Zindaginama

by Krishna Sobti

  Heera’s brother came out. ‘The bitch has started barking first thing in the morning. Arey, tie the support, fix the frame, and it’ll be done by night.’

  Jeeva started spewing abuse. ‘People, should this nitpicking husband of mine pick on me day and night, or show some work to his name?’

  Heera threatened, ‘Shut up, owl-eyes. Put chaff in the dung and smear it on your mug!’

  ‘Get lost, you animal!’

  Jatri and Mundera Sansi came out from the adjoining houses and warned, ‘O Jeeva, rein in your tongue. If your man thrashes you, don’t complain to us!’

  Jeeva sent up a wail, ‘Shut up, you friends of this cussed beast! This useless block of wood neither earns nor fetches anything. I will spew shame on him a hundred times!’

  Heera came up to Jeeva and yanked her plait. ‘Ari bhed-kuttan, trying to kick my pride, are you! I will punish you so …’

  ‘All empty threats. Go wash your face in your mother’s piss!’

  Heera rained such a flurry of blows on Jeeva that the whole village collected in a trice. All the relatives gathered around. ‘Chup ri, big mouth, rein in your tongue!’

  ‘Why should I? My eyes have seen the ones with high turbans!’

  The Sansi clan was at once gripped with fear. Heera heeded the urgent warning and grabbing Jeeva by her hair, started pushing her inside. ‘You bitch, I will put poison in your mouth!’

  Jeeva shoved him aside. ‘You fool, run now, just run!’

  Heera had barely leapt towards the steps when the policemen surrounded him. Jeeva still did not admit defeat. ‘I won’t cry for you, re! As if your son plays in my lap, you childless one!’

  Jatri put a hand on her mouth. ‘Chup!’

  ‘Listen to me, husband mine! If I don’t curse each one of you to death, my name isn’t Jeeva!’

  Heera Sansi spat at her from over the constable’s head, ‘May Kammo ki Wali Mai curse me if I ever touch water from your pot again!’

  ‘Shah Sahib, if the ways of good and right don’t work, and one has to resort to black magic, then why struggle through life? One can just get some charms made and hang them from one’s ears to tide things over?’

  Shahji laughed. ‘What you say isn’t wrong, Najibeya. But you know that the world still runs on the custom of work and reward, right?’

  ‘Shahji, the thing with us poor folk is that whether one sleeps facing the north or the south, one’s back always touches the ground. But the rich remain secure no matter what.’

  ‘No, Najibe, it’s not like that. Everyone should remember and recognize the difference between good and bad. The wheel of dharma constantly judges man’s deeds.’

  ‘Kashi Shah, you are the voice of truth and your words are pure wisdom. What anyone else says is either an exaggeration or only a half-truth.’

  The elder Shahji cast a deep look at Najiba and, nodding, said, ‘Najibe, you have seen the men who dig wells, haven’t you? They are recognized by their picks and spades.’

  Najiba’s whole face broke into a smile. ‘Shahji, praises on you! People don’t say in vain that the Shah plumbs the depths of Paataal in the blink of an eye.’

  ‘You have seen the jute rope of the well, haven’t you? It is that which pulls out the sweet water.’

  ‘Sadke, badshaho, sadke! The words haven’t even crossed my lips, and you have already gauged the content! Shahji, the thing is that the pulley is yet to be fixed, and money has run short. If you are generous, the well will get its face and features.’

  ‘Najibeya, will the shared ownership of the well with your brother Habiba work out?’

  ‘Shahji, it may yet work out with Habiba. But the owners, by His grace, are now three.’ Sitting on his haunches, Najiba drew lines in the dust. ‘It’s the disease of this bum town, you could say. One didn’t have enough, the second couldn’t meet the shortfall, so the third scraped together what little he had and decided to invest in our well.’

  Kashi Shah looked intently at this client who was already deep in debt.

  Shahji pushed the matter further. ‘Najib badshah, I don’t understand. If one doesn’t have money, then why loosen the purse strings again and again?’

