Zindaginama

by Krishna Sobti

  When the huge pile of wood topped with cotton twigs was set alight, red flames rose sky-high. Men and women, the children and the aged, sat together under the stars, glowing red like plants of blood, sitting without a care, secure in the shelter of their clans and families – kids with melting jaggery in their mouths; carefree unmarried girls tossing popcorn into their mouths.

  When Gholu’s mother saw him gorging on jaggery, she smacked him on the head. ‘Idiot, if worms bite you in the arse tonight, I’ll go throw you in the garbage.’

  Grandma pulled her grandson on her lap. ‘Leave him ri, let him be happy today. This event comes but once a year!’’

  Shurli and Geenda started picking up bharis and putting them into the fire.

  The golden red flames blew in the wind as though life itself were rocking them in cradles of wind.

  Standing a little apart from their mothers and grandmothers, stunning young girls casually tossed corn into their mouths, throwing their arms around their girlfriends’ shoulders, and darting coquettish glances at the boys as they preened and blushed. On the other side, a group of strapping, well-built young lads eyed the girls warily.

  Harbanso called out to Tripta, ‘Bring ri, a fistful of almond-raisins for me as well.’

  Shibbo teased: ‘Are you going to be with child as well?’

  ‘It’ll be a while ri, it’ll be a while.’

  ‘Phitte moonh, watch what you speak!’ Harbanso pinched her.

  ‘Hai ri, I’m dead!’

  Standing on the other side, Gulzari, son of the goldsmiths watched them, riveted.

  ‘Fall in line ri, adjust your odhni properly!’ an old woman, noticing this, admonished.

  On the beat of the drum, the deep resonant voices of the boys resounded in the Lohri night:

  ‘Seven sons; seventeen grandsons

  Five daughters; fifteen grandsons

  Now all day long, poor Ma Kichhi

  Washes soiled kachhis!

  Enjoy the fruit of toil, O women of good karma

  Celebrate weddings every day,

  O women of good karma.’

  Shahni and Chachi bathed by the house well while it was still dark. They pulled on their salwar-suits, wrapped themselves in shawls and then came and stood in front of the haveli.

  Nawab, who was standing by, whacked Shahbaz’s rump, adjusted the cloth saddle on the horse and having tightened its stirrups, brought it to the doorstep.

  Shahni spoke the name of Vaheguru in her heart and leapt on to the horse like a young mutiyar. Giving Chachi a hand, she pulled her up beside her and took hold of the reins. Then she looked heavenwards and noting the time by the glow of the stars, set off on a trot.

  Walking alongside, Nawab’s shoes kept time with the horse’s hooves.

  A calf bounded past ahead, on the common.

  ‘Chachi, look at this calf. Not more than four or six days old and how it leaps and jumps.’

  ‘Child, Miyen Khan’s buffalo is the new mother.’

  Chachi Mehri prayed to the all-giver in her heart: ‘Garib Nawaz, your servant to command comes to your court to bow her head. You who have mercy for everyone; if your eyes grant this wish, the Shah family too will have something to celebrate.’

  When they were crossing the dry sand run on the outskirts of the village, Shahni took up Baba Farid’s sacred song in her sweet musical voice:

  ‘The flower that blooms before dawn,

  Is granted fruit from the departing night;

  Those who worship early morn

  Receive the Lord’s light.

  On His rousing

  We should walk His path.

  ‘But those awake merely of eyes,

  Do not receive.

  The truly enlightened,

  Wake from deep slumber,

  From blindness, even,

  So that their souls ascend.’

  Shahni’s throat suddenly choked with tears as she sang. Praises to the Baba for his true thoughts! Clouds gathered in Shahni’s heart and rained tears.

  Nawab the horseman prayed to Allah. Shahji was blessed with a fine wife. Shahni had the courage of queens and empresses, and bore the love of God in her heart.

  Beyond the twin ponds, the sun god peeped from behind the abutments in the sky as the horse clambered up a sandy bank overgrown with reeds. The dew on the greens sparkled like pearls. Yellow fields of sarson bordered with Kangani, Cheena and Chalodhara. Rows of Singi and Maina shone in the sun, pleasuring their eyes. Icy winds coming from the mountains ahead frolicked in the warmth of the sun.

  Shahni and Chachi bowed their heads together. Far off in the direction of Adalatgarh, the minarets of Sheikh Saddo were becoming visible.

  When Nawab also salaamed, Chachi Mehri said, ‘Make a wish, and say: “I promise – if I get my heart’s desire, I’ll light a lamp in the court of Sheikh Saddo.”’

