’d have to agree to go and perform whether I liked it or not. In my box I must have had not less than a thousand to a thousand five hundred in gold coins, besides all the jewellery. But I couldn’t open it while she was there.

  ‘Go away, I’ll give it to you in an hour’s time.’

  ‘Oh yes! You’ll earn that much from clients in an hour.’

  ‘Yes, I will. Go away, my dear. Don’t bother me now. I’m not feeling well.’

  ‘Why, what’s the matter, girl?’

  ‘I feel as though I’ve got a temperature, and I’ve got a bad headache.’ Bua Husaini felt my forehead.‘Yes,’ she said,‘your body is burning. But you’ll have to go and perform, say, the day after tomorrow. You won’t, God forbid, still be ill then. So why should we return their money?’

  Before I could reply, Bua Husaini got up and went off. This argument with her had made me very angry, and it was then that I decided. I thought to myself, ‘These people think only of themselves. They don’t care whether I’m ill or not; so it’s no good staying here.’ But I couldn’t decide whether to go or not, and until Faiz Ali came that night I still hadn’t taken a really firm decision. I took it when he appeared and I saw how well prepared he was. And yet I tell you truly that as I was leaving I felt as if someone was whispering in my ear,‘Umrao, don’t go! Do as I tell you!’And as I went downstairs I’d hardly reached the third step when I felt as though someone had taken hold of my arm and was pulling me back and telling me not to go. But I did go.

  6

  They made their escape from Khanam’s house to where an ox-cart was standing ready for them. A little further on Faiz Ali’s groom met them with his horse and he rode with them.

  By dawn we reached Mohan Lal Ganj, and we stayed in an inn there till midday. We had the innkeeper cook us a meal.

  Lentils without a grain of salt in them

  And not a whiff in them of fragrant ghee.

  On the third day we reached Rae Bareilly, and here we bought clothes for the journey. I got two suits made and parcelled up the clothes I’d come from Lucknow in.

  We now dismissed the ox-cart that had brought us from Lucknow, and hired another one. Then we set off for Lal Ganj, a small town some twenty miles from Rae Bareilly. We got there the same evening and put up at an inn. Faiz Ali went off to the bazaar to buy things we needed. In the room next to ours a village prostitute was staying. Her name was Nasiban. She was properly bedecked with jewellery and her clothes were of good quality. Though she was a villager her Urdu was good, spoken with the accent you hear in country towns. We conversed together at length.

  ‘Where have you come from?’ she asked.

  ‘Faizabad.’

  ‘My sister Piyaran lives in Faizabad. You must know her.’

  I saw that she had realized that I too was of her profession.

  ‘No,’ I said.‘How should I?’

  ‘There’s none of us in Faizabad that doesn’t know her.’

  ‘I’ve been living with him for a long time. He lives in Lucknow, so for most of the time I live there too.’

  ‘But you were born in Faizabad?’

  ‘Yes, I was born there but I left when I was a child.’

  ‘So you don’t know anyone in Faizabad?’

  ‘No. I don’t know anyone.’

  ‘What brings you here?’

  ‘I’m with him.’

  ‘And where are you going?

  ‘To Unnao.’

  ‘And you’ve come via Lucknow?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you come direct instead of by this out-ofthe-way route?’

  ‘He had some business in Rae Bareilly.’

  ‘I asked you that because this route is a dangerous one. So much armed robbery that people have stopped coming this way. You’ll have to go by Pulia to get to Unnao, and dozens of people have been robbed there. There are only three of you—two
men and one woman. And you’re wearing jewellery. I ask you, what can you do against them? They even attack wedding parties.’

  ‘We’ll have to trust to our luck.’

  ‘You’re very bold.’

  ‘What else can I do?’

  Well, we chatted about this and that. I don’t need to tell you it all, and anyway I don’t remember. Oh, yes, I asked her where she was going.

  ‘We’re out on gadai.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘What? You don’t understand? What sort of a prostitute are you?’

  ‘Sister, how should I know what it means? Gadai usually means begging.’

  ‘Never! That’s not what we do. Although to tell you the truth a prostitute is a beggar, no matter how rich and independent she is.’

  ‘You’re right. But I don’t know what gadai means.’