  Najiba instantly touched his ears. ‘Tauba, Shah Sahib! But yes, if you said we Jatts have thick skulls, I would have to agree. Matters with the well-sharing arrangement came to such a pass that there were fights over the water with Kakku Khan every day. One day we brothers thought, why not finish this daily squabble once and for all? So early next morning, when Kakku Khan was standing on the boundary of his field to divert the water his way, I picked up the cleaver and took a firm step in his direction, but God knows what happened, my resolve wavered. When I went back to Habiba, he asked, “So, did you dispatch him?” I told him, “No. When my foot itself refused to move, brother mine, how could the hand?” Hearing this, Habiba stood up, tied the mandasa on his head and put out his hand, saying, “La, give me the cleaver.” He had barely gone three-four steps when he turned back and half-heartedly said, “Najiba, it seems Kakku Khan will live a long life yet. We used to hear from Ma that his aunt died when he was a month old. Ma would nurse us both by turns. Najiba, how can I raise my hand against him?” Take it to be nature’s writ. Milk triumphed over blood!

  ‘Shahji, that very day we brothers resolved that we would find a solution together.’

  Kashi Shah lauded this decision. ‘Very good, Najibeya! Rabb showed the way, and you followed. Our Amira is already serving life in Kalapani for murder.’

  ‘What news of Attar Amira? Five-six years have already passed.’

  ‘Haan ji. His blustering muscleman tactics are in full sway even there.’

  ‘Good, let him live! Najibe, the air and water in Kalapani are noxious. Poisonous mosquitoes suck a man’s lifeblood away. Even if a man outlasts his sentence, only his skeleton remains.’

  ‘Shahji, I’ve heard that convicts of Chamb and Dera Jatt are in full control there.’

  ‘My aunt’s son-in-law Vazeera of Kotli Loharan sent a letter through someone. Wrote that with God’s grace, might is right in jail, too. Of course it’s forbidden, but those who know how have amassed guineas there as well. Let’s see how our Amira fares.’

  ‘Najibeya, he’s the bravest; a man’s man amongst you brothers!’

  ‘True, Shahji, his chest is like a mountain and his way is wilful! Once he gets it in his head to do something, he will do it come what may!’

  Shahji considered it necessary to applaud such a brave one. ‘No doubt! Our Amira is large-hearted and brave, a true son of his caste. God willing, he should complete his sentence and return home.’

  ‘May your words come true, Shahji! It is heard that the government has brought out a new legislation for Kalapani prisoners. If a convict earns twelve to thirteen hundred points or so in a year, his sentence for a serious crime will be reduced.’

  Kashi Shah calculated, ‘Even if he earns two or three marks a day, the homecoming isn’t far off!’

  Despite his fearsome build, Najiba suddenly looked like a frisky kitten. ‘Shahji, then this is just like a game! If one doesn’t go to school, he goes to Kalapani. That grandson of the Kalapani family of Khariyan has returned with great fanfare. He didn’t come home straight to his village, but stopped on the way at Amritsar. When he reached the pind after restoring his health, onlookers feasted their eyes!’

  Shahji thought to himself, how to tell this innocent Jatt that Kalapani rots the body and soul from within forever.

  Kashi Shah asked his brother, ‘Since when are the Khariyanwalas called the Kalapani family?’

  ‘This is now a well-known incident. The great-grandfather of these boys, Nazar Muhammad, son of Dil Muhammad, had proved his mettle in Dhur Kot Kamaliya in the maharaja’s times. A bull of a man, famous far and wide, the whole area resounded with songs of his bravery. Bas ji, when Maharaja Ranjit Singh heard of his feats, he made him the head of a battalion. He led many assaults in the army. When the firangi hukumat rule established its
elf in Punjab, it targeted all our braves one after another. They caught Nazar Muhammad too, implicated him in false cases of dacoity and murder and sent him to Kalapani. It is his clan, the Kalapani family.’

  Najiba’s eyes glowed like lamps. ‘Waah, now that is something!’

  ‘Nazar Muhammad and Sarwarshah of Noorpur took help of the Punjabi convicts at Andaman jail and hatched a plot to kill the British jailor. Baas, he became famous.’

  Najiba chuckled. ‘Shahji, this is just like our game of gulli-danda: defeat or be defeated, run or make them run. In truth, there’s just one way to an easy life. Live like the government’s son-in-law, and eat their rotis in peace. As for the rest, with some influence, a fellow can make do one way or another even in jail!’

  ‘Najiba, the day has risen to its knees! Go upstairs and have some buttermilk.’

  Najiba stood up. ‘I forgot the real purpose of my visit in all this talk. So, Shahji, if you sanction a loan, the well will be completed.’

  Chhote Shah reassured, ‘Bring Habiba with you in the evening.’

