The Scarface I Hated Pt. 04

Chapter-14

So, just a few days back I was feeling wretched, about my own pitiful existence of 23 years. How life had been unfair to me and how I was persecuted by fate and married off to a scarface against my wishes. Then, in a short time, I came across Imran, Sumitra and now, Kiana. These three were personification of suffering. My challenges, when I introspected seemed like a picnic.

Inexplicably, I had become an integral part of these three. Their miseries were now mine and life had suddenly transformed me to a wife and a sister. But, what could I be to Kiana? Could I be a daughter? Or would I be a friend and a stakeholder in her wrecked life?

Losing husband at 29 to some mysterious accident; bringing up a child and then forcing herself to abandon him. To me, she appeared to be the one abandoned, by life itself. Still, when I looked at her determination, her resolve and her tenacity, I was greatly impressed. She was fighting against a system, submerged in unfair practices. And the government, who was responsible and capable of correcting the wrong, turned a blind eye.

Was she fighting a losing battle? But battles are often lost in the mind. Kiana had refused to lose so easily because she refused to give up. She may have lost a few battles but she was winning a war.

What was I supposed to do? I thought for a long time. Each time I was near some solution, it got muddled. At last, I simply put my arms around Kiana and caressed her forehead. Sleep came and the night along with its extraordinary stories ended with the sunrise.

I came out of the room. This morning, the village looked positively cheerful. And the sweet smell of flowers made me feel like staying here for a few more days.

But, I had a job to do. A job to undo some wrongs. A job to provide some relief, howsoever minimal, to people who had suffered.

Kiana was preparing tea for me. I said without a preamble, "Maa, this is the plan. You come with me for a week and you can return if you feel uncomfortable. I will drop you back."

Kiana looked at me for a long time in a peculiar way and then said, "Yes and no. No, to your dropping me back and yes, to my coming with you. Only for a week, mind you" And so it was decided.

The return train was about 5 hours away. Meanwhile, Kiana arranged a lot of things. Several small little details were worked out. Someone would stay at her house for the period she was out and the menfolk of the village were given instructions if the vendors arrived. The men appeared all at sea and had it not been for Kiana's assurances they would have physically prevented her from departing.

When we finally left, the whole village was around and I felt kind of guilty for snatching their precious Kinudidi away. They were worried sick that she might not return. Today, she finally introduced me as her daughter in law which further demoralised them. So, they judged, that she was going to her son and he may not allow her to come back. The look of worry on their simple faces confirmed the enormous role that she played in their life. She was a part of them and they depended on her. But she would return, I had no doubts about it.

The move to the station was an affair that I won't forget for a long time. A team of 4 fleet-footed boys were dispatched to the railway station to ensure that the train doesn't leave if we got delayed. I tried to reason with them the futility of this action, but they were insistent. Many followed our rickshaw for the full distance. If they had their way, they would follow us all the way, I assumed. Well, all good things come to an end and we reached the station in one piece and well on time. The disappointment on the faces of the scout team that had reached earlier was obvious. We had robbed them of the singular opportunity to stop the train.

The train was still about 15 minutes away and the entire company of boys, girls, adults and olds continuously kept looking at the far end of the railway track (where it met the sky) as if the train would arrive by some providence, simply by looking. Kiana was continuously scolding the boys and was apprehensive lest they run on the railway track and get run over. Fortunately, the number of trains on the route were so few that such a happening was remote.

Finally, the big mass of steel and noise, called 'the train' arrived and we were deposited on the seats with such fanfare that made rest of the passenger's scowl. With great difficulty, Kiana could make the boys detrain. As the train moved out, the boys and girls ran along with the train and Kiana kept shouting at them, scared sick. Finally, the platform ended and the train picked up speed. The boys were defeated.

She kept on looking through the window till they were no longer visible. She was tearful. She, who had never shed a drop for her husband or the son was crying for these boys and girls. Human relations were crazy, I thought.

