The Scarface I Hated Pt. 05

Chapter-18

He breezed in and cried gruffly, "Suresh is missing"!!

Kiana and Sumitra concentrated on their inconsequential work with utmost gravity and in right earnest.

I seized the opportunity and said dramatically, "Oh! No! How? When? Where could he have gone?"

"God only knows. There is no news. Even his mother doesn't know." Imran was frantic.

I looked at the two mischief makers who solidly strengthened their labour.

Imran soon realized that the necessary anxiety that was expected was not forthcoming. He narrowed his brows and inspected the two intensely hardworking women and then me. He sat down with a thud. Relieved.

After some time, he said disparagingly, "Hmmm. For such a small thing, he need not have disappeared."

After a pause, he asked me sweetly, "May I know who is the mastermind?"

Being an obedient and dutiful wife, I pointed out the offenders without any qualms.

Imran got up in feigned anger and pulled Sumitra's braids and said severely, "Next time you try any such stunt, I will call off your marriage to Suresh!"

Well, that was some news. Me and Kiana turned to look at Imran with surprised but probing eyes.

Sumitra turned red with embarrassment and ran to her room.

Imran momentarily scratched his head and said, "What? What's wrong with the match?"

Kiana remarked scornfully, "Since when have you started matchmaking? From your own I presume!"

I was about to object! Poor Imran was only a pawn (though wilful) in the conspiracy but the twitch at the corner of her lips was a dead giveaway and I controlled myself in time.

Imran lamented in a (very) sad voice, "Yes. If the mother is not interested in settling his son, what else can he do?"

The discussion was veering towards dangerous territories and there was all round melodrama (false though). To spice things up I added with mildly inflated enthusiasm, "Maa, since Suresh is unwell, you can come with us."

Kiana pointed her crooked fingers at me and said with contempt, "So that you can push me down the cliff and get rid of me? Sorry, I wish to live longer till I have six grandchildren who would pester you so much that only then you would understand how devious children are!"

"Six?" Both me and Imran exclaimed in unison.

Imran pointed a finger at me and said sullenly, "Here, Meher wants children. Ask her."

I pounced on him playfully and said, "Right you are! But not six. Maybe... Two?"

Imran wailed, "Do you have any idea what a nuisance they are. And can we afford them?"

Kiana interjected, her brows slanted upwards "Yes, children are pests. Just look at yourself. And you have the stupidity to speak about expenses. Meher! How do you tolerate him?"

Suddenly Imran brightened up and walked up to Kiana and held her by her shoulders and said, "Maa. Forget the children. Both of us together can pester you more than the children. I promise."

And then with a small pause said wistfully, "Stay with us."

The inner desire of Imran was not lost on Kiana who looked fondly at her scarred son. Were her eyes moist? I thought so. She finally said in a small voice, "I can't. You know that."

Imran looked the other way in anguish.

And she looked at me for support.

I took her hands into mine and said earnestly, "Maa! Stay with us. No, stay with me. Please."

Filled with pain, she said, "Meher, don't make me weak. You know. I have to go back."

Kiana's inner strength was under severe duress. Her face contorted, she violently shook her head and abruptly walked out of the room. Maybe, out of our life.

Imran shouted hoarsely as she left, "Don't stay! Leave! Leave now!"

Then after a while he said in a whisper, "Who am I to you?"

He looked at me in agony, his eyes red and murmured, "Am I that bad. Will she never come back to me?"

He stood like a statue trying hard to supress his passions. I hugged him from behind. He took my hands and kept holding them as if he would never let me go. I let him. We both stood as one.

How long? I lost count of time. Imran sighed, let me go and sat down. Between the adamant mother and the distressed son, I stood, not knowing what to do. For both, the pain was limitless and I had no solutions.

We continued to sit in silence. The tornado of love left us devastated.

But after some time, prudence returned in the form of Sumitra who by now had recovered from her initial discomfiture and was back to her mature self. She quickly laid out the food and in a business-like manner gathered all the inmates. Her deadpan face rather helped everyone to emerge out of the sudden emotional upheaval. She was the release that I couldn't be.

Soon, she was all about our impending journey and the things we needed to pack. And asked questions like whether Netarhat will be cold or not? Imran looked at her in apparent annoyance but she was in her brilliant chirpy self, in complete control. Obviously, she was quite aware of the terrain of Bihar. She knew almost everything about the flora, fauna and the good food of Netarhat. After all, she was a geology student in college and a smart one at that.

