‘Now listen to the laam-ghodi, war song to the son.’ Rabeyan sang in her rich full voice:
‘The royal order was passed,
The war bugle was sounded,
My handsome lad went to Basra.
Return victorious, my son
You are our pride and glory
Come with your chest and shoulders
Decorated, your forehead
Aglow with commendations
Your mother’s lap is blessed
Awarded richly by the king
Your lands abound
Everywhere, your fame resounds.’
‘Daughter Rabeyan, what a beautiful, joyful laam-ghodi you have composed!’
‘Live long, my child, live long! Sadke jaoon. Do sing it once more, my heart will know peace.’
Reshma flung her arms around Rabeyan’s shoulders. ‘Mahiya, sing the other one which you sang for Jagtar’s sister.’
Chachi Mehri stopped her. ‘Na ri, that song brings tears to the eyes.’
Sajad Bibi shook her head. ‘Chachi, let her sing. Let me remember him, the piece of my heart gone far. When mothers and sisters shed tears of longing for their sons and brothers gone to war, our sons know that they are loved and remembered.’
Shirin said, ‘Sing the very same one, of diamonds and jewels.’
‘Mother’s darling
Father’s dearest
Sister’s beloved
Brother’s best friend
Sweetheart’s lover
May garlands of victory
Adorn your forehead
My precious son
May pearls and jewels
Adorn your wedding sehra
May your family thrive and extend
To your children’s children’s children
May your family tree grow
May your lands blossom
Your crops ripen into gold
Your granaries overflow.’
Mothers, sisters, housewives and sad young girls spoke His name and wiped their tears in silence. Sajad Bibi caressed Rabeyan’s head and said lovingly, ‘May the pirs, fakirs protect our sons and beloveds. And may we keep listening to your songs and couplets to ease the long waits.’
Shahni asked Husaina, ‘Got any message or letter from your son?’
‘I got a message, Shahni, now let’s see when his letter comes.’
Chachi Mehri, who was sitting on the cot sifting broken rice, said, ‘God bless the postman who brings news of our sons’ safety from across the seas!’
Rasooli’s mother proudly announced, ‘The laat has ordered that the sons of zamindars can deposit their land taxes from their platoon itself.’
‘Sister, British administrators do not lack in intelligence. Shurli’s mother, your son is in the police force, isn’t he?’
‘As good as the army, you could say. The government has also sent a few police contingents to war. Shurli has gone with them.’
Fakira’s mother Karbhari shook her head. ‘I say, there are plenty in the army to fight with shells and ammunition, but who is there to hurl abuse at the enemy? Our Punjab Police is the best and foremost in spewing abuses, is it not?’
‘What you say is right, Bebe, wars and battles aren’t fought with just guns and spears. Until the enemy has faced a good, heavy dose of abuse, how will his heart burn and how will he lose his head?’
The girls looked at Bebe Karbhari and smiled at each other. Chachi Mehri ingenuously said, ‘I say, abuses have a force of their own, strong enough to cleave a stone. And Bebe Karbhari doesn’t have a small packet, she is a full bundle herself. Actually, the Sarkar should have sent you to war instead, Bebe. Cannon shells and guns from that side, and kilo-heavy abuses from our side. Then see what happens to the enemy!’
Bebe Karbhari started laughing. ‘Mahiya, make fun of me all you like, but as much as abuses can hurt, they can express love too. If your heart burns, vent with a few choice abuses, and you will know instant peace. And if Pir Sahib Himself abuses his men, then destiny’s doors will open for even the most luckless!’
‘That is right, Bebe, abuses get you where it hurts most.’
‘Fatima, has Nadir’s money order come?’
‘May Khudavanda Karim always look kindly; two have come so far. Chachi, he was in a hurry, but still the boy went to Sheikh Saddo and lit a lamp there. He also managed to go and worship at Gujrat’s patron saint, Wali Shahdaula Pir before boarding the train.’
‘God keep him safe.’
Lah Bibi came and stood with a pot of buttermilk in the crook of her arm. The pride of a soldier’s mother shone on her brow. ‘Recruits get a raise of fifteen rupees a year, and fifteen rupees as war allowance. Daughter, how much did Gauhar send?’
‘Bebe, ten than less hundred. After all, the children also have to have some. Must be keeping five, ten rupees for themselves.’