  His brother, the older Shah spoke, ‘Listen to me carefully, Najiba. A tripartite ownership of one well is not practical. Even if you do it, it won’t work out.’

  ‘Shahji, but how else do we solve this problem? No money in hand! Whatever I had is already spent.’

  ‘Najiba, where a hundred, there a hundred and twenty-five. Come tomorrow morning and take the money,’ Shahji said.

  ‘May your earnings grow thousand-fold, Shah Sahib, may Rabb give you plenty!’

  Najiba walked on air all the way home. When he told Habiba, his brother called out excitedly to his wife, ‘Make a thick ghee-soaked roti and bring buttermilk sprinkled with sugar.’

  Later Kashi Shah said, ‘Bhraji, we were better off with three brothers. They could have at least repaid the debt.’

  Shahji smiled with the wisdom of an elder brother. ‘Kashiram, will this sum ever return?’ He calculated upon his fingers and laughed. ‘Land can be recovered from such a family, but never money!’

  ‘Bhraji, but why would the Jatt farmer part with his land? And now they also have the law on their side.’

  ‘They wouldn’t. Ever. But, Bhagatji, one has to plan and scheme to make them part with it.’

  A tiny line furrowed Kashi Shah’s brow. ‘Najiba-Habiba’s work is done. But what will Kakku Khan do now? Will he survive just by looking to these brothers?’

  ‘No. And when he starts to thrash about, we will deal with him as well!’

  ‘Faujiyon, mubarakein! Congratulations upon your homecoming, brave soldiers! Beloved badshaho, you are showing your faces after an absence of three whole years! Your hearts must’ve been merry in your batallions! Fortunate ones, may you enjoy good luck always!’

  ‘Jahandadji, our eyes grew tired watching the road, waiting for you. Did you get so fond of the fair-skinned ones that you didn’t feel like returning home?’

  ‘Chacha Muhammadin, just know this, the day my leave was sanctioned, I left for home.’

  Jahandadji presented his friend to the gathering. ‘Badshaho, this is my dear friend, Sahib Khan. He is also from 40 Punjabi Platoon. We have been together for years. Our induction into the army was also on the same date, at the same place. I submit that one should learn true friendship from these Shahpurias!’

  Karm Ilahi was pleased to see the tall, well-built man. He pointed out, ‘Badshaho, the riches of friendships are many, but puttarji, this Shahpuri turban of yours is a little unsettling to the eye!’

  Sahib Khan promptly bowed. ‘Janaab, I will place it at your feet if you so command!’

  Shahji started laughing. ‘Enough Ji, that was just to ward off the evil eye. And by His grace, these two friends match so well, just looking at them soothes the eye.’

  Mauladadji was overjoyed to hear praises of his younger brother and his friend. ‘Ji sadke, ji sadke!’

  Ganda Singh added spice by saying, ‘Why, dear riflemen, you have returned home after so long. Do you recognize your home and village or not?’

  Jahandadji broke out in appreciative laughter. ‘My good men, you are 33 Punjab. And we are 40 Punjab! Not much difference, is there? And as you know, faujis may set off to roam the whole wide world. But before leaving, they tie their hearts in a bundle and hang them on a branch of the oldest tree in their village.’

  ‘Subhan Allah! Waah-waah, what a beautiful thing to say!’

  Shahji also showered praise on Jahandadji. ‘When a beloved son of the village leaves behind his heart and soul on a branch of the tree, then come winter or summer, the villagers always remember their brave men. Kyon Fateh Aliji, not a lie, is it?’

  ‘Absolutely. The way one airs good clothes in the sun, so one airs the memories of friends and loved ones.’

  Taya Maiyya Singh also came up with a gem. ‘Listen to me as well: the heart that is fed on the grain and water of this soil is purer than pure gold. Air it or not, sun it or not, no heart will ever rust here. Case shut. File closed.’

  Overjoyed, the two friends jumped up and snapped a soldier’s salute to Taya Maiyya Singh, and Taya’s heart flowered into a soft cotton ball. ‘May you enjoy the earnings of a hundred harvests! Maiyya Singh will pray for you every day in the Vaheguru’s darbar!’

  Shahpuria Sahib Khan sat enjoying the banter, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

  Kriparamji arrived, bringing Kokla Mirasi along with him. ‘Shahji, let’s have a song in honour of our returned fauji warriors first …’

  Ganda Singh jumped up and grabbed Kriparam by the neck. ‘Oye, you enemy mine, why didn’t you present a Mirasi to sing my fame when I returned to the village?’

