Shahni got up, wrapped herself in a shawl and came out of the pasaar. She’d just taken a step to open the kitchen latch when she felt dizzy. Head reeling, she leaned heavily against the pillar. ‘Chachi, come for a moment. I don’t feel too well.’
Chachi hurried out, flustered: ‘Who called? Ari, who called out?’
When she saw her girl sitting against the pillar, she grew alarmed. ‘What’s this, meri bachchi? What are you doing, sitting here so early in the morning?’
‘Chachi, please give me some water!’
Chhoti Shahni came out on hearing the noise. ‘Kyon ri Jethi, what happened?’
Shahni was about to say something when she threw up.
Mabibi said, ‘Boil ajwain in water, Chachi.’
Taking an ember from the milk-boiler, Chachi lit the chulha with it and muttered to herself, ‘You ask me, if one is not feeling well, then …’
Chhoti Shahni bent to Chachi and spoke in her ear, ‘Why bother with satt-ajwain? Do understand, Chachi! I am off to offer thanks and prayers …’
‘Chachi, I was all right at night. Don’t know what …’
‘Enough ri! Stop wondering. Take a bath and come to the kitchen!’
Shahni stood up, took the ubatan, the oil-turmeric-gramflour paste, to bathe, and called out to Kartaro, ‘Balli, wash the utensils and knead the dough. I’ll go have a bath.’
Chachi’s eyes burned bright as jewels. She chided her affectionately, ‘Aa ri uttamgandho, my fragrant one, I’m getting late.’
Mabibi watched them both as they went downstairs. Then raised her hands heavenwards and said, ‘Maula, Your grace. Allah, Your mercies.’
The Jammi waterwheel had started. Every now and then fresh sunshine dappled the fields. Soft cottonball buds swayed shyly in gentle gusts of wind. Straight ahead, along the pure blue sky, the sparkling blue line of river appeared like a thin line, dividing earth and heaven.
Chachi and Shahni took their clothes off and waded into the river.
Cupping the water in worshipful hands, they bowed to the sun-god. ‘In all worlds-universes, supreme is your power and glory, Maharaj.’
Chachi went into the deep end and dipped her head in repeatedly. Shahni bowed her head towards the mountains and called out the jaikara, ‘Gaura bhuvabhamini, always Your glories!’ Then splashing her face, she dove under water. Her fair body shimmered in the waves, sparkling in the maiden sunshine.
‘Enough, bachchi! Bow your head and ask for protection from the pirs and fakirs.’
Shahni understood that Chachi knew.
Closing her eyes she thought of Baba Farid. ‘Your mercies; all Your doings, Baba, otherwise would this fallow land grow green? With Your munificence, let this day bear fruit.’
Walking along the reedy shoreline, they both turned towards the village and Shahni began humming the Barahmasa, the song of twelve months by Bulle Shah:
‘In phagun the spring fields are like girls bedecked in flowers
Every bough laden with blooms, like maidens with garlands
But, O beloved, my Holi is played with eyes that stream tears,
Each moment is anguish.
My heart is pierced with arrows of love,
Dying a little more
Every time the koel calls.
Waiting, listening, waiting, listening
For my beloved to come home.’
Three mutiyar faces suddenly chirruped: ‘Salaam Shahni!’ ‘Salaam Chachi!’
They turned and saw Rabeyan, Fateh and Shirin.
‘Kyon ri girls, have you come to pick vegetables?’
‘Ji, Shahni!’
‘Ari, what’s news of your chhand-kavitt, your verses?’
Rabeyan’s butter-soft face glowed in the sun.
‘Shall I recite one, Chachi?’
‘Of course! Shahni’s heart will be pleased.’
‘Joy and sweetness to all those who live!
Lovers of all those who love, and are loved.
Whose heart is the sun
Who hold sunshine in their fists
On whose forehead shines the moon,
Who are blessed with a son.’
Shahni stared at Rabeyan as if the girl were some sage saint who knew the secret life of life. She remembered the celestial glow of her dream. ‘Jeeti raho! May Rabb bestow you with good fortune. Rabeyan, child, when you finish work, come and sit with me for an hour or two!’
‘Ji, Shahni!’
When Chachi and Shahni moved on, Chachi remarked, ‘The Arais’ daughters are blessed with such beauty, they satisfy the soul’s hunger!’
‘What you say is true, Chachi. Rabeyan’s wisdom is such that it shines radiant. Face like a rose. May the evil eye stay away from her!’