As the train moved on towards our destination, Kiana's normal confidence started to dwindle. She became quiet and framed herself in the corner near the window. I tried to carry on a conversation but soon gave up. She was answering in monosyllables and looked tense. Suddenly, I was looking at an old woman stooped by age and anxiety, fearful of facing the world that she had left behind. We reached in the evening and for a moment I had a doubt that Kiana might run away and kept looking back checking on her. Luckily, she followed me and we reached the auto stand and then to home. It was clear that she was not familiar with the house as Imran had changed house after she had left.

I knocked and it was quickly opened by Sumitra. Evidently, she was waiting for my return. For a moment, she was taken aback by the presence of Kiana but she quickly recognized her and stood aside. I guided Kiana inside. She was all nerves and extremely tentative. Sumitra touched her feet but Kiana was lost in herself. I looked at Sumitra and she understood. She carried her meagre luggage in and went inside the kitchen.

I made her sit in the living room and said, "In my house, this is where I make my guests sit." A faint smile crossed her face and she looked up and then down again.

She finally gathered the courage to whisper, "Where is he?"

"He will come from the workshop at 7, still an hour to go." I said in a practical tone.

The wall of courage and strength was gradually weakening and the mother was looking for her child. She was on the verge of a breakdown. But, I needed to keep this courageous woman strong enough to face her son. I did not want Imran to find a weak broken woman. Because that would be incorrect and unjust.

So, I took her around the small house and introduced her to Sumitra. About her, I was not required to tell much and she understood. She looked at Sumitra with a peculiar gaze as if assessing her. For a fleeting moment, I thought that probably she was blaming Sumitra for her son's scar. I immediately forced that idea out of my mind because that was so simply ridiculous. Her gaze finally fell on her own picture on the table. She was again miserable.

"With no news about you, I was planning to put a dry flower garland on it. Ask Sumitra!" I chipped in with additional enthusiasm.

That broke the ice and she regained back her composure. She walked around the house and then came to the kitchen. The tea was ready but she stubbornly shook her head, like a child. I could be very stern with children when needed, and soon she was sipping her tea. I was acutely aware that despite her apparent normalcy, her ears were firmly turned towards the knock on the door. After tea, she took a wash and then I took her to the bedroom and made her sit. Her hair was all dishevelled and I gently combed them.

The knock on the door came and Kiana stiffened.

Comforting her, I went to open the door. Imran was standing in his trademark overhauls. His eyes lit up. Before he could embark on his pranks, I gently nodded towards the bedroom. He looked at me, confused. This time I directed him towards the room again. Unsure, he went.

I sat on the sofa, overcome with anxiety.

Seconds passed into minutes.

Chapter-15

Life had taught me a few things and one of them was to be able to reconcile with one's fate. I had long given up on my impulse to try and bend life as per my wishes. I had realised that it's only by rare providence that things go as we desire. Fate had its own mechanism to constantly surprise us and that is one lesson that I had learnt in the last few days. There were too many variables that made my life move at its own pace and direction. I had accepted it with humility.

Now, sitting alone in the living room I thought about the peculiar direction that my life was turning into. It worried me but I allowed time to take charge of the events that were unfolding. So, I did not interfere with Imran and Kiana's reunion. I did not know what they were talking about and how they would get hold of their complex lives in future. Would they reconcile and resolve their differences? I did not know. I just tried to do what I thought would work but life may have its own directions to move!

I had little idea as to where I was born but I was brought up in this city. We were in Bihar, in a small town made important by the number of coal mines that surrounded it. Located somewhere near Hazaribagh, this town had access to money and political power. On one hand, there were labourers working in the mines and on the other, there were the mine owners who were super rich and obnoxiously connected. Life in this town was strictly divided between haves and have-nots. Between hutments and lavish bungalows and clubs. Between dilapidated government-run schools and swanky buildings where the children of the mine owners went for education. To support these two communities there was the middle class armed with their shops and businesses. All facilities that the rich preferred were available here. Money floated in the air and one had to be cunning enough to grab it.

Beyond the city limits, there was limitless darkness. Poverty, illness, politicians and their musclemen ruled the lives of all.

