Shekhar and the doctor are talking. To the right, behind the cover of a screen, lies Shashi; and between the doctor and the screen stands his aunt, with one hand left holding on to the screen, as if stuck in a dilemma about whether she should have been behind the screen or on the outside.
‘There are definitely several injuries to her abdomen. We will have to be very careful. It isn’t very serious, but you know that there is a risk that internal injuries can become septic.1 I am prescribing some medicines, and complete bed rest is absolutely necessary, and she shouldn’t eat any solid food.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The doctor bends down to write the prescription; from behind the screen come the sounds of the rustling of the bed as Shashi gets up—
His aunt asks, ‘And her back pain—’
‘That will get better on its own—the fall has caused spasms—’ Then after a little thought, ‘Where does it hurt?’ and he stands up straight; Shekhar is the only one left looking at the screen.
‘Here? Here? And if you can bend over a little—’ And then in a different tone, ‘Oh . . .’
The scene returns to its prior arrangement, his aunt’s hand is on the screen like before, the doctor is standing in front of Shekhar, but there is a different face.
‘Well, doctor—’
The doctor looks at Shekhar gravely and says, ‘Are you the husband?’
‘No, she’s my sister.’
‘Oh, please forgive me. And is this the mother?’
Turning to face his aunt, ‘Madam, does she live with you?’
Shekhar answers, ‘No, she lives with her in-laws. We just brought her to you for an examination—why, what’s the matter?’
The doctor goes quiet. After a while, as if he’s thinking something, deciding something, he says, ‘Madam, the injury to her back is not an injury from falling.’
‘And?’
The doctor’s silence seems to say, ‘I have many children of my own. I know what you must be going through—’
His aunt turns around to ask, ‘Shashi, don’t you remember how you got this injury?’
Shashi doesn’t speak; as if deciphering her silence, the doctor says, ‘I’ll give you an ointment for this injury; apply it gently with a warm compress.’ Then after a moment of hesitation, to Shekhar in English, ‘It’s not accidental; it’s a deliberate blow. The kidney is fractured.’2
Shekhar also asks in English, ‘Is it dangerous?’
‘No, but irreparable.’
‘What treatment would you advise?’
‘Rest and endurance—and courage. Chiefly courage.’
The doctor realizes that continuous conversation in English isn’t reassuring, so he turns to Aunt Vidyavati and says, ‘Complete rest is absolutely necessary—get this prescription filled at the dispensary—it will be necessary to see her again in two or three days—’ as if he were advising that instead of bringing the patient in that he could be called out—
Rameshwar’s flat was on the second floor, Shashi’s body was taut like a bowstring from the reverberating insult, readied like a bow; Rameshwar’s face in front, an inanimate wall about to break and fall after its foundation has been shaken, and two more walls behind it that won’t fall because they are already ruined and have become heaps of rubble from years of mould . . .
Wiping the ashes that her mother-in-law has thrown into her eyes, Shashi says, ‘If this is the final decision that you all have come to, then—’
She folds her hands and bows her head slightly, a few particles of ash cascade down from her head, brush her hands, and fall to the floor, she turns around, one step ahead of her are the stairs, she takes one step down—
The scythe shrieks, ‘Look at this shamelessness—’
The wall falls to pieces from the grating of the scythe. Rameshwar leaps forward and a sandal-clad kick lands on Shashi’s back, ‘Whore!’
The bow is stretched again and in reaction, the echo of warning grows louder, ‘I won’t accept my last gift from you with my back turned, you can give it to me now—’ and another wall rises in front of the crumbling wall, a wall which is supple like the bow and will therefore never crumble—
The scythe grinds its teeth frenetically, ‘Hit her, hit her one more time—’
When the kick strikes her in the stomach, Shashi lets out a ‘Unh!’ but stays there. The scene goes dark in front of her eyes. Bracing herself against the wall, she turns around to leave now that she has had her initial meeting—
Aunt’s voice comes from the back of the buggy, ‘What was the doctor saying in English—’
Turning, ‘Nothing much. He said that she really needs her rest. She needs to lie there quietly, otherwise things will get worse—’
Aunt asks Shashi, ‘How did you get hurt? Really, from falling—’
Shekhar turns farther around, ‘Aunt, does anyone ever injure their abdomen when they fall forward? And there’s nothing on her hands or face—’
Quietly, Shashi, ‘Let’s get home first—’
In the silence, only the driver’s clucking noises with his tongue or the occasional, ‘Coooo-ming through!’