‘Blessed is their mother. It’s as if Hassa of the Arais sculpted her girls’ bodies with water and clear mountain air. Hassa herself was no less beautiful! Heredity! It’s said that Rabb gives life-breath, but skin and beauty are bestowed by the mother and father.’
‘Chachi, do you know what Shahji says about Rabeyan?’
‘What?’
‘He says if you look at the girl’s face, you want to go on looking at the doe-eyed one.’
‘But this is not praise; it’s prayer.’
‘Whatever you may say, our Shah has a discerning eye.’
Outside the town’s courts, crowds of Jatt landlords spun intricate manoeuvres and strategies that ensured someone would either make a killing or get killed. Someone would lose his lands; and someone his neck. Like a game of peer-kauri, sometimes the home team would defeat the visiting one. And sometimes the visiting team would throw a googly. The Jatt shahukars fought interminable cases and the lawyers and judges made good money.
Fickle witnesses could be hired at will. In murder-dacoity, debt-mortgage, principal-interest and moneylending disputes, many lands were swallowed. No bonds, no papers. However once it was written in Shah’s hand, then whatever the Jatt spoke were lies and what the Shah spoke was Truth. Many a crucial case was decided by the sheer stature of turbans.
Chaudhary Fateh Aliji of Dhulanwala was sitting in the Gujrat Courts’ premises when he noticed Khushi Muhammadji of Madina and called out to him: ‘Khushi Muhammadji, everyone in good spirits? Khairon se, what hearing did you attend today? Khair-sallah, at least two or three cases are heard in the courts on any given day!’
‘Haan ji, it was the hearing of Chookanwali lands. Got a new date. I’ve heard that the Revered Justice is out of station today.’
‘Whose court are you talking about?’
‘That of Ghulam Mustafa, younger scion of our Sheikh Ahmad of Dariya Kalan.’
On hearing this, Gauraliwala Pehalwan, a permanent resident of the court said, ‘Must be some other reason for the postponement. The Revered Justice is definitely in station.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Badshaho, the Revered Justice was buying bhindi in the vegetable market this morning.’
There was an appreciative roar of laughter.
‘It’s like this ji, if the judge-munsif is seen outside of the court, he loses half his majesty. And if the Revered Justice is seen buying bhindi and garlic, then the crowning glory of the court is completely destroyed!’
Just then a tall, strong-built youth approached them. ‘Salaam, Chacha Sahib!’
‘Jeete raho, Barkhurdar! Long life to you! Where was your hearing?’
‘In the court of Sheikh Azmatullah Sahib!’
‘Done?’
‘Na ji, got a new date.’
Fateh Aliji nodded. ‘This is the court’s sweet whim. Is everything all right at home?’
‘Ji, yes, Allah’s munificence.’
‘Puttarji, the property dispute with your relatives, did it reach any conclusion?’
‘Na ji. It became clear during litigation that the Patti Rattariya land was mortgaged by Chacha Nabi Muhammadji.’
‘It is always the same thing. Relatives fight, and witnesses become the owners!’
&nbs
p; When Jalla and Sammu of Nanowal entered the yard, all eyes were dazzled by the sight of their sculpted, toned bodies. Faces of blood and salt. Who wouldn’t admire these tigers who had walked scot-free after three dacoities?
The partners in crime walked up to them and asked Fateh Aliji, ‘Chaudhary Sahib, how’s that man from your village, Sansi Badshah? Rumour has it that he created quite a stir in Jhelum.’
‘What to say of Sansi, puttar? Here today. Gone tomorrow.’
Jalla nodded grimly. ‘Badshaho, Sansi’s feet have fast wheels. Today Sandalbar, tomorrow Nilobar, day after Chhachh Khushab.’
Khushi Muhammadji cast an interested look at the youth and asked innocently, ‘Kyon ji, do camels run faster than the railways? I’ve heard that if the horse is Arabian, it can outspeed a train.’
Expert fugitives, Jalla and Sammu wet their lips. Then feigning innocence they said brazenly, ‘Badshaho, we only travel on these two feet. Why tell lies, we haven’t even crossed the Vazeerabad bridge.’
Chaudharyji had known the boys since they were in diapers. He laughed and said, ‘Of course, puttarji, just as only in your dreams did you reach Sheikhupura, Patiala and Karnal.’
Jalla and Sammu grinned. ‘As you say, Chaudharyji, only in our dreams.’
