The Holi Gift

1

Amarkant was heading out when Maikulal came over to play chess.

Maiku asked, ‘Are you going out somewhere, bhai? Come, let’s play a couple of games if you have the time.’

Keeping his mirror and comb in a chest, Amarkant replied, ‘No, brother, I’m not free at all. I’m going to my in-laws’ tomorrow. I’ve to pack my luggage.’

‘And you’re making preparations already? It’s within walking distance from here. You’re going there for the first time, I take it?’

‘Yes, yaar, I haven’t been there even once. I was in no mood to pay a visit right now but my father-in-law insisted on it.’

‘Then you don’t need to pack so much. You’ll be there in half an hour even if you leave tomorrow evening.’

‘I already have butterflies in my stomach. Till now, I had only been revelling in the thought of seeing my wife again. That thought is about to become a reality now. Thoughts are beautiful, who knows what the reality might be like!’

‘So, have you picked up a present for her? Don’t you dare go empty-handed there, else you’ll be taunted endlessly.’

Amarkant had not thought of any presents. He was still a novice in this art.

Maiku advised, ‘Oh dear, so pick one now! You’re going there for the first time. Imagine what she’ll feel like if you go there without any gift.’

Amar asked, ‘So, what present should I pick for her? This never crossed my mind. Suggest something that is both economical as well as the finest, because I also have to send some money home. My father has asked for it.’

Maiku did not live with his parents. Sarcastically, he said, ‘Of course! How can you say no when your father has asked for it! This is no ordinary matter.’

Without catching the drift of the irony, Amarkant replied, ‘Indeed, that’s why I didn’t even go for new clothes this Holi. But because it’s also compulsory to carry a gift, I’ll have to pick something or the other. Suggest something inexpensive.’

An exchange of ideas followed between the two friends, for the subject was of utmost importance. It alone could ensure whether the future of conjugal life would be joyous or otherwise. If leaving a good impression on one’s first visit to the in-laws’ can have a lasting effect on your married life, is the first gift an insignificant matter? They kept racking their brains for quite a while but nothing came of it.

Just then a Parsi woman sporting a new-fashioned sari happened to pass by in her motor car. Maiku said, ‘Now if you pick a sari like that, she’ll definitely be very happy. Just how divine is its colour, how extraordinary its appearance! It has certainly caught my eye. You can purchase it from Hashim’s shop for twenty-five rupees.’

Amarkant too had been irresistibly attracted by that sari. How happy would his wife be to see a sari like that! And how perfectly would it suit her fair skin! He was absorbed in such fancies. He replied, ‘Yes, my friend, I too like it. But I’m afraid Hashim’s shop is being picketed.’

‘So be it. Those who want to buy, they always do. It’s their wish. They buy whatever they feel like buying. It’s not as if it’s anyone’s goddamn business.’

Amarkant replied, somewhat apologetically, ‘That’s true. But it won’t be possible for me to go past the volunteers and enter the shop. On top of it, the place is always crowded with onlookers.’

Maiku said, as if making allowances for his cowardice, ‘So go through the back door, then. There is no picketing there.’

‘Can’t it be bought from some indigenous shop?’

‘You won’t find it anywhere except Hashim’s shop.’

2

Evening fell, and the charms of Aminabad were just beginning to reveal themselves. The sun had left traces of its splendour in what appeared like glowing bubbles of light. Amarkant furtively arrived at Hashim’s shop. The volunteers were picketing, and the spectators had turned up in large numbers. A couple of times or so, he made up his mind to go inside. But his spirit deserted him by the time he reached the footpath.

However, it was imperative to buy a sari. His mind had been fixated on it and he could not wait any longer. Finally, he decided to go in through the back door. He went near it and saw that there was no volunteer there. He quickly rushed inside and within twenty minutes or so, returned to the same spot, with a new-fashioned sari. But within this short span, circumstances had taken a dramatic turn. The volunteers had arrived. For a minute, Amarkant doubtfully stood there at the door. He then left in a hurry and kept running without caring for directions. But alas, misfortune still followed him. An old woman, leaning on a stick, was coming his way. Amarkant collided with her. The old woman fell and started swearing at him, ‘Are you wilfully blind or what? Don’t you see me? The flowers of your youth too shall wither someday.’

Amarkant’s feet could not carry him any further. He helped the old woman to her feet and was apologizing to her, when three volunteers appeared from behind and surrounded him. One of them laid his hands on the new sari and said, ‘You’re not allowed to purchase foreign clothes. And on top of it, you didn’t respond when we called you!’

The second one said, ‘You ran away like a thief.’

The third one added, ‘Thousands of men are being arrested and put in jail, isn’t it? The entire country is facing a crisis and he hasn’t had enough of foreign clothes!’

Amarkant tightened his grip on the sari with both hands and asked, ‘Will you all just let me go or not?’

