One time, Aliya had tried to listen to what Abba was saying but she couldn’t understand a thing besides words like ‘freedom’, ‘Gandhi’ and ‘Azad’. She grew bored and moved away from the door. Safdar was quite interested in such things himself, and he’d sit and listen with his head bowed for hours. She’d stand behind the door and try by gestures to get Safdar’s attention, but to no avail. This would make her peeved with him. After all, Safdar was the only one who could cheer her up in those days.
She was quite familiar with Safdar’s story, as Amma liked to tell it frequently in a particularly haughty tone. One day, when she and Tehmina were sitting by Amma, Amma brought up the tale yet again:
‘Your cousin Safdar’s father was low-born—he was the son of a poor farmer. His father and grandfather worked on your grandfather’s lands, and they also performed chores for your grandfather’s household, like servants. Somehow these two wretches got into your grandmother’s good graces to the extent that no one even kept purdah from them in the house. And your grandmother’s temper was famous throughout the village. She was so severe when she got angry with a servant, she’d get a twisted rope and practically flay them alive. Oh my, what pride she had! What dignity! Everyone shuddered with fear in her presence, but she always addressed your cousin Safdar’s father and grandfather with kindness. That was what your grandmother was like—yet she spoke harshly to her own husband. May God have mercy on the deceased, but he did put your grandmother through much hardship too. He had two mistresses, who had three sons. Your grandfather built separate homes for his mistresses, but they didn’t have permission to enter your grandmother’s mansion. Yes, their children would come into the house, and your grandmother would call them by their names, adding “haraami”, or bastard, at the end. But in those days it wasn’t considered such a bad thing to keep mistresses, so your grandmother put up with all that. The mistresses only increased her prestige as the legitimate wife. All the work of managing the lands was entrusted to her as well, and she would have all the food and drink for the mistresses divided in front of her, then sent over to their homes.
‘Your grandmother also arranged all the marriages herself. She arranged the marriages of your father and uncles according to her wishes. She kept the daughters-in-law firmly under her thumb, but she was never cruel to me. I, like her, was the daughter of an important family; my brother was studying in England. And I commanded just as much respect as your grandmother. Your two older uncles’ wives wouldn’t say a peep before her. If ever your grandmother bowed before anyone, it was your youngest uncle. When the Khilafat Movement was going on, he travelled to Turkey. After that, no one knew what happened to him. Nonetheless your grandmother never shed a tear before anyone. She didn’t sigh once in remembrance of her son lest her dignity be diminished. But Allah had something else in store, as your aunt Salma, when she was fourteen, blackened your grandmother’s face. Your grandmother one day witnessed Salma Aunty with her own eyes, holding Safdar’s father’s hand, and whispering. That day she locked Salma Aunty up in her room and beat her black and blue. When I sat down to rub a turmeric poultice on her body, I trembled. All the same, this punishment was much too small for your Salma Aunty. She should have been buried alive.
‘The next day, she turned Safdar’s father and grandfather off the lands and called the Chamars and ordered them to beat them with shoes before everyone and throw them out of the village. That same day, in the evening, the barber’s wife came to call, wondering what terrible deed Safdar’s father and grandfather had committed to be beaten with shoes in front of everyone—the two of them had even left the village! When she heard the news, your grandmother puffed up with such pride that everyone trembled before her, but your Salma Aunty might as well have been dead. After all this happened, she stopped dressing properly and never touched a comb to her hair. Your grandmother kept her under watch at all times.
‘One day I saw your Salma Aunty in a very strange state. It was wintertime and she had gone out on the roof to sit in the sun. A pigeon sat near her on the roof cooing, and Salma was saying to it, “Oh, pigeon! You carry messages for princesses; have mercy on my plight and carry a message of mine as well. Tell him that Salma trembles in his absence.”
‘The pigeon just fluttered off, but I informed your grandmother of Salma’s shameless words. She patted my head affectionately and told me to make sure the other daughters-in-law didn’t hear about such things. But everyone did find out—God only knows whether that was an ordinary pigeon or a jinn.