Finally, Kiana in her inimitable expressionless voice reminded Sumitra (once again) that her enthusiasm was misplaced as it wasn't her honeymoon. This time Sumitra brushed aside the insult with a wave of her hand and continued her commentary.

I was worried about Imran driving and contemplated bringing up the issue but decided against it. After all, an automobile engineer heading a workshop was expected to know driving. So, I allowed the query to pass.

Sumitra concluded her sermons and almost physically pushed us to our bedroom lest we oversleep and miss the marching time in the morning. The bags were packed and the scene was set. I was happy and was eager to get going. I felt like a small child who gets all excited about a train ride. I even forgave Imran for his abominable behaviour, the day before.

Imran looked shamefaced and said, plainly embarrassed, "I shouted at Maa!"

I could see that. The only thing I could do was to make him feel a little better. I pulled him to the bed and kissed him on the lips. I looked into his eyes and said, "Maa knows, you are hurt. She understands.

A bit relieved, he said, "But you are still angry. Aren't you.?"

I rolled my eyes and pulled his cheek in mock anger. He cried out in pain. I said sternly, "You will be punished for this."

And smothered his lips with mine.

For a long time, I punished him severely enough. But the devil appeared to enjoy and even participated actively in the proceedings. Sleep came through and we dropped away to a blissful slumber, in each other's arms. Today, my contentment was complete and I truly had become one of them with all rights, all privileges and all liberties. Today, I had a mother and I had a say. I got what I never had.

In my sleep, I dreamt of a mountain cliff. As I stood on the edge, looking down, clouds were swirling up from the limitless bottom drenching my face with sweet smelling mist. Butterflies in brilliant colours rose towards me and I tried to catch them like a small girl. I..., I then slipped and fell through a void. I struggled but I kept falling. I shouted for help and looked towards the darkness below. But the fall was smooth as if I was floating in air. I gave up and after an eternity landed softly, in the arms of a man with a scar. I woke up and Imran was looking at me, anxiety written all over.

He said without a preamble, "What happened? You were saying something?"

Confused, I looked at his face. His scar had turned red.

He tenderly touched my face and said in a kind voice, "Did you see a bad dream Meher?"

Relived, I pulled his head towards me, shut my eyes and said with great satisfaction, "No Imran, it was a good dream."

The night was over. Faint light from the east ushered in a new day with a promise.

We were ready to move.

Chapter-19

In no time, we were ready. The car sans the driver was neatly parked in front of the house, washed and shining. It was a white Zen raring to go. The farewell team was ready with all their last moment advises. Kiana was standing with a serene look on her face. Sumitra was standing behind her with both her hands firmly holding Kiana's shoulders. The orange rays of the sun imparted an ethereal glow to their respective faces. It was a glow of happiness and contentment. For a moment, I had a great urge to take both of them with us. But when I visualised the scorn that Kiana was likely to adopt I quickly dropped the idea.

Imran had loaded the car. And the large cane basket ostensibly filled with a variety of food items was carefully placed in the back. Everything done, he critically examined a camera and the reels. At sharp 6.15, Imran started the car to a purring start and for the first time I sat with my husband on the front seat, all alone. He smoothly eased the car out on the road. They waved frantically and we waved back. And finally, we were on our way.

As if we were on an adventure to some unknown magical land!

The car moved through the sleepy town. People were slowly congregating around the tea stalls. The aroma of the freshly ignited coal was all too pervasive. The cold wind rushed through the windows ruffling my hair bringing tears to my eyes. It was all too dreamy. I looked at Imran and touched his naked arm lightly. The stupid fellow at once twisted his body away and cried, "Hey! Don't tickle me". That was the end of my foray into the romantic gestures, for the time being.

But I was undaunted by minor things like rebuff by Imran. I was at another plane altogether. The morning light looked so beautiful, so enchanted. And the scarface was with me. My own scarface. I wanted to talk to him, cuddle him, make him my own. I glanced at him, lo and behold he found exactly the same moment to look at me. Our eyes met and we hurriedly looked the other side. What the heck! Why did I look away?

I looked at him again and caught him red handed, staring at me.