Shahji arrived just then, having disposed of a hearing. Good height, a crisp white turban worn atop a rosy face. On either side, like hand towels, trailed two paid witnesses from Bhagowal.
‘Aao ji aao, Shah Sahib! Without you, this gathering was incomplete.’
Saudagar Singh and Ujagar Singh Bhagowalia glanced at Jalla and Sammu, as if sizing up two bundles of the same goods.
When one of the Bhagowalias started cracking his fingers, Shahji immediately understood what he was hinting at. Offering them some small change, he said, ‘Go, barkhurdars, go to Moola Halwai’s sweet shop and refresh yourselves.’ The boys’ witnessing had borne fruit. Saying ‘Satvachan’, they grabbed the cash and scampered off.
Chaudharyji laughed. ‘Shahji, these Bhagowalias are the last word in conmanship.’
‘Chaudharyji, don’t I know it! They can turn this into that and that into this. I recognize their kind only too well. But you know how it is, to make your case strong in court, you need these prayer-singers.’
‘Waah-waah! Shahji! The beauty of it! Make them stand in court, and they start singing prayer songs!’
‘The witnesses’ job is over and done with today, isn’t it, Shahji? The case should be wrapped up in the next one or two hearings?’
Shahji laughed. ‘Chaudhary Sahib, last winter a case pertaining to land in Naushehra was coming up in court. When I came on the day of the hearing, both these jokers had vanished. Then I saw both hirelings standing sheepishly with bowls of milk-jalebi. When they saw me, both smiled it off. “Forgiveness, Shahji, can’t show you our faces any more. We’ve been bought by your rivals.” And just for those motherfucking jalebi-bowls! So I patted them on the back and said, “Barkhurdar, I didn’t lose anything. What’s lost is your honesty and, moreover, I’ve struck your name off my list of loyal witnesses as well.’’’
Deep-throated coughs and laughter resounded in the courtyard. ‘What then, Shah Sahib?’
‘What do you think? They fell at my feet. I gave them some money for milk-jalebi and for a whole year, called them to the court, but didn’t allow them to appear as witnesses. At last, only today, when they rubbed their noses in the sand and vowed loyalty to me, did I allow them on the stand.’
Chaudhary Vasava Khan of Jalalpur joined the group. ‘Khair-sukh, Shahji?’
‘Thanks to the lord.’
‘There is news that the government is taking steps against dacoity and theft. And if any officer loses his life in the process then the government will fine the villages.’
At this point, Jhugga Khan of Kunjawala strutted in grandly with his bodybuilder’s gait. Everyone could tell from his face that he had come straight from winning a criminal case. They all shook his hand and congratulated him.
‘May Rabb-Rasool keep His merciful ways, badshaho, truth knows no fear.’
Shahji said, ‘Jhugga Khanji, with God’s grace, the joy of winning criminal cases doesn’t come every day. The very prestige of winning itself raises one’s stature.’ He took a coin from his pocket and gave it to Rakkha. ‘Such a wonderful occasion demands that Chaudharyji sweeten his mouth! Go buy some badana from the shop of Gujaranwalian.’
Pleased with himself, Jhugga Khanji seated himself comfortably. ‘Shahji, at least find out from some deputy mukhtar if all this talk of a fine is true, and to what extent!’
‘Chaudharyji, in any case involving a secret raiding party, at least four to six villages will have to make reparations.’
Haji Shah of Choronkiwala wanted an inside opinion. ‘Shah Sahib, about this murder, only one thing comes to mind, and that is that either the entire village was involved in the conspiracy, or some characterless slut had relations with Dilawar Khan.’
Vasava Khanji cast a sharp glance around. ‘That doesn’t sound like an opinion that is liable to change. More like the police has already decided on the accused.’
Shahji laughed. ‘Badshaho, to know one’s true worth, one has to stop speculating. You know as well as I do that our police is no less in helping snakes escape.’
Jhugga Khanji appreciated the sentiment: ‘Bahut khoob, well said, Shah Sahib. Dilawar Khan has already ascended to heaven. Now what is left is for the government to go through the motions of investigation. Let’s see which village gets stuck with the blame!’
In every home, columns and pillars were decorated with ears of wheat. Sheaves of grain-god tied with sacred mauli looked beautiful enough to satisfy the hunger of hearts and eyes. Halwa-poori was being prepared in the Shah kitchens and the aroma even reached the houses of the Brahmin priests.