‘That day, your grandfather went out of town somewhere and said he’d stay the night at a guest house. Before going to sleep that night, your grandmother locked the house up completely and hid the keys under her pillow. But when her eyes opened in the morning, both the bunch of keys and your Salma Aunty were missing. Your grandmother was dumbstruck. She glared at everyone as though to say, “If you say one word, I’ll bury you alive. I’ll set the dogs on you.” The next evening, when your grandfather returned, she spoke to him for a long time behind closed doors. When he came out his face was red with shame and anger.’
At this point in her tale, Amma remarked regretfully, ‘If only Salma had been my daughter! I would have fed her poison with my own hands right away!
‘Who knows what your grandfather would have done next, but your father had come that very day on leave, and he shamelessly quarrelled with his father on Salma’s behalf. My modesty was greatly offended. If only I hadn’t been married to your father. Your grandmother paced about angrily, but to shield your father from humiliation, she said nothing. And who knows what happened to your grandfather—he immediately had his mistresses turned out of their homes and ordered that they leave the village. When your grandmother found out, she demanded that only the mistresses go, but not their children, as they were her husband’s flesh and blood.
‘All three of the mistresses’ sons came to the house. My God, the sight of their faces disgusted me so! The two younger boys were so greedy that during the monsoon they sucked fruit from discarded mango pits contaminated by flies and died of cholera. Thank God they died, otherwise who knows, your father might have taken a liking to them and paid for their college education.
‘Salma ran off and eloped. Your grandfather did nothing openly, for fear of your father’s threats, but he made sure that Salma’s husband was fired from every job he took. He and Salma were starving to death. The truth is that they should have starved like dogs but your father let them die like humans. When Safdar was born, Salma came down with tuberculosis and passed away after much suffering a few days later.
‘When your grandmother heard news of Salma Aunty’s death, she somehow lost her own sense of shame. She beat her breast and fell to weeping at the death of her shameless daughter. I, on the other hand—I swear to God, not a tear fell from my eyes. I was staring at your grandmother in astonishment—she was sobbing and rolling around on the ground right in front of the servants! That very moment she wired all three of her sons. Your father and eldest uncle came running at the death of their disgraceful sister, but your middle uncle maintained the honour of all. He refused to come home just for the death of that wretch.
‘Your grandmother wept and wailed and then fell silent, but I no longer felt even one shred of respect for her, though I was forced to remain silent. Your father and eldest uncle went to the village where Salma lived, and when your father returned, he was carrying your vile cousin Safdar.
‘Salma hadn’t been dead forty days when your grandfather went to meet his Maker as well while prostrate in prayer. The whole house was being ruined right before our very eyes. None of the three sons liked living in that village, so they sold off the lands immediately to a nawab and returned to their jobs. If that property still existed, today I would be mistress in place of your grandmother, but such was not written in my fate. Now your grandmother is ailing, living off scraps from her eldest son, and the evil root from this whole crisis is ruining my life—it’s so awful!’
Whenever Amma told Tehmina this story she watched her closely, and Tehmina would look frightened and glance away. Amma wouldn’t say anything to Tehmina but she would instruct Aliya, ‘My darling, please do not spend too much time with that disgusting boy. His father and grandfather stole my kingdom from me.’
This admonition of Amma’s had absolutely no effect on Aliya. Instead it made her angry that Amma was always enraged at Safdar when he was so nice.
One day she even wanted to complain about Amma to Safdar, but when she went to him she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.
‘Safdar, I like you very much,’ she began.
‘Ah, then who is it that dislikes me?’
‘No one!’
And she ran quickly away.
Someone was rattling the chain on the door downstairs. She peeped out from under the quilt. The room was completely dark. She could hear her aunt’s voice.
‘It’s these horrible poets, why do these people leave their homes so late at night when it’s cold?’
It was thundering outside, and she couldn’t hear anything more.