Everything in the cupboard has been straightened up, actually everything has been reorganized twice already. Will Shashi and Aunt never finish their conversation, and would he have to stay outside forever?
And Shashi, who has penetrated his life like a truth—and he who has roared into Shashi’s life like a comet, would his aunt tolerate all of this—would she be able to tolerate it? The thing that Shashi was trying to save Aunt from by sacrificing herself, that thing was still near his aunt—
Shekhar turns the faucet on and takes the pots and pans and puts them under it. The splashes of cold water are a sort of comfort—
Eventually, his aunt calls to him from inside, ‘Shekhar!’ Shekhar wants to be able to decipher whether he has been found guilty, or was being called to give testimony or was acquitted altogether—and he now stands next to his aunt. His aunt looks up towards him, her expression is of a confused pain, and nothing else—‘Sit down.’
Shekhar sits down on the floor next to her.
‘What do you say about all of this?’
Unaware of what the issue is, Shekhar doesn’t speak.
‘I have been raised to believe that a woman’s husband is everything to her. A wife is also something to her husband, I know that, but I never learned to demand my rights the same way I learned to give them over, and now I’m old and can’t learn new things.’ There is no objection, accusation or command in her voice, merely a feeling of explanation—
‘Shashi says that there is no going back now. It’s not a question of wanting to or not, it’s a question of can or cannot. I went to see them before I came here.’
Shekhar was surprised, ‘How?’
‘They had sent a telegram and told me to come, which is why I’m here. They said that Shashi is dead to them, and that we were never a part of their lives. Her mother-in-law said that if she were to—forget it, what’s the use in repeating it—’
Shashi says, ‘Mother, they didn’t insult you, did they—what did they say—’
‘Why would people who kicked you out of the house leave any stone unturned in insulting me? They said they would rather eat cow’s flesh than let you into their home, home-wrecker, sigh—’
‘And then—’
‘And then what! There’s no going back there. But I don’t think it’s true that one has to go back to one’s in-laws to accept that your husband is still supreme. You can still honour your obligations without travelling on the path that your husband has closed for you.’ She was quiet for a while, then, ‘Shashi says that she won’t go back with me, and if she wants to go somewhere—’
Shekhar looks at Shashi without saying a word.
‘Mother, please don’t take it badly. I’m doing the right thing—’
‘Shashi says I should go back, and that I should do what her in-laws do and consider her dead—if not in my mind, then at
least in my actions.’
‘Why?’