‘Sarkar is generous with food and drink. Every jawan gets milk, fruits and eggs. Roti and curry also in good quantities.’
Sajad Bibi was sceptical. ‘Bebe, who would spend so much on their armies!’
‘Na ri na, Sarkar is not doing them a favour. It has to make its warriors strong in order to fight the war. Even provides them tobacco and booze.’
‘Ari behna, if they get it for free, our sons will also lie about drunk and useless like the Singh Labanas.’
‘Na ri, army routine and discipline is more backbreaking than the jails. If the children take a swig or two during war, where’s the harm?’
Najam Bibi came up the stairs. ‘I have come to ask for some medicine, Shahni. Saifu’s Nikka has got loose motions. I thought you must have kept some gripe water or something for Lali Shah.’
Shahni got up and put some riyond, harad, zeharmohra, majoo, kachoor and nirmasi in a small clay pot and handed it over. ‘Grind these together and give it to him once or twice a day. It will definitely bring relief.’
‘Shardool’s bhabhi, our boy’s been sent to the Meerut cantonment, hasn’t he?’
‘Yes, Shahni, he is there for the time being. Can be asked to proceed any time.’
Sajad Bibi said, ‘I’ve heard that diphtheria spread among the camels in the army.’
‘No worries. Sarkar doesn’t lack for anything. If not horses, then camels, if not camels then dachis, if not dachis then ponies!’
‘Boota’s father had gone to the cantonment to see off our son. He has brought news that the Punjab governor has announced that the Sarkar will allocate ten thousand murabbas, plots of land, as rewards for bravery.’
‘In the army one is well-appreciated.’
Pleased at the mention of rewards, the women thanked God. ‘May Rabb be kind, and all our sons return home safe and sound. No shortage of gifts and murabbas then! Whether the son returns or gets jagirs in reward, it is one and the same.’
Anxiety gnawed at their hearts as they thought of Jumman’s mother. Brave as a lion, a lad in his prime, and finished in a few months. No sooner had he stepped ashore than a bullet found him! To each his own fate. Each heart knew turmoil for the life it had suckled.
Boota’s mother stood up. ‘I got so involved in the plastering today that I even forgot to go and pray. The new ragi at the dharmshala sings prayers most beautifully. If I listen to him for an hour or two, my mind stays centred.’
Chachi said, ‘Every home has at least one son, one child in the battlefield. How can a mother’s heart know peace?’
Chachi dozed off, cotton in hand. Chhoti Shahni leaned towards her jithani and softly said, ‘Thank God jethi, if our children, too, had reached our shoulders by now, would they hold back from going to the war? I pray daily that by the time our children grow up, this cruel war is over and done with.’
‘You are right, Bindradayi, if our children had gone to war, I wouldn’t have lived. Kashiram was telling his brother yesterday that Hako of Rupochak had sent two sons to the war. When one was wounded, she sent the third one too. It is heard that the Punjab governor is really pleased and has sent a
letter of commendation to Hako.’
‘There are many more like Hako. Yesterday, Sajad Bibi was saying that everyone is talking about Sharifan of Chakwal. The Jatti has sent all her five sons to the war, you know. If someone asks the half-wit, even the Sarkar allows one son to be exempt. If you yourself come forward and offer yourself to the government, why would the firangis refuse?’
Rabeyan saw Chachi dozing and gathered the cotton to put it away. Shahni said, ‘Rabeyan, go check on Lali if he hasn’t gone to the stables. God knows where the boy’s got it from – he is happiest around the horses.’
‘Must have been a horse dealer in his past life!’
As Rabeyan descended the stairs, Shahni said softly to her devrani, ‘Your jeth listens to the girl’s compositions as if flowers fall from her mouth, not words.’
‘Jithani, it’s the same with your devar! The girl too, bless her, is brighter than bright. Whatever book she lays her hands on, she reads. If you listen to Lali, he tells such extraordinary stories! This sirmunni is the one who teaches him.’
When she saw clouds hovering on Shahni’s brow, Bindradayi said peaceably, ‘Don’t worry. These Arais have Rabb’s gift. Growing sweet, succulent greens and vegetables from the earth, even their souls grow fresh and verdant. Other girls also spin rhymes now and then, but this girl is truly unique. She can play with words at will, and her voice is so pure, so deep that one could just keep floating on those waters.’