The first volunteer again reached out for the sari and answered, ‘How can we? You can never leave from here with foreign clothes.’

Amarkant held the sari tightly in his hand and said, ‘You can’t stop me on any account.’

He started walking away, but two of the volunteers immediately lay down before him. The poor fellow was in a real fix now. He had been forced to face up to the very misfortune that he had wanted to avoid. In a trice, scores of men gathered there and began making snide remarks.

‘Seems like a gentleman.’

‘And these people call themselves educated. What a shame! Every day, around five to ten people get arrested at that shop. But what do you care?’

‘Snatch the sari and report this to the police.’

Amarkant stood there, like a poor fellow bound in chains. He could not think of a way out of this difficult situation. He was furious at Maikulal who had brought this affliction upon him. He had never cared about presents. It was that wretch who had suggested otherwise.

For some time, people kept commenting on him and then the ritual of ‘snatch and grab’ began. Someone made off with his cap. When Amarkant turned his attention towards him, someone else snatched the sari from his hands. And then, within no time, it disappeared into the crowd.

Exasperated, Amarkant said, ‘I’ll go and file a police report about this.’

One man replied, ‘Yes, yes, do that by all means and send us all to the gallows.’

Suddenly, a young woman wearing a plain khadi sari and carrying a jhola on her shoulder happened to pass that way. Seeing this quarrel, she inquired, ‘What’s the matter? Why are you all troubling this gentleman?’

Amarkant felt somewhat comforted. He went near her and began complaining, ‘These people have confiscated my clothes and have hidden it somewhere. This is nothing but plain robbery. It’s neither satyagraha nor proof of one’s love for the country.’

The young woman assured him, ‘Don’t worry. You’ll get your clothes back. These people must be having them. What clothes were they, exactly?’

One of the volunteers replied, ‘Sister, he has bought these clothes from Hashim’s shop.’

The young woman said, ‘He can buy it from wherever he feels like. You have no right to confiscate his clothes. Why don’t you return them to him? Who has them?’

Amarkant felt somewhat embarrassed and forgot everything about self-will—a topic that he otherwise boasted about with his friends. He said, ‘It was a woman’s wish, therefore I was helpless.’

‘Didn’t you reason with her?’

‘I did, but to no avail. But if you had done the same, some good sense might have prevailed.’

‘I’ll certainly do that if I get the opportunity. A man’s fate is in a woman’s hands now, is it? Which mohalla do you live in?’

‘In Saadatganj.’

‘And your name is?’

‘Amarkant.’

The maiden immediately pulled up the end of her sari a bit, to cover her face, bowed her head, and asked in a somewhat hesitant and affectionate tone, ‘But your wife hasn’t moved into your house, how could she possibly have ordered this?’

Amarkant inquired, ‘Which mohalla do you live in?’

‘Gasiyaari Mandi.’

‘And what are the odds of your name being Sukhda Devi?’

‘Quite good. There are so many women of this name.’

‘And is your father’s name Shri Jwala Dutt?’

‘There can be so many men of that name too.’

Amarkant took out a matchbox from his pocket and burnt the sari, right there, in front of Sukhda.

Sukhda asked, ‘Will you be coming tomorrow?’

Amarkant answered in a somewhat restrained tone, ‘No, Sukhda, I won’t. Not until I’ve made amends for this.’

Sukhda was about to say something more when Amarkant quickened his pace and walked to the other side.

3

Today is Holi but for those who are intoxicated with the spirit of freedom, there is neither Holi nor the season of spring. Even today, picketing is going on outside Hashim’s shop, and onlookers have gathered. Amarkant too is among the volunteers who are picketing today. He is sporting a khadi kurta and a khadi dhoti, and is carrying the tricolour in his hands.

One of the volunteers said, ‘The respected ones feel bad when they are accused of something. Just look at you! What you were yesterday and what you are now. Had Sukhda Devi not arrived, things would’ve been tricky.’

Amarkant replied, ‘And for that, I thank you all. I wouldn’t have been here today had it not been for all of you.’

‘You shouldn’t have come here today. Sukhda behen was saying that “I won’t let him go today.”’

‘After yesterday’s humiliation, I’m not even worthy of showing my face to her. When a young woman like her can do so much, why can’t we, who’ve been made to endure hardships of all kinds? More so, when we are not burdened with the responsibility of raising children.’

Just then, a police van arrived. A subinspector stepped out, approached the volunteers, and said, ‘You are all under arrest.’

The cries of ‘Vandemataram’ and ‘Hail Motherland’ echoed all around. There was some commotion among the onlookers. The volunteers advanced a couple of steps; Amarkant was leading the pack. The van was about to leave when Sukhda came running out of somewhere.

Right then, Sukhda went and stood before the shop, and said, ‘Buying and sporting foreign clothes is treason.’

Translated from the Hindi by Shailendra Kumar Singh