Heena squeezed into the first auto-rickshaw that
arrived. Her vehicle was out of gas and she was in no form the previous night
to get it to the petrol-pump herself. Public transport was not an issue with
her after the years of surviving them during her college days. She raised her
collar and pulled down the sleeves of her jacket and stayed put as a lady in
her sixties,perhaps,joined the other three as the final passenger. Previous
night was new year’s eve and the debauchery had left her with a clingy
hang-over. She had to take a good shower while promising herself never to let
Jaswinder poison her sane drinks with his mischievious shots. She took a
vasograin as precaution for any creeping migraine and left with a sandwich.
Even that got her a good ten minutes late already. Although she made a call but
guilt on first day of the year was never justifiable.
The motor started and picked up speed as
usual without a warning, jerking them like matchsticks in a box. The young lady
to Heena’s right, clad in black left a gasp,”ya
Allah!” She saw the old lady raise a silent eyebrow and sheift in her seat.
That was when she noticed the dark brown beads in her wrinkled hand that
started spinning,maybe,a bit faster.
Heena settled herself and turned to the old
lady,”You can squeeze in further aunty,there is space. You never know when a
bike brushes by these days. The kids on the roads are impossible!” The lady
complied. Then smiled and by nature of old age struck a conversation,”I am not
accustomed to these autos. They give me a backache. Actually my son has two
cars but he is out on work issues.” Heena smiled back and looked ahead. However
she continued,” I had been to the bank actually. You know these KYC forms and
what not they want these days.” She raised her eyebrows trying to make a point
raising three fingers and said,” My husband constructed three houses but never
let me even step the dust. But now after he is gone...”, her expression
softened for a moment. A voice came from
beside, ”That’s the point! What would come of three houses once the body gives
up? The soul needs cleansing, not spoiling.” The lady beside declared from
behind her veil, without looking this way. The old lady took a minute to gather
from where the statement had been delivered. Heena felt her expression harden a
bit as she replied, ”Kanha bestows on His beloved souls. Its all good deeds of
the past life. Not everyone has the fortune of relishing it.” Heena felt
herself caught in the midst of thickening air. She put her fingers to her face
and the fainting smell of last night’s cigarette teased her nose. She wished
nicotine had some reservoir effect.
The young lady in black shiefted in her
seat,unbeguiled by the catapulting auto now, “We come here for a reason aunty.
Allah does not discriminate. He just wants us to toil to reach back home. To
share the suffering that He put in for us.”
Old lady wouldn’t give up,”Kanha is beyond
suffering my child. He just waits for us to have it all and yet rise above it
all. And then he lets us have our prize” And looked away turning the beads.
Before the other could reply, the young
teenager in faded jeans and spikes shot back with a jeer, ”So aunties,do you
mean to say if I miss my new year bash, ‘am gonna top the exam?”
The two ladies looked at him like he was
sitting stark naked and they suddenly realized it.
The kid asked the auto to stop. His friends
were already waiting by the road in multicoloured spikes not unlike him and
possibly sportswear with expensive brands tagged all over. The kid hopped out
saying,”Don’t mind aunty. I don’t believe in all these superstitions.And would
be a hypocrite if I stayed silent.” Making the finale comment he paid the
driver and ran across the road without looking right or left.
The old lady mumbled subconsciously,”(narak me jayega) He will go to hell.”
Heena could not take it.
“He is just a kid aunty. He is still finding his way.”
The old lady gushed
back,”He is losing his way my dear. This is how it all starts. Haven’t you seen
his hair? Like a parrot I tell you!” She became thoughtful,”Tells a lot about
the parents.” Then looked up and spoke,”Kanha! show them the path.” She stated
sympathetically as if asking the president for water supply to some remote
famine zone.
“That is exactly what I
was saying. Penance…Penance is the path. Limitations are required, otherwise
the soul goes haywire.”The young lady said and looked at Heena to back her
up,”What do you say?”
Heena was caught
motionless in the speeding vehicle. How she wished it took lesser time to reach
her destination.
“Ah…umm…I don’t know much
about that…but ‘am sure you have a point somewhere…aa..he’s just a kid anyway.”
Heena shrugged her shoulders with a
silly grin.
The old lady came back to
her disappointment, ”Why? Are you one of that thing too? What do they call it
in english…?”,she fumbled.
The help surprisingly came
from the other side, ”Athiest”, the younger lady stated callously.
“No, I do believe in
God.”, said Heena like a confused schoolgirl.
“What’s your name?” Asked
the lady in black.
“Heena”
She raised her veil, smiled
,”I am Zahira, nice to meet you.” Heena realized she was not quite young. Maybe
early thirties, but too pretty for her age.
Her porcelain skin was almost transluscent. Now that she was smiling,
She looked almost like one of those girls from the televion ads.
“Single?” She tried to
make smalltalk.
“No, my luck failed me
last year”, Heena grinned with her usual humour trying to lighten the moment.
However it didn’t seem to have the same effect as it had on her friends. Zahira
perhaps did not get the joke.
“Married, I meant...got
married last year.” Added Heena.
“Okay!” smiled Zahira. I
am already late for my prayers you know. First day of the so-called year and
yet”, she giggled. “Your husband must be quite modern.”She scanned Heena’s skin-fit
jeans and long cargo jacket.” I used to wear jeans in college…with long kurtis
I mean. But now... He says I look gorgeous in churidars.” She said it in a way
that made Heena feel guilty for never wearing the heavy brocade sarees her
mother-in-law gifted her. Was she doing it wrong? Anyway she was never the
brocade wearing sophisticated type and would do no justice to them, she
quitened her conscience.