‘By Allah,’ she thought, as she turned over restlessly, ‘I wish I could fall asleep!’
4
The canvas easy chairs had been arranged with a small table covered by a cloth embroidered by Tehmina. The maid was setting the tea things out on the table, while Amma delivered an endless stream of instructions.
Tehmina sprinkled water on the little henna plant, then came and sat near Amma. Safdar sat on the seat next to Abba. Aliya stood near Abba as well, but no one was paying any attention to her. They were all out of sorts. She placed her hand on Abba’s several times, but all he did was smile. Amma was staring hard at Safdar.
Tehmina drank her tea quickly as though she had some urgent business to attend to. But Aliya’s tea just sat there growing cold. She was so angry, she hadn’t even touched the cup. She felt extremely irritable. What kind of a home was this, where everyone just sat around looking angry? She wished they hadn’t come to this place. Since coming here, all she’d seen were angry faces, she thought. Now she felt more upset with everyone. She walked away from Abba and started to tear leaves off the henna plant.
‘Don’t you want any tea, dear?’ asked Abba.
She remained silent, radiating displeasure. She wanted to scream loudly, ‘I won’t drink it, what does anyone care if it goes cold, anyway?’
‘Why are you making a fuss?’ asked Amma sternly.
Aliya got up and followed Tehmina who was walking quickly towards her room.
‘Everyone here just frowns all the time!’ she complained sadly. ‘There aren’t even any girls here for me to play with and have fun.’
‘Oh, my, Aliya, you’re getting so big and you can’t even tell when there’s a fight going on in the house. That’s why everyone is sitting there silently. Amma and Abba had an argument this afternoon.’ That day for the first time Tehmina considered Aliya old enough to discuss things frankly.
‘Why did they argue?’
‘Oh, it’s just that Amma hates Safdar. As long as he stays in this house the fights will never end.’
In the semi-darkness of the room, Tehmina sat Aliya down by her side and began to whisper to her: ‘When Safdar was studying in class four—I was very small, but I remember everything—one time, Amma beat him very badly. When Abba found out, he was very angry with her and went away to Thakur Sahib’s house. Thakur Sahib managed to reason with Abba somehow and sent him back home. Ever since then Amma has hated Safdar even more. How shameless he is! Safdar won’t leave, even though he could earn money now. I remember well the servant lady would give Safdar spoilt leftover food in the summer on Amma’s instructions. And she mixed tons of water into the small amount of milk she gave him to drink, and cut the scraps from the meat and ground it up and made him keema out of that. But Safdar never complained to Abba. One day, for some reason, Abba sat down to examine Safdar’s food. After that he began to have Safdar eat by his side. But even so, Safdar has always been in poor health.’
‘What? Scraps are fed to dogs! Remember our little dog, Tommy, Tehmina? How we used to boil the scraps and give them to him?’ Aliya said this just for the sake of it, but Tehmina began to sob and Aliya was so astonished that she stopped speaking.
‘Don’t talk to Safdar too much,’ said Tehmina quickly, wiping away her tears, and then she began to laugh.
Aliya paid Tehmina’s instructions no mind, and went outside. Everyone was still sitting there listlessly, as before; the sound of the call to prayer came from somewhere far off.
‘Safdar, should we go out for a walk?’ she asked, without looking at Amma, but Safdar remained totally silent.
‘Get her enrolled in school now, otherwise she’s just going to wander around idly like this,’ observed Amma tartly.
‘I’ll find out about it; I’ve heard there’s only a mission high school here, and only English is taught there, and it’s a mission school for teaching their religion. I’m strongly opposed to such schools run by the English. They take as much advantage of our slavery as they can.’
‘You’re just against the English—you’ll work for them but you won’t let your daughter study in their schools! Only your sister and your nephew are allowed to study in this family! One of your daughters was only allowed to study up to class ten and now she just sits around the house—and this one’s ruined her with all the absurd books of stories and tales he’s given her. And now you want to sacrifice the other one to your hatred for the English!’ Amma was furious.