  Shahni reined in her horse and stopped. Dismounting, she touched her head to the doorstep of the masjid, put down some money for oil, and then restarted for Adalatgarh.

  ‘I say, child, we’ll stay at Hakima’s for only half a day or so. Even if we leave at noon, we should reach Jalalpur by evening. And tomorrow morning, we’ll be in the court of Baba Farid.’

  Soon Hakima Bibi’s freshly clay-washed courtyard, shining in the sunshine was visible from a distance.

  ‘Hakima is very house-proud. See, clay-wash so smooth you could write on it.’

  Both of them walked up and stood by the manger. The cowpats were smouldering and the milk was on slow simmer in the boiler.

  Chachi called out: ‘Hakima Bibi, come and take a look outside. You’ve got guests.’

  Hakima Bibi’s handsome husband Ghulam Rasool emerged on hearing them; his aristocratic bearing made even the kuchcha walls of his house look grandiose. Tall, black moustache on wheatish skin, long locks of hair curling at the base of his neck.

  ‘Salaam to you, Chachi! Salaam Shahni!’

  ‘Long life to you, puttar, enjoy your youth.’ Chachi gave her blessings.

  ‘Kyon ji, Ghulam Rasool, where is my sister Hakima?’

  ‘She’ll come out presently.’

  When Hakima Bibi waddled out, the child hidden in her womb seemed to peep out from under her dupatta. ‘Welcome, Shahni, come! Khairon se, you’ve arrived like the morning sunshine.’ Then she salaamed Chachi.

  ‘May your husband live. May God bless you with a son,’ Chachi blessed.

  ‘Believe me, Shahni, when I put flour in the dough bowl today, a bit fell outside. My heart said, “Of course, a guest has started for here!”’

  Shahni looked at Ghulam Rasool and said, ‘Shahji was asking after your well-being. Kyon ri, Hakima, have you made my brother-in-law forget the road to our village?’

  Ghulam Rasool smiled. ‘You are absolutely right, Shahni! I shan’t be allowed to move out of the house till this adopted sister of yours is with child!’

  Chachi Mehri’s eyes were riveted by Hakima’s girth. Then she asked softly, ‘Kyon daughter, eighth month, or the ninth?’

  A bashful Hakima wouldn’t look at Shahni.

  Shahni started laughing: ‘Why do you blush? I’ll tease my brother-in-law, not you. Kyon ji, Ghulam Rasool, isn’t that so?’

  Ghulam Rasool’s sideburns shone in the sun.

  Hakima’s sister-in-law, Satbhravi, the sister of seven brothers, heard that some guests had come and came to meet them.

  ‘Hakima, the tandoor is hot. I’ll get hot chapattis.’

  ‘Na ri na, my child, we started on a full stomach.’

  Satbhravi was adamant. ‘Grain and water are god-given. Respect it. I won’t let you go without eating something.’

  Chachi lauded her good manners saying, ‘Long life to you. Daughter, we’re really full. If we had come walking, then we might have felt hungry.’

  Ghulam Rasool mediated, ‘Chachi, Satbhravi bharjaaee won’t listen. If not roti, then have milk or buttermilk.’

  Hakima suddenly remembered Shahni’s favourite
drink. ‘Give some kehva to Shahni.’

  ‘Leaf tea from Bhadravah. I’ll make it in a jiffy.’

  Chachi said, ‘Put a pinch of salt. And daughter, put less cream in my kehva.’

  Hakima started laughing. ‘Chachi, what is kehva without cream?’

  Ghulam Rasool brought out a kangri, a small earthen pot with red-hot embers in it, and set it in front of the guests. The kangri was aglow, as if a piece of the sun had fallen into the womb of the earth. Shahni, warming her hands, thought to herself, Consider the vagaries of nature and the solutions devised by men. What hasn’t the son of Adam made for his pleasure and convenience?

  Satbhravi brought out a bowl of puffed bajra and pieces of jaggery. ‘Nibble on this while the kettle boils!’

  Chachi put a piece of jaggery in her mouth. ‘Hain ri, this tastes like the jaggery made for new mothers. This has ajwain and dried ginger in it!’

  Hakima laughed. ‘Satbhravan bharjaaee is addicted to jaggery. Every winter she fills a pot.’

  ‘Okay, let’s sweeten our mouths even before your son is born. When is the baby arriving?’