Shashi gives the response. ‘Because why should Mother have to suffer for what I do? She’s already suffered greatly. Now she needs to live separately, she’s given me up after she’s married me off, so why should she be responsible for what happens now? And why should I let her—’
‘Aunt, I’m the worst one at fault here, I crashed into everything like a meteor and hurt everyone deeply—I—’
‘No, Shekhar, don’t try to be responsible for everything that was going to happen anyway—’ Then as if returning to the main issue, ‘Shashi thinks that I should stay out of it, and that she should suffer the punishment that she received at the hands of society by herself.’ She looks at Shekhar and doesn’t get a response, so she starts speaking again, ‘But how can I stay out of it? Wouldn’t it kill me, too, to cut off and throw away with my own hands that which I have created in my own body, which I have fed with my own blood? How can I ignore that—’
‘Mother, it won’t work to think like that. You’ve already agreed that I can’t go back—’ It’s the first time in the conversation that Shashi has got worked up. She says, ‘And to go back home with you and let you bear the hardships to come would not only be unbearable for me, but it makes everything I have done by getting beaten up so completely pointless that—’ And then composing herself, ‘And it’s not as if you will escape any problems that way.’ Then pausing for a while, ‘Yes, if you say that I shouldn’t live here, then—’
Shekhar speaks, ‘I should also have to pay for my mistakes. Whatever Shashi has to endure from society—’
‘I am not stopping her from staying here. If she’s not coming back with me, then this is the only other place she has. People used to say things to me, but I told them that the two of you were connected by a single vein—I’ve never thought of you as separate, Shekhar, even if according to society our relationship is next to nothing. If she stays here, it is just as good as if she stays with me—except for the fact that I am abandoning my child—not just Shashi, but both of you—’
Shekhar’s eyes begin to water. He wants to burst into tears, ‘Aunt, Aunt—Mother—’
‘Mother, if love comes from the heart, then abandonment comes from the heart, too. If you don’t abandon me—us—in your heart, then why should this cause you any pain? And—we, too—will never forget that—’
His aunt faces and looks at Shekhar and says, ‘And your father—what will I say to him—’ Her voice suddenly breaks. She puts her head down on the frame of the cot right in front of Shashi. Shashi hugs her shoulder with one arm and half hides herself in the extra length of her sari. Seeing his aunt’s thin frame shaking from some invisible dust storm, Shekhar starts crying without moving, too—then a new wisdom, rising from the ashes of memory and freshly bathed in the waters of the Ganges, announces that Shashi has not been defeated—
‘Take this, Shekhar—’
His aunt extends a single 100-rupee note. ‘I will send more later—’
‘Aunt, I—’
‘It’s not for you. It’s for Shashi—she’s still not well and—’
Embarrassed, ‘Aunt, this isn’t right—I will figure something out and then—’
Wounded, his aunt says, ‘Shekhar, I have been defeated by those who were to defeat me; I have been broken by those who were to break me—let me have something—’
‘Don’t be proud, Shekhar. Listen to me and take it—’
Shekhar slowly extends his hand, as if straightening up, and says, ‘When Shashi gets better, then no more—’ and to himself he thinks no more in any case—
‘God willing, that will happen very soon. There is no great joy ahead in the future, but her body needs the strength to endure sorrows—’
‘Mother, I’m doing well—’
Shekhar wants to say, ‘I will be with her—’
The sound of Aunt descending the stairwell interrupts this conversation. She is following Shekhar down the steps on her way to the train station.
‘Aunt, don’t worry—’
‘All right, Shekhar. Let’s see what God does.’ Turning towards Shashi, ‘Shashi, did I give birth to you so that this would happen?’ her voice trembles again . . . Suddenly, ‘Shekhar, did you really try and commit suicide?’
An embarrassed silence . . .
‘She was just a little girl when you smashed her forehead with a jug while you were both taking a bath. She lied then, too, to save you and said that she hurt herself—the naughty little imp has been taking your side since the beginning—’ There was such pride, such sweetness, in the pain-filled strain in her voice—but he hadn’t heard about this before, so he asks, ‘When, Aunt?’ And he thinks that he’s avoided the matter of his suicide—
Aunt begins to narrate, ‘When you were very young, the first time—’
The calm of evening, when the cold, accumulating smoke seeps into the soul by way of the eyes; in the room, the light of the lamp glows from where the lantern usually is, and Shekhar is quickly closing all the windows so that the cloudy, moist mass doesn’t settle in the room—Shashi is lying there quietly, her eyes are calm; she goes along with Shekhar effortlessly, and he knows—
‘Shashi, you are an awful liar.’
‘Why?’
‘Such a big lie? You didn’t tell me a single thing, but you told Aunt that you fell—such a lie! And what was the need—’
Confidently, Shashi says, ‘I don’t lie.’