‘Bindradayi, tell my devar to find a good groom for her hand in marriage. She is no longer a child.’
Mitthi’s fate revealed her hand when a marriage proposal came out of the blue. Mitthi’s maternal cousin, Gunkauran arrived one evening. Dismounting her horse, she exchanged greetings with everyone and ran a loving hand on the children’s heads. ‘Mausi, is all fine and well?’
‘Daughter Gunkauran, no letter, no message. How did you happen to suddenly come this way? Are your in-laws well? And how is our son-in-law? There is a man accompanying the horse, isn’t there?’ Mitthi’s mother asked.
‘Mausi, God is merciful. I have not come without permission. Let me catch my breath, I will tell you everything.’
Mitthi’s mother seated her sister’s daughter on a cot. ‘Main sadke. Mitthi, bring buttermilk for your sister.’
‘Mausi, wait. My sister- and mother-in-law have insisted that I shouldn’t have a drop to drink until I have spoken to you!’
‘Hain ri, what is all this about?’
Rummaging through her bundle of clothes, Gunkauran took out a sagun of dried coconut and dates from a red pouch and said, ‘Here, Mausi, take this, spread your jholi.’
‘Don’t talk in riddles now, speak up.’
Gunkauran laughingly said, ‘Call Bebe too. Bebeji, please come here a moment. I have something to discuss with you.’
When Gunkauran stood up and exchanged Ramsatt, Bebe showered blessings on her. ‘Gunkauran, happy and content, I hope! Are your in-laws well? And my son-in-law? How did my daughter head this way today?’
‘Bebe, congratulations, badhaiyyan! I have come with a proposal for Mitthi.’
‘God be praised!’
Vanto retorted, ‘What’s this, Gunkauran, you didn’t breathe a word before, nor asked anything!’
‘Mausi, one shouldn’t think too much before such auspicious tasks. My jithani raised the topic casually this evening at dinner. Jethji nodded yes, and by the time I finished my meal, he had the mare and the man ready. Why brook delays in shagun-shastra?’
Vanto stopped her with a hand. ‘Wait a minute, Gunkauran, but who is the boy? Your devar?’
‘No, my jethji’s son.’
‘But dhiye, he is the only son of the family. No brothers, no sisters. A house should always be full. Gunkauran, your family is too small.’
‘Bebe, don’t dismiss it offhand. The boy may be an only child, but he is handsome, tall and healthy. Just seeing him whets one’s appetite. And then he has studied upto class ten. Aunt, please call my uncle. I have orders from home that I should eat only if it is a yes, not otherwise.’
‘Wait, don’t say yes or no right now. Let my son arrive.’
The grandmother felt an onrush of love for her granddaughter. ‘Gunkauran, the girl is no less either. She takes care of all the housework. Rest, as to her looks, what can I say? Parents give birth, and Rabb bestows beauty.’
‘Bebe, Mitthi is my sister too. My in-laws also considered the family first. My jithani said, “Gunkauran, your family has a tradition of beauty. If we get your aunt’s daughter, our house will celebrate forever.”’
Bebe laughed. ‘Don’t mind, Gunkauran, but your clan is quick to fight. Ari, will we get along?’
‘Bebe, they are not bad of heart. They are outspoken. Once they get something in their heads, then everything happens quicker than quick. See, I still had a plate in my hand when they sent the mare.’
When Mitthi’s father, Jioon Das heard, he promptly sought the Shahs’ counsel. He discussed the matter with Shahji, came home, and called out his congratulations, ‘Gunkauran, badhaiyyan!’
‘Badhaiyyan, ji, badhaiyyan!’
A bashful Mitthi ran and hid in the pasaar. Bebe sweetened everyone’s mouth with jaggery. Went inside, took out the salu wedding cloth, kept some money for sagun on it and put them in Gunkauran’s lap. ‘Here, take this, daughter. Rabb has decreed this union. They are joined by fate, what else!’
Next morning, the neighbouring women gathered in the house and took up wedding songs of suhaag. Gunkauran kissed Mitthi’s forehead and spat on her palm to ward off the evil eye. Said Ramsatt to Bebe and Vanto in greeting. ‘If you hadn’t said yes,’ she said softly to Vanto, ‘I would have had no face to show before my in-laws. But Rabb was kind!’
