Indu was troubled. The day had begun ordinarily enough and she had left for the library after the usual breakfast, wearing a beige and light green chanderi sari with a light blue paisley print on the border. The switch from kurtas to saris had not been without reason. The season seemed to demand it. She felt different, more grown-up, and it seemed to reflect in her dressing.
Indu had pinned the sari tightly to her shoulder, stepping into her heels, standing by the garden gate as Natty had brought the car to her. While the rickshaws and bicycles still zigzagged with disdain across the roads, which always sent up dust, they flouted traffic signals less often. The Ambassador in which Natty drove Indu had the Congress symbol displayed front and back. Everywhere they rode, people hurriedly backed off and stared curiously inside, and Indu never went out without her sunglasses.
The morning had started out sunny and Indu was glad for the new curtains they’d had tailored for Number 7. For the past few months, every time Indu walked inside, she couldn’t help but look around and smile—Number 7 looked more and more like a proper library every day. Bookshelves lined all the walls now, colourful book spines slanted against each other. They had added tables, which looked big and inviting in the morning, and slowly got occupied through the day. Now Kittu helped Indu during the day. Indu had agreed to give her a small sum of money, which she proudly took home to her parents. Kittu wasn’t the smartest chip on the block, and there was only so much that Indu could tolerate of her negligence, but she realized that there was nobody else who lived close enough and was available to stay there throughout the day.
The first of the girls began arriving around 11 a.m. Indu made entries of the books that had been returned and the ones that were pending, handing them to Kittu, who would run and put them on the correct shelves. She thought of Rajat, who would arrive in three weeks. She wanted to make sure that it looked busy and vibrant when Rajat saw it, and was hoping to have an event on the day she would bring him here. She finished filing the last of the returns and looked up at the doorway.
Rana stood there, one hand in his pocket, the other touching the door. The shirt was untucked, and his hair messier than before. He stared at her long and continuously, pouting, his face in a frown uncharacteristic of him. She half expected him to walk in with a cheeky grin, ready to say to her, ‘Could you stop staring at me? I’m starting to get uncomfortable.’ But he didn’t. He didn’t move from the doorway. He looked thinner and had shadows beneath his eyes, but suddenly he smiled and the twinkle in his eyes seemed to come back.
Indu didn’t smile back, just looked at him instead. She couldn’t tolerate his audacity. She finally walked towards him, her sari trailing behind her. She wondered if he would notice the change in attire.
She came to a stop close to him, looking at him with indignant, raised eyebrows. In a firm voice, she asked, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ and saw that he heard the anger in her voice. She hoped it would hurt him.
It was as if he had forgotten how to speak, for he kept staring at her. She looked at him in exasperation and then glanced around to see if the others had noticed him. Kittu and two of the older girls were grinning widely and the rest of them stared curiously till Indu shot them a sharp glance. They hurriedly turned back to their books. When she turned around, Rana was still staring at her.
‘Why are you here?’ she asked him again.
He didn’t reply for the longest time, and she didn’t know what to do with him as he stood in the doorway of her library, leaning against the wall, staring at her without a care in the world.
Just as she was about to open her mouth again, he asked her, ‘How are you?’
She mustered all the contempt that she could and brought it to her face, telling him coldly, ‘Better without you. I don’t want to talk to you.’
His expression did not change, and she was going to
re-emphasize her point when he finally said it. ‘I need to talk to you.’
‘I don’t want to talk to you,’ she hissed at him, and she meant it. ‘How can you show up—after months—at my door like this—how can you even think—’
‘Indu, please—’
‘Don’t you dare take my name!’ It came out louder than she had expected, and suddenly her eyes threatened to spill tears. She took a deep breath. ‘Please, go.’ But she knew he would not.
‘I’m not leaving without talking to you.’
‘I’ll call the police,’ she said.
‘You’re worse than the police,’ he replied.
She knew he thought she would laugh, so she didn’t. ‘Get out,’ she told him.
‘Indu, I need to speak to you.’
‘I don’t have time.’
‘I’ll wait.’
‘I’m not interested.’
‘It’s a matter of life and death, Indu.’
She stared at him, refusing to soften her expression. If he thought he could turn up after a year and use big words like ‘it’s a matter of life and death’ and expect her to relent, he was wrong.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘Come with me.’
‘No.’
He looked at her for a few seconds. ‘At 5.30?’
She paused before asking, ‘Where?’
‘You know where.’
She raised her eyebrows and he gave her a knowing look. She turned around to go back to her desk, and by the time she sat down, he was already gone.
* * *
The day Rana and Indu had met at Bheem House Diner, one year ago, was the last time she had spoken of him, when she had told her sister what had transpired. She didn’t mention him to anyone after that, but spent months dwelling on the memory of his face, his voice. She hadn’t expected to see him again for many years. One day, she thought, they might randomly spot each other walking down Marine Drive, where Indu would be taking a walk along the city of dreams and Rana would pass her, wearing a suit. They would look at each other with the same warmth. She would smile at him, give him a courteous nod, ask about his welfare and walk off. She wouldn’t tell him that she thought of him every day, and that he came to her mind every time she laughed, and watched Rajesh Khanna on screen.