“You do look gorgeous
Zahira, I could never carry the dupatta and the veil with so much finesse as
you.”
Zahira replied,
”Nakaab,you mean. Don’t you carry one? I mean you never know when the Azaan
starts if you get busy. Although nowadays its not so rigid”,she smiled.
“Okay,I gave a wrong idea
I guess. I am not Muslim. But wish I were if that would make me as pretty as
you.”, said Heena easing the matter.
Aunty was listening from
amidst her beads and couldn’t keep her confusion any further,” How come you
don’t use vermillion then? Or bangles even?”
“No actually, my husband
does not mind and its sort of comfortable at work not wearing ornaments.”
“What would a bangle do to
ruin a job?”
Heena was caught
offguard,”I mean I never thought of it as mandatory and yes its comfortable not
having them.” Said she honestly.
“So does your generation
do the same thing with people its comfortable not having? Like mother-in-laws
perhaps?” she retorted somewhat
viciously.
Before Heena could reply the auto stopped and
aunty got off. She had already paid the fare.
Heena looked at Zahira who
was staring at her. “Did I say something hurtful to her?” Asked Heena.
Zahira replied,” She is
right in some way. A part of our generation is getting carried away by the
glamour of modernization and forget their duties. I am glad to say my in-laws
are like my own parents. You know Heena, traditions keep the soul rooted.” She
looked out,”Okay,my stop is here. I live in that pink building by the park. Do
visit if you get time.” She got down adding,”Just ask for Sultan’s house.
Everyone knows my husband in this area.” She smiled proudly and left.
1.
Jamuna entered her house and opened
the windows to the lawn. The episode in the auto had reddened her wounds. How
she had adored her daughter-in-law and how much she wanted to pass on her values
and family customs to her. What else is there to a family after all? But when
her son told her about the transfer,she knew it was Mona who was behind it. She
called Jamuna ‘conservative’ and ‘dictatorial’! Even the maid heard her saying
that!
She lit the temple-room chandelier and
burnt the evening lamp after washing herself. “My only son. How could she!”
Jamuna whispered,”Hope she has a son too. Then she would understand”.
She lighted the scented sticks. Joined her
hands and prayed, ”Kanha! take me now.”
2.
Zahira
spotted on the way her teenage son Ahmed standing near the park with few
friends and called him.
“What are you doing outside? You have
boards remember? Don’t forget the test marks.” She warned him.
“C’mon ammi, the tests are comparatively
difficult. You won’t understand.”
Zahira-“Its not like your mother is
illiterate. Don’t forget I am a graduate too.”
“I know…I know…In English that too…” Ahmed
rolled his eyes.
Zahira-“Of course in English! The subject
you flunked! Go and study before abbu comes. Else you know.”
“And yet you won’t attend a PTA without
abbu? Huh?” fought back Ahmed.
Zahira- That’s because I am not in practice
anymore. Wasted my talents bringing up a satan as you!”
Ahmed-“ya,whatever ammi…I need to go now.
Tell abbu I need to collect some notes.”
Before Zahira could stop him Ahmed sped
off. He was really becoming an insensitive kid,Zahira thought. Its just the age
perhaps,she told herself,recollecting Heena.
“What a careless girl! Yet what a carefree
life.”, she left a breath and went inside,subconsciously pulling her scarf over
her head at the sound of Azaan emanating from a distance.
3.
Heena entered the
building pondering over the ride. She didn’t even notice the guard hurrying up
to open the gate. She had no intention whatsoever of hurting the old lady. But
then, being brought up in an orphanage and then
with an unconservative foster-father like her’s,she did not much
understand the psyche of people sometimes. Although she cared never to step on
toes or hurt feelings.
When Suraj and Hema had adopted her,she was
barely 7 years old. At that time she had no clue who had named
her Heena or why did the sisters make her wear the rosary. All she cared was
that she gets the one with the fluorescent green beads. And after Suraj brought
her, her life changed in a day.
Suddenly she was transferred from the
discipline of the missionaries to a carefree life. Despite of his hospital and dispensary,Suraj
would take time to read to her. It was only then she realized her love of
books. She went to the Kalibari with Hema often and prayed and ran around the
courtyards.
Being a good student reduced the pressure of
society on her to be a sacrosanctous icon. Hence,after her marriage to
Jaswinder she had no qualms having a gurudwara wedding as well, and luckily
neither did her in-laws seem to mind her cluelessness about so many things.
They would laugh at the way she draped her sarees but she didn’t mind.
Never did she have to decide her religion.
She was in a cocoon of faith that every deed is holy if it hurts nobody. Every
laughter shared was an act of worship. And every healing hand a weapon of God.
That is what Suraj had told her when she was leaving for college.
She opened the glass door and went in.
Changed into the loose clothes and while scrubbing her hands at the sink
thought to herself,
””Zahira”-what a pretty name! I wonder what
aunty’s name is!”
Without delay she went inside and looked at
the man lying there as her apron was being tied. She stared at the bare shaven
torso and marked the area with her view. Without moving her vision she spread
her right palm and said from behind her mask, ”scalpel please.”
Debosmita Paul
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