‘But that wasn’t the truth, either—you kept your mouth shut with me, but—’
‘Shekhar, I believe that an unnecessary hurt is the greatest lie—what was the point in hurting your aunt even more? And when it comes to them—I don’t hold anything against them any more; they don’t even matter—’
‘And me—’
‘You! What do you—you slowly figure things out so why should I have to tell you?’
‘You still haven’t told me. Tell me honestly, how did you get hurt? Did someone hurt you?’
‘I wouldn’t have told your aunt either, but when she saw that I couldn’t sit up straight and that there was blood in my mouth, I had to tell her—’
‘Blood?’
Shashi’s tiny laugh was an admission of guilt, ‘Getting up and moving around made me vomit and there was blood—’
He suddenly unravels the mystery behind her sitting by the faucet. Completely stupefied, he says, ‘And you still stubbornly kept on working’—and then deeply offended—‘And you made me eat. Would I have died if I hadn’t eaten then—’
Shashi speaks in a voice to calm not only herself but others, too, ‘You told me that Baba said that there is a faith that is greater than pain—’
‘Yes, why?’
‘There is a helplessness that is greater than pain—as big as pain—otherwise life would always lose out in the face of pain.’
The truth of this claim slowly dawns on Shekhar. Thinking it over, he says, ‘Yes, I know—’ And then insistently and with a little disbelief, ‘You are such a liar—a master liar!’
‘Are you any less of a liar?’
‘Why, what did I do—’
‘I understand English, too, Shekhar. I don’t know much, but I what I do know, I know well. ‘Not dangerous, but irreparable!’ She smiles.
Shekhar is stunned into silence . . .
‘But Shekhar, I’m not scared. I have the medicines that the doctor prescribed—I have plenty of them—’
‘What—’
‘Endurance—and courage. Chiefly courage. Shekhar, I will get better and I’ll prove it when I can walk outside with you.’
The carriage is racing on. His aunt is headed to the station; Shekhar is going to see her off and is sitting beside her. He doesn’t understand it, but his heart overflows with affection for his aunt and he doesn’t know how to express it; he wants to hold his aunt’s hand until they reach the station—
‘Shekhar, will Shashi get better now?’
‘Why, Aunt? Why are y
ou afraid—’
‘I’m not afraid, Shekhar, I’m asking because you know her mind better than I do. And this is a question of her will—if she has the determination in her mind to get better, she will, and if not, then never. I know her—Shekhar, I have no problem in losing at the hands of my daughter!’
‘I have faith that she will get better soon—’
‘God willing—Shekhar, you won’t do anything stupid again, will you—’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve accepted a very important responsibility. You no longer have the right to consider suicide. You never did—life is always given to one as a promise and throwing it away is a betrayal—’
‘Aunt, I now have something that I have to do—’
‘You always did, Shekhar! You just didn’t see it—’
Shekhar becomes depressed all of a sudden and says, ‘If I really hadn’t come back home that day, then—none of this would have happened!’
‘You can’t blame yourself like that, Shekhar! And who knows if something even worse might have happened? Shashi might have still waited all night for you—and what happened the next morning would have still happened—because that was going to happen anyway, there was no way to avoid that; Rameshwar told me that—’ and suddenly she stopped!
‘What did he say, tell me—’
‘He said that—it’s nothing new, it was just news to have it confirmed, and the marriage was just an excuse to—Shekhar, I’ve heard and seen so much in these last three days!’
At the station, his aunt says, ‘You should go now, Shekhar. You don’t have to stay until the train leaves. I’ve found my seat. I will get back fine—’
‘No, Aunt, tell me what happened—’
‘You have to get back before it gets dark, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Don’t leave Shashi alone in the dark of evening—it’s a very sad time of day, especially in winter—’ Her hand starts patting Shekhar on the shoulder. Shekhar obeys and bows down in farewell, and his aunt brushes his hair with her fingers—‘Go, son—’ She chokes on her words and Shekhar knows that her compassionate blessings are not only for him, but for Shashi as well . . .
Shekhar Page 52