I had lost track of time till Sumitra came and sat with me. We sat for some more time though no words were exchanged. Then, I got up and walked to the bedroom. The door was open and both were sitting beside each other, silent. Kiana looked up and waved me to come near. She held my hand and made me sit with her. She continued to caress my hands tenderly, words unspoken, probably saying thanks in her own way.

I understood her emotions perfectly but decided to tease Imran a little. I said obliquely, "You have forgotten me since the time your mother is here. I am not liking this at all."

Imran swallowed hard but Kiana recovered her witty self and said, "Of course, he cannot afford to annoy you. Who knows you may leave him and come to stay with me!" Imran looked up in mock fear and offered a perfect impression of being petrified of losing me. That was well done, I agreed sullenly. After all, he was Kiana's son and Meherunissa's husband!!

The four people who were at home were bound by two common factors. First, the absence of melodrama. Sadness and happiness, both evoked subdued responses. Things could always be worse, thereby allowing a sad event bearable. On the other hand, happiness was treated with caution, lest it turns the other way. This made us appear a little indifferent to others who preferred to wail in sadness and exhibit extreme ecstasy when happy.

Secondly, we all were quiet persons unless the occasion demanded some obligatory speech. Therefore, the connect of the mind though not very obvious to an outsider, worked perfectly for us. So, I concluded that Imran and Kiana had reached some reconciliation though not many words had been spoken. Similarly, Kiana readily accepted Sumitra in our midst although no formal declaration to that effect was forthcoming.

The evening passed in general chit chat though we skirted contentious issues. Kiana appeared mesmerised by the food laid. That was something she had been missing for long. After inspecting it for some time she whispered, "The boys there have never seen so much food."

Understandably, the rest of the dinner was completed in dead silence.

Soon it was time for bed. Kiana was tired and happy to sleep. Imran escorted her to Sumitra's room where the bed was large enough for two. Kiana looked at me and said, "Good night."

We moved back to our bedroom. Imran closed the door and held me in a bearlike embrace. It took me some effort to come out of that. Before he could say something, I asked, "Did you go through the papers in my box. Did you find something?"

"Plenty." He volunteered, staring somewhere unthinkable.

"What?" I demanded.

"First thing first, not now!" He said hoarsely, picked me up and kissed me. Rest was history.

"Thanks," Imran said at the end.

"What for?" I questioned him.

"For everything." He mumbled, looking at me with lustful eyes.

"Nonsense." I pushed him back and added, "What's that 'plenty' thing?"

Imran sat up and there was a sparkle in his eyes, he said, "Look Meher, there are a lot of papers in there. Some are disjointed. But there are two that looks important."

His enthusiasm was infectious. I too was intrigued. At the middle of the night, the box was opened and the contents were taken out. Few of them I had already examined earlier. I was interested in the 'two documents' that Imran mentioned but he was unwilling to start from the middle. He meticulously laid out all the books and documents one by one in some chronology that only he understood. It looked like his workshop where he had a special arranged for his equipment.

Like a true researcher, he started his explanations with the books, "Meher, these are not usual books that people read. These definitely shows leftist leanings of those who had been reading these or maybe trying to influence similar ideology. One book about Paul Robeson is a present to Amaya from Ardeshir."

"Any idea who these two could be?" Imran speculated with interest.

"My parents, most likely." My reply was short and dry.

"Oh!" He was apparently caught off guard.

"Have you read them?" I prodded.

"I have read most of them, earlier." He answered in a dismissive note.

"So, you know everything about Lenin's wife." I teased.

We both were quiet. He said softly, "Considering the age of these books, it was not unusual for persons of that era to seriously follow the Russian revolution or Marxism."

I agreed. Apparently, he knew more about such things.

Then he went on to the newspaper cuttings. He took up the first one that had a scribble 'Chasnala-372'. Imran patiently explained, "On 27thDecember 1975, there was an explosion in the Chasnala coal mine near Dhanbad. The roof collapsed and a huge amount of water gushed in burying alive every miner working underneath. 372 miners were declared dead by the government although it was suspected that about 700 people were killed. The matter was hushed up. Later, a cinema called 'Kala Patthar' was made depicting the tragedy. Nothing happened to the owners of the mine. The families of the victims were given a pittance as compensation."