  ‘Once a year we leave our base and go round the villages. We go to the rich people’s houses, and they pay us what they like. Sometimes we have to perform, sometimes not.’

  ‘So that’s what it means.’

  ‘Yes, you understand it now.’

  ‘Are you going to some rich man near here?’

  ‘Yes. Not far from here is Raja Shambhu Dhiyan Singh’s fort. I’ve been there. He’s been ordered by the King to do something about the robbers, so he’s not there. I waited some days for him to come back and then got fed up and came here. About four miles from here there’s a village called Samriha. It’s a prostitutes’ village. My aunt lives there. Tomorrow I’m going to her.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘I’ll stay there until the Raja comes back, and then go to the fort. There’s lots of others waiting for him too.’

  ‘Does he like song and dance performances?’

  ‘Yes, very much. But he’s brought a prostitute from Lucknow and doesn’t care about us any more.’

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘I don’t know her name. I’ve seen her. She’s got quite a fair complexion and is quite good looking.’

  ‘And she sings well?’

  ‘Not at all. She’s no good at singing. She dances quite well. The Raja’s crazy about her.’

  ‘How long has she been there?’

  ‘Must be about six months.’

  That night I told Faiz Ali about the danger of the route we were taking. He said,‘Don’t worry. I’ve taken care of that.’

  The next day we left before it was properly light. Nasiban’s cart was following ours. Faiz Ali was on horseback and Nasiban and I talked to each other. It was not far to Samriha. Nasiban pointed it out before we got near it. There were fields at the roadside. Some country women were watering them while others were weeding them. There was a well with a big leather bucket hauled up by oxen. A strapping woman in a loincloth was driving the oxen and another managing the bucket. Nasiban told me that all of them were prostitutes. I thought to myself, ‘What an occupation! Prostitution, and on top of that the kind of heavy labour that even men would find it difficult to do. So why be prostitutes as well?’ But they looked like women who are suited to such work, exactly like the women in Lucknow who come and milk your animals and bring your yogurt and knead your dough.

  Nasiban left us here and we went on another four miles until we came to a big hollow. Rough ground, and, here and there, caves. We could see a river bank in front of us and lines of trees growing close together on both sides. The sun was well up when we got there. It must have been about three hours after sunrise. No other travellers in sight. Everywhere quiet and deserted. As we neared the river Faiz Ali urged his horse forward, and although I did my best to stop him, in no time at all he was a long way off. For a little while his horse disappeared, and then reappeared on the other side of the river.

  Our cart continued to move forward, with the driver urging the oxen on and the groom running behind the horse. Now the driver and I were on our own. Suddenly I saw in the distance ten to fifteen villagers running towards us. ‘May God keep us safe!’ I thought. Soon they reached the cart and surrounded it. All of them were wearing swords and had muskets on their shoulders and linstocks* burning.

  ‘Stop the cart,’ said one of them.‘Who have you got in the cart?’

  ‘A passenger from Rae Bareilly,’ said the driver.‘We’ve hired it as far as Unnao.’

  ‘Stop the cart!’

  ‘What for? The passenger is the Khan Sahib’s lady.’

  ‘No man riding with her?’

  ‘The men have gone on ahead. They’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Lady, you must get down.’

  ‘Pull back the curtain and pull her out,’ said one of them.‘She’s only a bloody prostitute. Why would she be in purdah?’

  Another of them came forward, pulled the curtain aside and told me to get down. Three men stood guarding me. Suddenly we could see dust rising from the direction of the river and hear the sound of horses’hooves. As they drew nearer I could see Faiz Ali’s horse out in front and ten to fifteen other riders behind him. As soon as they saw them the villagers fired off a volley, and two of the riders fell. They drew their swords, and then the riders were upon them. They too had drawn their swords, and blows were exchanged. Three of the villagers fell to the ground wounded and one of our men fell too. Then they ran off, calling out,‘You won’t get far! You’ll see what happens on the other side of the river!’

  After they’d gone I got into the cart again. The wounded man had his wounds bandaged and he was put into the cart with me. We set off again, with a rider on either side of the cart, and others riding in front and behind.

  Faiz Ali said to his companion, ‘There was no way we could have got away from Lucknow before we did. I can’t tell you the trouble we had.’