When Rana had left, Indu had been convinced, knew for sure, that he would return soon, apologizing for his brash words, sorry for his hurried decision, and then Indu would take her own sweet time to let it go. But she knew in her heart that she would definitely let it go, enamoured by the sweet things he would do to make up, and they would again discuss being together. Every day she sat down with the draft of the letter she would send to Rajat, gently apologetic, saying that she had met someone else.
But with every passing day that Rana did not return, she felt increasingly the fool, felt that he had played her. She berated herself for being stupid enough to fall for his wobbly promises and casual claims, yet could not believe that all that he had said and done had been empty. It might have been sincere at some point, but just like with Runjhun, just like with everything else in his life, his attention had wavered, the shine had waned and he had left as quickly as he had come. When she realized he wouldn’t come back, she channelled all her pain into ignoring his existence, refusing to talk about him to anyone who asked, erasing all traces of the time he had been a part of her life.
Now she entered Indian Coffee House and looked around. She found him waiting for her at their old table. He got up when he saw her. Taking a deep breath, she walked towards him and took the seat opposite, crossing her arms across her chest.
For a few minutes, neither said anything. Indu didn’t want to be the first one. Rana finally asked her if she wanted coffee.
She shook her head and gave him a look of loathing.
‘It’s a valid question—we are in a coffee house!’
She hoped he could see the disgust in her eyes. ‘I’m not here to have coffee with you. I’m here because you said something’s a matter of life and death. Not that I believe you, but I have to give you the benefit of doubt befo
re I ask you never to show me your face again.’
She thought she saw a twinge of pain on his face, but he turned and asked the waiter for a coffee.
‘I’m going to have one, though, if you don’t mind. Couldn’t sleep all night,’ he said.
‘Listen, mister—’
‘I know you’re angry, okay, but give me a chance! I know you’ve decided to give me a chance because you are here.’
She still refused to look at him.
‘How are you?’
She didn’t reply.
‘You look beautiful. As always.’
She yawned pointedly, still looking away.
‘Yet, there’s something missing.’
She shot him a contemptuous look. He extended his hand and opened his fist to reveal a fresh, white jasmine. She looked at the little flower on his palm, and then at his face. She picked it up and crushed it with her thumb and forefinger, letting the ruined petals fall to the table as he watched her, wide-eyed.
It took him a few seconds, after which he said, ‘Ouch.’
‘Anything else?’ Indu asked in mock curiosity, raising her eyebrows.
Rana stuck out his lower lip, leaning towards Indu across the table; his eyes were wide and he extended his arm again, while Indu still kept hers folded across her chest. He propped his elbows on the table, away from his coffee, and stared at her sadly. ‘I miss you,’ he said.
She felt herself melt for a moment, but didn’t let it show, and instead, composed herself to ask him coldly, ‘What do you want?’
His eyes looked sadder and browner than ever, and Indu was tempted to sound less harsh.
‘Don’t you want to know where I’ve been?’ he asked.
‘Not really,’ Indu said.
‘I’m going to tell you anyway.’
Indu sighed, turning to the waiter, and requested a coffee as well.
‘When we met at Bheem House that day—’
‘You left, Rana!’ Indu suddenly said, banging her hands on the table. She noticed people turning to stare at them, and so she lowered her voice. ‘I don’t care where you’ve been, what you’ve been through, or whatever cock and bull story you plan to feed me—the fact of the matter is, you left.’
‘You told me never to see you again!’
‘Then why are you here?’
‘I know you didn’t mean it! I wanted to come earlier, but I couldn’t!’
‘That’s convenient,’ she said, turning away from him again.
He put his head in his hands, massaging it as if this conversation had given him a headache. He then sighed loudly and shut his eyes.
‘When I met you that time,’ he began, ‘I told you things were going to go wrong, but I didn’t know how true that would turn out to be. I told you Fawad had already gone into hiding. We had heard that some opposition leaders had been arrested, but we didn’t know anything for sure. Our printers had also been sealed.’
‘Your printers got sealed?’ Indu asked him.
‘Of course! Did you not know that already?’
‘How would I?!’
‘Well, anyway, that evening, Fawad came home and told us we must leave. He looked deranged, throwing clothes into his suitcase, moving around distractedly, telling me we must pack up and leave. I told him no, of course, that he needed to calm down. I told him the prime minister would never be allowed to keep this up. It seemed such an impossible situation then, all those measures. But he left anyway, saying he couldn’t stay, and moved to a friend’s house in Uday Park. I thought he was being paranoid, but I humoured him.’
Indu waited for him to go on.
‘Two days later, they knocked on my door. It was in the middle of the night and I woke up groggy, hoping that it was Fawad. But my worst fears were confirmed. There were three people, one in a police uniform. They pushed me aside and entered, heading straight for the rooms. Fawad was not there and they started going through our things. I told them that Fawad had gone home to visit his family. It was a good move as they seemed to believe me. Yet, they took me along with them.’
Indu stared at him in shock. ‘Took you where?’
‘I don’t know what it was, but someone’s office, I suppose.’