  ‘Fauji Bahadur, when you arrived, the gunshots fired from the rooftops were heard by the entire village.’

  ‘Listen to this cheeky mule’s talk! The rifle was mine, shots mine and yaara, only the wind blowing in the sky was yours!’

  Kriparam folded his hands in guilt. ‘Forgiveness, forgiveness for this sin! Why should I lie, Singh Bahadur, only the joy overflowing the heart was mine that day!’

  ‘Bas oh bas, now don’t speak a truth truer than this.’

  Shahji looked towards Sahib Khan. ‘Badshaho, if you permit, Kokla will sing.’

  Sahib Khan nodded. ‘Ji.’

  Kriparam called out to Kokla, ‘Chal oye Kokley, let’s have it! Sing something rousing for these bravehearts in uniform!’

  ‘As you wish, badshaho!’

  ‘The village bows to the chowkidar

  Chowkidar to the lambardar

  Lambardar to the ahalkar

  Ahalkar to the sarkar

  Sarkar to the sword

  Sword to the sipahsalar

  Sipahsalar to the victory sword

  Victory sword to the badshah

  Badshah to the one true shah!’

  The gathering showered praises on the singer. ‘Waah oh waah, puttar Kokley! When did you string this verse?’

  ‘Today itself, my kings. I thought the soldiers of the British army might have reached our homes. This calls for some strong preparation.’ Kokla saluted and spread his jholi before them. On a nod from Shahji, Bagga put in a piece of jaggery and Jahandadji and Sahib Khan put in a taka each.

  ‘Shah Salamat. By the grace of Rabb-Rasool, let our warriors return home laden with honour and glory every time!’

  Jahandadji lauded Kokla, saying, ‘That was some impressive rhyming. It shows that the Miras of our pind have come of age.’

  Guruditt Singh laughed. ‘I say, Cantonment Sahib, Kokla deserved a prize for sure, but I heard this great kavitt last year at Gurudwara Nankana Sahib.’

  Kashi Shah interjected tactfully: ‘You must have heard the words. But if you ask me, Kokla sang with great feeling. One who can make clear the distinction between badshah and Sachche Patshah through song surely has some ability and learning, wouldn’t you say?’

  Mauladadji liked this. ‘Waah-waah! Indeed, why not!’

  Guruditt Singh and Mauladad had also gone to
be recruited, but when they failed the fitness exam, their dreams of joining the army were shattered. Guruditt Singh wistfully said, ‘If we had been in the police or army, we too would have returned home with the same honour and pride.’

  Kriparam reasoned, ‘Khalsaji, it is not good to have such unrealistic desires and dreams at this age. By His grace, son Prithi Singh is also serving the army.’

  ‘Which company platoon does our boy belong to?’ Jahandadji asked.

  ‘Labana of 33 Punjab, it is camping in Jhelum cantonment these days. Jahandadji, you too belong to the Jatt Rasala, don’t you?’

  ‘Na Ji! Our regiment is 40 Punjab, a well-known platoon. No caste that doesn’t find a place in it. Jatt, Rajput, Bunerwal, Swati, Gilzai, Durrani, Bajauri, Bhattani, and even Gorkha are included in it.’

  Kashi Shah said, ‘The newspapers say the Sarkar is making all efforts to overpower the Kabailis.’

  ‘Ji. Many roads and cantonments have been laid and established, but these Baloach Kabailis just can’t be contained. Cruel to the core! Sahib Khan, remember when these Mahsoodias had fired on the Zob Garrison?’

  ‘Actually that happened the same year that Mian Pavinda’s caravan was advancing towards Khurasan through the Gomal Pass. It was the month of Baisakh. The caravan had stopped to rest. Camels were being unloaded. Fires were lit and food was being prepared, when these death-dealing Vazeeries attacked. They took away seventy camels, and whoever came forward to resist was killed on the spot.’

  Kashi Shah was reminded of the business newspaper. ‘Wasn’t it the time when the government had slapped a million rupees fine on the Mahsoodias?’

  ‘Ji, the very same.’

  ‘Badshaho, do personal enmities also get settled in the army?’ Guruditt Singh asked.

  ‘Certainly. You know, this disease goes everywhere with man. Last year, Nayak Bhatt of Gujranwala was shot dead by Lance Nayak Virk.’

  ‘Virks and Bhattis have been enemies since long. They both hail from Bikaner and Bhatner.’