  Hakima ran a hand tenderly over her belly, as if caressing her child’s head, then leaned towards Chachi and confessed, ‘Intermittent pains the whole night. I got up early and finished my work fast.’

  ‘Ari, I hope these were not the suppressed cold spasms that come every so often!’

  ‘Na!’

  ‘Rasool puttar! Call Satbhravan! Tell her to bring whatever she needs to, fast!’

  Satbhravi brought a tray with two bowls of kehva – with cardamom and almonds and a thick layer of cream on top – and some corn on the cob with a gob of butter, and placed it before the guests. They both took the steaming bowls and holding them with their dupattas, put them to their lips, drinking quickly.

  ‘Daughter Hakima, have you prepared Ghulam Rasool’s rotis or not?’

  ‘Yes, Chachi!’

  ‘Puttarji, looks like Hakima’s delivery is near. Call the midwife.’

  Satbhravi gave some kehva to Hakima in a clay pot. ‘Behna, it may be bitter, but drink it. I’ve put cow’s ghee in it. It’ll stand you in good stead!’

  When Ghulam Rasool returned, he had an anxious look on his face. ‘Chachi, Karm bibi is not available today. She has gone for a delivery to the sheikhs of Naushehra!’

  Chachi stood up immediately and turned to Shahni. ‘While I watch Hakima, you heat the stove and put some water to boil. Put a tight lid on the copper vessel, no dust or soil should enter! Ghulam puttar, if you have an unused clay pot, give it to me for the theekri ritual. And put some oil in the lamp and place it in the niche.’

  Handing the things required and her keys to her aunt, Hakima lay down on the mattress. ‘I’m dying, Chachi, I can’t bear it any more.’

  Chachi bent over Hakima. Then she caressed her head. ‘Hakima beti, just fix your mind on the hand of Bibi Mariam and chant the name of Zahira Sakhi Sarwar!’

  Shahni brought the lamp closer to help and spoke bracingly to Hakima as she writhed in pain, ‘Saheliye, have courage. You are not alone in your pain and suffering. Ari, the very foundations of Ghulam Rasool’s house are shaking. All his ancestors are looking down from heaven.’

  When Chachi felt the head of the baby, she moved fast. ‘Khairen-mehren, gods’ protection, His mercies! Hold your baby, Hakima, congratulations!’

  The tremulous cries of the newborn filled the room!

  Shahni opened the door an inch and said to Ghulam Rasool standing outside, ‘Congratulations, Ghulam Rasoolji, khairon se, your heir has arrived.’

  Ghulam Rasool’s throat constricted. ‘God’s grace, congratulations to you as well, Shahni!’ His handsome face reflected the blood of his ancestors. ‘Shahni, your feet were lucky for this house.’

  ‘Vaheguru, Vaheguru, only He who gives, is the life force. How else could man create a child in his own image and raise it? Rabbji, Your grace!’

  Shahji and the inspector hadn’t even returned from the fields when news of a break-in during the night spread through the village like wildfire. Groups of men started gathering in front of Shahji’s haveli.

  Nawab, who had been chopping cattlefeed, laughed. ‘Badshaho, the thanedar has gone to the bushes to relieve himself. Only when he arrives will he admit petitions and papers.’

  Mukhtyaar adjusted the pleats of his wrap-around tehmad. ‘Lo, listen to what Nawab says! Arey, your guests have gone to shit only, na? Not to fire the cannon of the Bhangis?’

  Nawab threw down his axe and grinned. ‘What are you saying, badshaho, on one hand is the mini upheaval of the morning, on the other the cannon of the Sikhs!’

  ‘Haan ji, khairon se, whose tummy doesn’t rumble in the morning? Have patience. The thanedar has gone to relieve himself. He’ll be back here soon.’

  Seeing the fear and awe the thanedar inspired in the people, Fazal’s wide chest grew bitter. ‘Lo ji, Salamat Ali’s tummy is not so extraordinary that its rumble should be an earthquake! Why don’t you simply say that he has gone to unburden himself after yesterday’s lavish feast?’

  ‘Yes, well, one who eats grain has to squat on his haunches and relieve his bowels as well. We didn’t exaggerate. Since he is a guest, we embellished the talk a little, that’s all!’

  ‘Is this because of the thanedar’s office and the turban that he wears?’

  ‘Well, we have to salute the inspectors-constables occasionally, don’t we?’

  Muhammdin threw some cattlefeed into the manger and laughed. ‘Aaho ji, it’s not as if we have cases of disputed lands tied up in courts for us to break into applause the moment we glimpse the thanedar’s turban.’