"How could people be so insensitive?" I said so aloud, shocked and aghast.

Imran nodded sagely and said, "Now, listen to the second one. It is marked Morbi-25000 min. The word 'min' stands for 'minimum'. There was a four-kilometre-long dam on the Machhu river in Gujarat. On 11 Aug 1979, after 10 days of incessant rain the dam collapsed. The water burst out in great volume and swiftly engulfed the Morbi village. Approximately 25000 people were washed away. The government claimed that it was an 'act of God' and supposed negligence by the dam workers. Later on, it was revealed that there were major design defects. Almost no alerts were given to the inhabitants of Morbi before the disaster. This was one of the worst dam disaster ever in history."

Imran paused. I was stunned. I was completely unaware of these two incidents. Such human sufferings were unheard of. I only knew about the Bhopal gas tragedy. I felt ashamed.

Imran finally took out two papers that appeared to be torn from a copy. There were pencil scribblings on it. The first one was a chart with double lettered initials like IT, AA, BI, KA, AR etc. Below on the right, it was SM with a round around it. It made no sense to me.

The second paper was more detailed. It showed dates and time. With each entry was affixed with those initials. Both looked very cryptic and the only thing I could decipher was that efforts had been made to keep the reader guessing.

I looked at Imran. He shook his head and said, "To me, this looks like an organization chart of a secret agency or persons unwilling to allow anyone know about them. But why?"

I was clueless.

Imran added, "And this second chart is obviously a meeting schedule. This too is a secret document."

Again, I had no answers.

Finally, Imran said conclusively, "I have two important questions. First, why is SM circled? And second, why are these documents in your parent's box?"

I felt sick with anxiety. What kind of new twist was this?

Chapter-16

Who were Amaya and Ardeshir? Why were they erased from my life? Why no one ever spoke about them? What was this mystery all about? I had no answer and that made me angry. Imran, meanwhile, like a detective was patiently elaborating on the various possibilities that these papers highlighted. After some time, he realised that while he was talking I wasn't paying attention and suddenly jerked to a halt. He looked at me and sensed something amiss. He at once returned to his normal genial self and said in a mild tone, "I know, this is bothering you. But we need to know, don't we!" I nodded but I was unsure whether I really wanted to know or not.

We sat for a while. Imran collected back all the items and put it back in the box carefully. He said, "Meher. Maybe all these mean nothing. If there is something we will find out. There is no point in getting worried unnecessarily. You must be tired. Let's sleep." And I agreed. This time, I held him tight.

In the morning, I found Imran up and about but in no mood for work. He sent Suresh (who usually presented himself first thing in the morning, without fail) to the workshop with instructions. Imran absenting himself from work was such a rare event that I was pleasantly surprised. Kiana had already been up a long time back and had established a perfect rapport with Sumitra as if they were similar age friends. They were in the middle of some discussion which they suspiciously stopped as I entered the kitchen. I looked at them inquisitively but they refused to divulge anything.

Meanwhile, Imran joined us and started chatting. I noticed that Kiana and Imran were communicating much better and to an extent that it appeared as if they were separated only for a week or so. The breach of 5 years seemed to have melted away. I was really happy at this reunion but was worried that after seven days Kiana would leave. Still, it was a start. Even Sumitra appeared to have impressed Kiana. Only I was feeling a little out of place but I could not put a reason to it. Maybe I was the one who was a newcomer in the family while the rest were sufficiently close! Soon Imran declared that there would be a sumptuous lunch and he was going out shopping.

I could understand Imran's happiness on his mother's return and it was natural for him to celebrate but I had to join School and felt a little bad for missing out. I grudgingly informed them about the School and everyone were quiet. Finally, Imran said in an indifferent tone, "Well, duty is a duty and we must not stop you. You go. I, Sumitra and mother will enjoy." Though unreasonable, I was annoyed at him. He did not even request me once to stay back. His mother had suddenly become his priority. Irritated, I curtly left the table, got ready and left for the School. They continued talking and did not even say goodbye.