Mitthi’s brothers put rupees of sagun in pots of mishri and handed them to Gunkauran, saying, ‘What are we compared to them! They are blessed with wealth, name and prestige. Tell the boy’s parents, our samdhis, that by looking our way, they have bestowed honour on ordinary folks like us.’
Gunkauran hugged Mitthi and taking her chin in her hand, said, ‘A house may never have enough of such beautiful daughters. Lamps light up wherever they go.’ She mounted her horse, folded her hands in respect, and said laughingly, ‘Start the preparations! My people will want an early wedding.’
‘What’s the hurry? There is so much to do before a girl’s wedding!’
‘Bebe, the faster this burden is shed, the better it is for her parents. By Rabb’s grace, the boy’s got his orders from the army.’
Mitthi’s folks got busy getting things ready. Triyori dupattas were sent for trimming with gold lace. Mitthi’s dadi was anxious about the embroidered phulkari wrap, ‘I say, Vantiye, the wave pattern on the border still remains to be done, and one-fourth of the shells. I’ll rest the spinning wheel for a few days and finish the phulkari quickly!’
Mitthi was beseeched by her friends. ‘Come now, tell us, tell all!’
‘What do I tell? I don’t know anything!’
‘Oh, don’t pretend so, we’re not fools! Gunkauran is your aunt’s daughter. Wouldn’t she have told you before leaving?’
‘Bebe, tell us the boy’s name at least. We will compose such sitthanis that the city folk won’t know where to hide their faces!’
‘Ari, he has a name beautiful and sweet – Mehtab Chand!’
Channi linked her arms round Mitthi’s neck. ‘Mitthiye, then you are sure to be called “Mehtab Kaur” at your in-laws’. Bebe, where do they live?’
‘At Duggals of Lakhanwal.’
‘That’s it, Mitthiye, you are going to become a sophisticated city woman. And then you won’t recognize your village friends any longer!’
Congratulations on Mitthi’s engagement were still pouring in when the horoscopes were read and the wedding date fixed. Songs of suhaag began to resound throughout the house. When mother Vanto grew tearful, Mitthi’s grandmother would console her. ‘I say, Vantiye, daughters are contained in the womb, not in the bod
y. They have to depart for separate homes sooner or later.’
A huge karhai was put on the fire, and the making of sweets began. People started to arrive. Mitthi sat for the Maiyan ceremony, her beautiful face radiant even in the old clothes she wore. Her grandmother was exacting in observing the ceremonial routine. ‘Come now, seven married women whose husbands are living, come and rub turmeric ubtan on the girl’s body,’ she commanded. ‘Behan, bharjaaee, mausi, phoophi, chachi and tai, now we need one more.’
Barkati laughed and said, ‘Can I come?’
Shahni and Chachi held their breath. Hai ri, what has this playful one asked, when Dadi replied, ‘Of course, who better than you! Tarey Shah’s son is in your womb! Come!’
The women sang suhaag sweetly, and wept as they remembered their homes:
‘My dolls lie scattered everywhere
But I don’t want to play
My friends are left behind, Father
My in-laws celebrate
My mother’s eyes are never dry
My father weeps rivers
My brother weeps, the world weeps with him
My sisters-in-law rejoice.’
Mitthi’s friends wept copiously. Shano hugged Channi. ‘Ari, don’t fall sick with longing; you, too, will leave home soon.’ She asked Mitthi, ‘You have sent a mare to fetch Doddo, haven’t you? Good if she comes, she’s your best friend.’
Mitthi went and sat inside with her friends, away from the elders. She held Channi’s hand and said in a low, worried voice, ‘He has studied up to class ten, and I, nothing. I had reached the thirty-fifth letter of the alphabet at the dharamshala, then forgot everything. I am really worried now!’
‘What is past is past. Now it amounts to the same as digging a well when thirsty. Rabeyan, why don’t you teach her something quickly?’
Rabeyan laughed. ‘Even if Maulviji and Pandaji teach her day and night, it would still be difficult.’
‘Let it go then. Whenever you come here, get Rabeyan to write your letters. Rabeyan is both learned and deep. She could run such rings round a tenth-pass that the whole night would pass in just seh harfi, the stringing of three-letter words.’
Rabeyan said nothing. Only looked at them in silence.
Zindaginama Page 39