Imran: "Don't look at me like that. I am driving."

Me: "Who says I am looking at you? You are looking at me."

Imran: "Don't do it? How will I control the car if I get out of control?"

Me: "Just because you have no control on yourself you cannot stop me from looking wherever I like!"

Imran: "But why are you staring at me? Am I some sort of zebra or something."

Me: "Who knows? But I am not looking at you. I am looking at the hills out there. Will we go through them?"

Imran glanced at the mountains that looked distant due to the morning mist. He smiled enigmatically and sped up. The road was empty and I persisted. "Tell me!". He didn't answer and soon, to my amazement we had entered the Ghats of Chhotanagpur. The road curled ahead like a snake, gradually climbing up. At a bend, Imran stopped and pulled me out. We stood together on the edge, like I saw in my dreams. The town looked like a picture postcard. The houses looked so small. I was back to my childhood of which I remembered little. For me there were no dolls, no doll houses. I wanted a doll for myself, so badly.

As if on a cue Imran put his arms around my shoulders and I reciprocated. We stood facing the sun. A whiff of cold wind suddenly brushed across my face and again Imran held me a wee bit tighter, comforting me. Then Imran looked at me, his eyes twinkling and said, "Hey! We need to move. There will be more beautiful places on the way."

I shook my head, I wanted to stay there. Imran was thoughtful. He locked the car and nudged me across the road and to a cluster of dense bushes. He made me go through it and found a narrow jungle lane. He held my hands and guided me and after two minutes we reached an opening. There was a small stream that crossed an oval space and the grass was so green along it. A flat stone was nearby. Imran climbed up and lay down, both his arms tucked under his head. At once, I knew that this was his private lair. The den of the lion. But the place was so serene, so peaceful and so picturesque. And it was quiet. We both sat for a while and then we moved out slowly. I knew that I would come back to this place. Not once but many times. For peace and solitude.

Once we were in the car, I interrogated him, "So this is where you brought your girlfriends?"

"Yup." Imran replied nonchalantly.

"So, you did bring them in here." I repeated the statement.

"Yup." He reiterated his stance.

"How many?" I probed further.

"Countless." He countered.

"What happened here?" I asked, breathless.

"They ran away when they saw me."

"Sure?"

"Sure."

"What a relief." I croaked.

"You too must run away." Imran said seriously.

"I can't." I said with sadness.

"Why? Who's stopping you?"

In perfect sadness I said, "Where will I go? I am an orphan. Chacha has bound my hands and legs and thrown me in the river. I cannot run away."

"Who's stopping you?" Imran was persistent.

I dramatically pointed a finger at him and said in an anguished note, "You!"

And we laughed together.

Bliss.

In some time, we reached Ranchi. Since childhood, the only fact I knew about Ranchi was that it housed the infamous mental asylum at Kanke.

The city looked nice and normal but Imran bypassed the main town and soon we were moving towards our eventual destination.

There was a perceptible change in the nature of the trees and the surroundings. The jungle had turned deeper and darker. The tall 'Sal' trees were swinging with the wind in a drunken stupor, the tops straining to touch each other and then moving apart. The roads were silent. The car moved and Imran concentrated on the road. Slowly, we were deep inside the jungle. We hardly met any other vehicles or humans.

At a particularly dark jungle Imran stopped the car and asked me to come out. Though I felt a little afraid but I stood out and looked inquisitively at Imran. Before I could say something, he put his fingers on the lips and said in a low voice, "Listen carefully, don't speak".

I listened carefully. For a moment, everything appeared normal. I looked back at him. He tenderly put his palm on my eyes and whispered, "Close your eyes and listen."

And I did as instruct and then I could hear the swishing sound of the wind blowing through the Sal trees. I could suddenly hear a 'tik tik' sound just behind me then another one to my right. All of a sudden, a croak was on my left. The 'tik tik' vanished and the croak replaced it. In no time, I could hear myriad sounds all different and unique. I was literally surrounded by them, so near that I could touch them. After a long time, I opened my eyes and found Imran smiling at me. It was an experience that I haven't forgotten till date.