  Nawab recited an akhyan: ‘Someone once said to a horse, “O lundeya, may you be stolen by thieves!” Gazi, the brave horse shook his head. “No problem, I’ll still eat the same food only.’’ What I mean to say is, let the world be a munsif or an ahalkar, an officer or an administrator, we are still going to feed cattle.’

  Maulu suddenly remembered the earlier thanedar, Bachchoo Khan: ‘At least Thanedar Salamat Ali is tall and in good health. When old Bachchoo Khan came on inspection, he farted all the time, and had watery stools, besides. Poor thing, had to visit the jungle so often! Couldn’t even talk about it. Chhote Shah correctly diagnosed Bachchoo Khan with dysentry and piles. He gave him medicine, performed a spell, tied a thread, and by Rabb’s grace, Bachchoo Khan was cured.’

  Sultan nudged Khajoora: ‘Look oye, look there.’

  Hearing the stamp of Shahji’s and the thanedar’s feet approach, the crowd grew apprehensive. Who should speak first?

  Shahji looked at them and asked, ‘Why this crowd?’

  ‘We’ve heard that someone broke into the Jammiwalas’ home.’

  ‘What are you saying? We were right here in the village; the audacity that such a thing should happen in our presence …’ Thanedar Salamat Ali’s voice was like an oiled cane slicing the air.

  Miyan Khan stepped forward importantly and threw a glance at the Jammiwalas. ‘Break-in, theft, robbery, whatever happened, state it clearly.’

  ‘Sahib, it was the last part of the night. The waterwheel beneath the Lasooda tree had started. I had just taken my dottahi from the peg and put it on my shoulder …’

  ‘Taj Khan, the thieves must have tied a rope to your peg only! I’ll skin your hide such that your whole body will clang like bells! Whose wall is adjacent to the one that’s broken into?’ the thanedar spat.

  Ismael tailor started trembling. He came forward and salaamed, ‘Janaab!’

  ‘Janaab, my foot. I’ll light your bony butt on a stove in a jiffy. The thieves broke into the wall from your side; when they decamped they used your stairs! Left clothes strewn around, that too on your roof! Confess on your own! I haven’t inspected the site yet!’

  Ismael was petrified. ‘Janaab, I’m not guilty.’

  The constable was ordered. ‘Maddi Khan, bisect his skull diagonally! You, Tunda, you one-armed fellow, get up! Do you know who
I am?’

  ‘Motiyowalo, who doesn’t know one as capable as you!’

  ‘Spill the beans!’

  ‘Janaab, but I’m here.’

  ‘What strategies was this quartet of thieves weaving in thief city?’

  ‘Na janaab, I swear. Thief city is on one side, the Jammiwala settlement on the other; we would never think of such a thing!’

  ‘Oye, you aren’t even man enough to cover your own arse! Maddi Khan, show this one-handed chap the beauties of heaven.’

  Twisting Tunda’s arm, Maddi Khan ended the story of loose stomachs in one go!

  When the thanedar saw Tunda lying flat on the ground, he winked at his subordinate and indicated – enough. And turning his back on the crowd, he started talking to Shahji.

  Looking at them furtively, Tunda mustered the courage to call out to Khajoora, ‘Oye sister-lover, where’s my right shoe? Find it for me!’

  Maddi Khan threatened, ‘Not your shoe, it is your bloody leg that’s going to be widowed next!’

  Shahji sat back and enjoyed the antics of his friend Inspector Salamat Ali!

  No break-in and no theft; free-of-cost goods. And without a theft, the thief had been caught!

  Now a list of stolen goods would be fabricated, whose owner Surjan Singh, son of Arjun Singh, was already selling them hundreds of miles away in Patna Saheb.

  When Chachi Mehri lay down on the cot that night after dinner, she began a plaintive song:

  ‘Ari, no sons can you have for the asking

  Nor are they sold in the haat

  Hai, if they could be had for the asking

  I would’ve bought enough to fill my heart!’

  When Mabibi heard her, she felt a stab.

  ‘Hai ri, Chachi! One who came to the Shah family of her own will, and merged her own life, her very world with theirs, why does she paint pictures of forgotten dreams?’

  Mabibi lifted the lamp from the nook near the small well and peeped into Chachi’s room. Chachi was lying with her face to the wall, her head wrapped in a warm shawl. Mabibi put the lamp in the niche and sat down to press Chachi’s feet.

  Chachi started a new song:

  ‘What mother, what father

  Names are all; ties aren’t to be