Aliya glanced anxiously over at Safdar. He was the one who had given Tehmina those books. Safdar looked flustered and rushed off to his room, and Abba leant back in his chair and closed his eyes. He looked so wounded at that moment.
Aliya went outside, fearing a fight. There were two easy chairs on the terrace in front of the sitting room. She sat on one and began to swing her legs. She could hear someone singing a hymn to Krishna and playing the harmonium in the two-storey house:
Oh, where has my Shyam gone, will nobody tell me?
I searched all of Kashi, I searched Brindavan
It’s evening now in Gokul
Oh, where has my Shyam gone, will nobody tell me?
Aliya quietly repeated the verses to herself. She really liked to sing, but she never even mentioned it for fear of Amma. She’d always heard Amma say that girls from respectable homes did not sing.
Evening began to fall as she sat on the terrace. The temple bells were ringing and flocks of birds chirruped loudly in the trees as they settled down for the night. A herd of goats stirred up clouds of dust as it passed by on the dirt road outside. She tried to count the goats but it wasn’t any fun. She was too upset after witnessing the quarrel in the house.
‘Come inside, Aliya, night is falling.’ Safdar came and pulled her up, and she hugged him and began to cry.
‘When you start school you’ll feel much better.’ He held her tightly to his chest with an almost fatherly affection.
The maid was wandering about, lantern in hand, doing something or other. Amma and Abba were still sitting there angrily.
‘Did you take a walk?’ asked Amma sternly, and without waiting for Aliya’s answer, she addressed Abba: ‘I’m telling you, you should enrol her in school right away. I plan to have all my hopes fulfilled in this girl. You set your hopes in your sister and your nephew.’
‘Safdar, son, please go to your room,’ said Abba gently, and when Safdar had gone off to his room, Abba turned to her angrily. ‘I loathe mission schools—I will not send her there, better for her to remain ignorant.’
‘We’ll see about that; we’ll see whether she remains ignorant or whether she studies! You just hate the English for the sake of it—you always punch holes in the plate you eat from!’
Amma’s tone was so bitingly sarcastic that Abba leapt from his chair.
‘All I have to say to you is this: Why did you send my money to your brother without my permission? Now I
have no way of helping my children and I’m forced to work at this job. If you hadn’t hidden that money I could have started a business with it.’
‘What money?’ whimpered Amma.
‘My share of what came from the sale of the land.’
‘Oh, fine! That money is for Aliya and Tehmina; why would I keep it here? So you could use it for your sister and nephew? I’m not such a fool any more,’ Amma said with a laugh.
‘I’ll sue your brother.’
‘You do know that my brother’s wife is English,’ said Amma, raising her head proudly.
‘Yes, I do know that—your brother was just wandering about, poor thing, but after bringing home an English wife he certainly rose in the ranks.’ Abba spoke so angrily it sounded like he was cursing.
‘You’ve been working at a job for nearly fifteen years but you still haven’t risen in the ranks, so of course you’re jealous,’ replied Amma scornfully.
‘My God!’ Abba turned away angrily, then picked up his walking stick from the corner of the veranda and went outside. Amma covered her face with the edge of her dupatta and began crying softly. When Tehmina came and tried to calm her, she wiped away her tears.
‘I’ve saved up that money for you two sisters so that it won’t get wasted on Safdar and Najma,’ said Amma tearfully, and she sighed deeply.
Right at that moment, Aliya felt as though Safdar was some kind of ghost that would eat up everything in the house. Suddenly, she felt very sorry for Amma. She wanted to go and hug her, but she felt too anxious and went and lay down on her bed.
The full moon had risen, and she could hear the faint sounds of someone singing to the harmonium:
If I had known I would be separated from my beloved
I would have set fire to my veil
She fell asleep listening to that song. As she slept, she felt at one point as though someone were trying to wake her up, but she didn’t get up. Who knows if anyone even ate dinner that night.
The Women's Courtyard Page 2