  ‘Why don’t you admit you stayed on to enjoy yourself?’

  ‘Yes, that’s what you would say.’

  ‘What else? And you’ve brought your prize with you; let me take a look at her too.’

  ‘Do. Do you think I’d keep her in purdah from you?’

  ‘I’ll wait till we get to the camp. Then I’ll look at her to my heart’s content.’

  By this time we’d reached the river bank. The bank was steep, and I had to get out of the cart and walk. We had a lot of difficulty in getting the cart across to the other side. The jolting had opened the wounds of the wounded man, and there was blood all over. When we had got across his wounds were bound up again and the cart washed clean. It was now about midday and I was extremely hungry. The cart moved on as before, and their camp was nowhere in sight. About eight miles on next to a village we came to a park where little tents were pitched, horses were tethered and people were moving about. Some of them were getting food ready. Here the cart stopped. As soon as he saw the riders with us a man came forward and whispered something to his companion, who was called Fazal Ali. Fazal Ali looked anxious. He rode up to Faiz Ali and talked quietly to him.

  ‘All right,’ said Faiz Ali,‘We’ll see.’

  ‘We haven’t time to eat,’ said Fazal Ali.‘Let’s go while the going’s good.’

  ‘We’ll eat while they’re striking the tents and saddling the horses.’

  I got out of the cart. A cloth was spread on the ground behind a mango tree, and the pans of food were brought, and with them great piles of chapatis in big baskets. The three of us—Faiz Ali, Fazal Ali and I—ate together. They seemed anxious, but were laughing and joking too.

  By the time we’d finished the tents had been loaded onto ponies and the horses saddled. Then we moved off.

  We’d not gone more than five or six miles when we found ourselves surrounded by a body of men, some on horseback and some on foot. We on our side were prepared for this, and bullets began to fly from both sides. While the fighting went on Faiz Ali never went far from my cart. I sat there offering up prayer after prayer with my heart beating fast and violently, and hoping for the best. Every now and then I moved the curtain away to see what was happening. People falling, people dying... There were many wounded o
n both sides. We had fifty to sixty men with us, but the other side had many more—something like ten to one. (I learnt later that these were Raja Dhiyan Singh’s men.) Fazal Ali and Faiz Ali took the chance to escape. About a dozen on our side were taken prisoner, and I among them.

  7

  The driver of the ox-cart pleaded with his captors to let him go, and they did. He took the wounded man from the cart, put him down on the ground by the dead men, and made off for Bareilly, glad to escape with his life. The other captives’ arms were pinioned, and we set off for the raja’s fort, which was about ten miles away. After a little while the raja and some of his companions came to see me. He was on horseback, and we moved ahead of the others. He gestured towards me and asked,‘Is this the lady from Lucknow?’

  I replied with hands respectfully folded,‘Your honour, I am at fault, and yet if you consider the matter, not so greatly at fault. We women know little of fraud and deception. I knew nothing of what was happening.’

  ‘Don’t try to prove your innocence. Your guilt is proven. Just answer the questions I shall ask you.’

  ‘As you command.’

  ‘Where did you live in Lucknow?’

  ‘In Taksal.’

  The raja beckoned to one of his men and told him to get an oxcart brought from the fort.‘This lady is a Lucknow courtesan, not one of our country prostitutes who can dance before an audience all night and still go on dancing for twenty miles as they accompany the wedding party.’

  The ox-cart came, and I was handed into it. The rest of the prisoners, arms still pinioned, walked beside it.

  When we reached the fort the others were sent off somewhere and I was invited in, and allotted a clean place to stay. Two men were given the task of looking after me. They brought me food—puris, sweets, and all kinds of pickles, and today, for the first time since leaving Lucknow, I ate my fill. Next morning I learned that the other prisoners had been sent off to Lucknow, but that I was to be set free. But the raja sahib was not yet willing to let me go. Later in the morning he sent for me.

  ‘I’m releasing you,’ he said. ‘Faizu and Fazal Ali turned out to be rogues. All those other good-for-nothings will go to Lucknow and get their punishment there. You are certainly not to blame, but in future don’t mix with people like that. If you wish you can stay here a few days. I’ve heard that you sing very well.’