We continued to move through this unprecedented serenity and quiet till we reached a town called Daltonganj. Imran stopped the car at a roadside shack and ordered tea. The small boy rushed to clean the single bench and the shop owner made fresh tea. He cleaned two cups vigorously reserved only for VIPs like us. It was a simple tea in a blue white ceramic cup lined by hairline cracks, smoke emerging from the surface and filling me with an incredible aroma. The tea with two "ledo" biscuits (rural rusk) simply made my day.

I looked around and nudged Imran. He was thinking something and turned towards me a bit startled. I said casually, "You have been here before. Haven't you?"

He looked at me with an interesting gaze and said quietly, "I know this place like the back of my hands. I can never forget this place."

I was suddenly alert and asked him carefully observing his reaction, "Have you been here recently."

Imran looked towards the road dreamily and said with a slow drawl, "No, not recently. I was here years back but the memories are too strong."

"Will you tell me about them?"

"Yes, I will. Maa has sent us here for that. Only I am not sure."

"Why?"

"I don't know whether the time is right or not?"

"Of course, it is right. I am ready and I am curious."

"I know but give me some time." Imran said.

We kept sitting. The solitude and the tea shop were our companion.

Chapter-20

The last few sentences by Imran alerted me. Knowing Kiana, I was very convinced that our journey to Netarhat held more secrets than the simple conjugal bliss that was being portrayed. The terrain and Imran's intimacy with the locality obviously hid recollections of his younger days. And they appeared to be firmly imprinted in his memories. Whether these were happy or sad, only he could tell. But he appeared a little unwilling to do so at the present time and it wouldn't be prudent for me to push the issue now.

After some time, we moved again. This time the road climbed uphill. The forest became lighter. The sun filtered through and the trees looked red. Thrilling, absolutely. Stunning, absolutely.

Since Imran was still taking his time to think about his own life, I thought I could get a few inputs on something else.

"Don't you think, you are hurrying Sumitra's marriage to Suresh? She is still college going!"

Imran gave a start, obviously, his mind was elsewhere, and he fumbled, "Whose marriage, Sumitra's? Who said she was getting married?"

"You said so." I reminded him politely.

Clearly, Imran had blurted out his deep-seated desire in a rather premature fashion precipitated by his frustration, on being taken for a ride by Sumitra and Kiana yesterday. Still, I wanted to know what precisely he was thinking about them.

Imran knew that he was being cornered. He threw up his driving hand and said, "What's the harm? It's not happening immediately."

I said pointedly, "Do you think Suresh is a suitable match for Sumitra?"

Imran was now more poised and said, "Meher, their lives are not that simple. They have baggage specially Sumitra, you know that. I must be careful about her future. It's too complicated."

I realised that but I was still thinking about the match. Imran sensed it and said, "I would be very difficult to get Sumitra married. Many know what happened to her. Her parents have disowned her and she has been practically staying with a me for five years. The society is not going to be kind. Things are far from normal and I have to take everything into account."

There was a dreaminess in his eyes as if saying to himself, he said, "Suresh loves her and he will be able to give her the support she needs. I am not in a hurry. I will make them both self-sufficient and then we will see. Nothing is decided as yet."

I was proud of him. He thought so much ahead. Still, I tried to tease him a bit and said in jest, "Why don't you ask your 'Bhavaniji' to do something? After all, he is the one responsible for all this!"

Imran laughed aloud and said, "Ah! Bhavaniji? I know what he is going to say. You want to know?"

"Sure," I said.

Imran brought his face near my ears and said, "He will say, Imran! Marry her. You can marry four times. Oh! Meher! It would be so thrilling! What do you say?"

He laughed aloud. I did not find anything thrilling about the statement. Annoyed, I looked the other way.

Imran continued to laugh, shaking his body, thoroughly satisfied with his own joke! I studied my nails. I had a tremendous urge to inflict some additional scars on his stupid face.

Suddenly with great seriousness, Imran said, "Who are we to blame anyone for our misfortunes. We create our destinies ourselves. Who knows it better than me? I don't dare blame anyone else!"

Suddenly a poignant moment was reached. I realised that scars were part of Imran's life and it was insensitive of me to bring up this issue casually. I took note of this incident.

"I know Imran. I will remember this." That was all I could say.

"We are almost there!" Imran announced and we suddenly moved into the small hilly town picture perfect in all respects. On the way to our hotel, we passed a large residential school. Imran stopped at the gate momentarily and then moved on. He looked longingly at the building inside as if his story someway, was closely associated with it.