‘What did they want?’
‘To convince me that Fawad was a Kashmiri nationalist, that he wanted to blow up the government, and that I should tell them whatever I knew about him.’
‘Oh my God,’ Indu covered her mouth with her hand. ‘I can’t believe it.’
‘They kept me for a few hours, trying to drill it into my head and convince me that I must report him as soon as he returned, that I must give up his addresses, his friends, his family. They even asked if I had any of his documents,’ Rana said. ‘I obviously told them I didn’t know anything, that he didn’t share very much with me. Then they questioned me about what I had written for the magazine. I said it was mainly sports and poetry.’
‘Oh God.’
‘They let me go after a few hours, but I knew it wasn’t over. They kept an eye on me. I did not dare call anyone, but I had to somehow get to Fawad and warn him. One day, I made sure I wasn’t being followed, went to the place where he was staying, and managed to tell him they had come to get him.’
‘But—why did they want to arrest him?’
‘You read the stuff he wrote. Article after article against the government, attacking everything they had ever stood for. The question is, why didn’t they arrest him the same night they declared Emergency? The day it all changed, he was already at the forefront of one of the few big marches against her. He was a marked man. Of course, I didn’t know the extent of all this. I knew he was involved in activities other than the magazine, but I never bothered much. The people who tried to get him took too long, and it bought him his freedom. He stayed low. I knew I was being watched all the time. I did not dare speak on the phone, I didn’t know whom I could ask for help—it was very confusing. I also had no news from the others because nothing was allowed to be reported. We obviously expected that this wouldn’t last. It was impossible to think that it could go on so long this way, and that no one would do anything.’
‘But why didn’t you go back home to Lucknow?’
He shook his head. ‘Whatever it was, I didn’t want to voluntarily lead them to my family, just in case something went wrong. I didn’t want them to be used as bait. The farther away I was from them, the safer they were.
‘After a few weeks passed, we realized the situation would continue that way. I didn’t know what to do, the magazine had been shut down. I couldn’t come to the library—’
‘That’s the part I don’t get,’ Indu interrupted. ‘I mean, not that I care, and whatever, you are free to make your choices—but how does that stop you from . . . from . . . one whole year!’
His elbows were on the table again and he held his head in his hands, unable to look at her. Indu watched the others around them, the waiters bustling about. A signboard above them said ‘Political discussions are banned.’ Suddenly, Indu couldn’t look at Rana anymore. She pushed the chair back and got up, shouldering her bag in haste. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go now,’ she told him.
‘Indu, wait!’ He held her arm and Indu shook him off. ‘Indu—I didn’t know if I could trust you!’
She looked at him scathingly. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Will you please sit down? I don’t want to call attention to ourselves.’
She stared at him for a few more seconds, and sat down again.
‘What do you mean you didn’t know if you could trust me?’
‘I came to Number 7 a few times, never went inside, of course, but I did try and look for you. I saw you thrice, but each time it was with some officials or the police, and I didn’t know what to make of it.’
‘What to make of it?! I was trying to make sure the library remained open. They put a ban on all public meetings. I had to answer the questions of twenty different people before they gave me permission.’
‘
That’s exactly why I didn’t meet you! It was too dangerous to take the risk. Everyone knew we were close, that I worked with you at Number 7. What if they used you to get to me? I was dodging them all the time. To come to you wouldn’t be wise.’
‘And also because I had told you to never see me again,’ she said.
He hung his head. ‘It’s true. I was mad at you for not understanding what all this meant, but that anger evaporated, believe me. I thought about you every day, all the time. And anyway, I didn’t have many chances to get to you before I had to move again.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Fawad and I moved to Gujarat. We paid off our landlord and in the dead of night, moved everything down to Ahmedabad.’
‘Why, what was in Ahmedabad?’
‘It’s a different government, so it was much safer. Moreover, there was nothing left for us here. The magazine had been shut down, Fawad had a warrant out for his arrest, and they were looking for the slightest reason to arrest me as well. There was a movement growing in Ahmedabad, with lots of discussions about the Emergency. We knew some people there and stayed there a few months, doing odd jobs, while Fawad got right back into the resistance, organizing protests. I was more cautious at first.
‘I thought about you all the time. What you were doing, and if you were wondering where I was, and what you made of all this.’
At this point, a little tear rolled down Indu’s cheek and she wiped it away hastily, but when she spoke, her voice was muffled and teary.
‘I even went to your house once,’ she said.
‘You did?’
‘On the pretext of returning some things you left at the library, but I did.’
He put his head against the palm of his hand and stared at Indu with sad, wide eyes. She looked away.
‘What happened then? After you went to Ahmedabad?’
He paused before answering, asking Indu if he could eat something first. She watched him scan the menu, his eyes squinting at certain items, asking her what she wanted to eat. She refused and he finally ordered a masala dosa.
‘Nothing really happened immediately. I had kind of gotten carried along, I didn’t really know what I was doing there. I needed money so I got work doing odd jobs for a lawyer. I was careful to change my name, though. I was paranoid. I had a forged ID.’
Once Upon a Curfew Page 19