The first Navratra. Shahni gave the kitchen a fresh clay wash, laid out aasans and chowkis and put a big cauldron of kheer on slow fire. Sooji for the halwa was roasted in the karhai.
When Chachi added a fistful of almonds and raisins, Kartaro’s mouth watered. ‘Shahni, let me taste if it’s sweet enough!’
Chachi admonished, ‘Have patience, ri Kartaro! The karhai is suchchi, as yet untouched. Let the Brahmin priests eat off it first!’
Shahni started laughing. ‘Patience ri. On this day, which comes but once a year, recite some mantras from the holy scriptures. Your hunger will keep till the Brahmin Pandas are fed.’
Kartaro replied cheekily, ‘In Rabb’s house too the Brahmins have good offices. Here, too, vessels filled with milk and ghee are just for the Pandas. Only poor Kartaro’s heart is empty and alone.’
Shahni removed the karhai from the fire and said softly to Chachi, ‘Take my soothan-kurta from the shelf and give it to Kartaro to wear. Let her take a bath and wear it so that her heart knows some peace.’
Chachi got the salwar-suit from the pasaar and draped it over Kartaro’s arm. ‘Go and take a bath at the well. Then come and roll out the pooris! Bhagwan Panda will be arriving shortly.’
When Kartaro returned wearing a purple chheent with yellow polka dots, she was laughing and preening at how well the clothes became her.
When the row of Brahmin Pandas sat down to feast, Kartaro started joking with the boys. ‘Eat re eat! If you don’t eat then how will you read the Vedas? If you don’t read the Vedas, how will you perform the weddings of lucky people?’
Srinath, Bhagwan Panda’s son, considered her words, and said to his father, ‘Chachaji, why don’t we arrange sister Kartaro’s wedding with Sahib Ditta of Kulluwal?’
Kartaro hid her face in her palms and ran to hide in the small room.
Shahni smilingly put halwa in Srinath’s thali. ‘Main sadke jaaoon! Pandaji, such wisdom in this young forehead! And why not, he is the scion of wise ones from Kashi.’
Pandaji lifted his head from his plate and in a serious voice intoned, ‘Shahni, the fates themselves have spoken from this boy’s mouth. Sahib Ditta is a wido
wer, but so what? He has cattle. He has a grocery shop. What else does a man need, if he has food, clothes and shelter – kulli, gulli aur julli.’
Shahni proffered a bowl of kheer to him and asked, ‘Pandaji, how old is the boy, our jajman?’
Chachi Mehri interrupted, ‘Khairon se, whatever the age of the widower, we accept. Today is an auspicious day and date. Bhagwaneya, take our sagun, a small votive offering, of coconut and dates to their house by evening to convey our intent.’
Having eaten their fill, the Brahmins got coins in dakshina from Shahni. To Pandaji she handed a red pouch of the auspicious coconuts and dates and five silver coins. ‘Pandaji, if this orphan’s holy matrimony can be arranged through you, then we are freed of all anxiety. We shall not lack in effort.’
Bhagwan Panda touched his turban and said, ‘If Kulluwalwale ask the girl’s age, what do I say?’
Chachi glared at him. ‘I say, Bhagwaneya, if we ask the age of a widower, you can ask the girl’s age. We shall certainly tell. Now just invoke the nine planets and deliver the fate of this sirmuniya.’
Pandaji was not distracted. ‘Shahni, try to remember how old our girl is.’
Chachi did some calculations in her mind. ‘Between sixteen and eighteen!’ She didn’t think it feasible to venture into the twenties.
Shahni smiled. ‘Chachi, Kartaro is a bit older than that.’
Bhagwan Panda wrapped up the matter, saying, ‘I remember, her parents died in the epidemic!’
Scared at the way this conversation was going, Chachi hurriedly intervened, ‘Bhagwaneya, everything is clear! Count the years on your fingers and set off for Kulluwal!’
When Kartaro was called in by Shahni, she immediately set about cleaning the utensils. Watching her, Shahni was overwhelmed by a rush of love. ‘Youth was passing you by in cleaning utensils. May Rabb will it that your doors to luck open up too.’
A happy Kartaro gave the brass pots a more vigorous scrub.
Chachi scolded her, ‘Be graceful ri. Don’t rock around like that. Wear a bra from now on. Wash your head and show it to me tomorrow. God forbid if there’s a lashkar of lice camping in your tresses!’
Zindaginama Page 9
