The Funeral Feast

1

Lying on his sickbed, Seth Ramnath cast a frustrated glance at his wife, Susheela, and said, ‘I’m very unfortunate, Sheela. You always had to bear hardships with me. When there was nothing in the house, you were toiling day and night for household duties and the children. When things got a little better and your days of peace were at hand, I’m leaving you thus . . . Until now I had hopes of surviving, but now all my hopes are shattered. Look here, Sheela, don’t cry! Everyone dies in the world, a couple of years sooner or later. Now the responsibility of the household is laid upon you. I have not left any money behind, but your life will sustain somehow with whatever remains. Why is Raja weeping?’

Susheela wiped her tears. ‘He’s become obstinate, what else? Since morning he’s insisting on buying a motor car. Will a motor car cost any less than five rupees?’

Since the past few days, Sethji had become very affectionate towards the two children.

‘So why not get him one? The poor thing is weeping since long; what lofty desires he must have hid in his heart. All are turned to dust now. Also get an imported doll for Rani. She keeps yearning after others’ toys. The wealth that I held dearer than life has been consumed by the doctors in the end. How will the children remember me, that they had such a lousy father! The unfortunate father who considered wealth dearer than his children. I never bought them things worth a paisa.’

At the final moment, when the worthlessness of life stands out as a harsh truth, the regret for whatever one had left undone and the remorse for whatever one had done makes the heart generous and guileless.

Susheela beckoned Raja and holding him close to her heart, started weeping. The maternal affection which lay agonizing within her heart over her husband’s stinginess, raged over. But where was the money to buy a motor car?

Sethji said, ‘Will you buy a motor car, beta? Take some money from your amma and go with your sister. Buy a good-quality one.’

Raja’s childish obstinacy melted looking at his mother’s tears and his father’s affection.

‘Won’t buy it now.’

Sethji asked, ‘Why?’

‘Will buy it once you get well.’

Sethji broke into inconsolable tears.

2

Seth Ramnath passed away on the third day.

The life of the rich pains many and pleases very few. Their death pains very few and pleases many. On the one hand, the Mahabrahmin Mandali is appeased, the panditji is happy on the other, and perhaps the people of the community are also pleased that another equal among them is no more. A thorn is removed from the heart. And what to speak of the close associates? They will now settle old scores. Such an opportunity to soothe the aching heart has cropped up after long.

Today is the fifth day. The vast house lies deserted. The children neither cry, nor laugh. They sit half-heartedly near their mother, while the widow lies in a deathly state, weighed down by the countless uncertainties of the future. Whatever money had remained was given up for the cremation ceremony, and all other rituals were yet to be performed. Oh God, how will the raft sail through?

Someone called out at the gate. The servant informed about the arrival of Seth Dhaniram. Both the children ran out. Susheela’s heart grew hopeful for a moment. Seth Dhaniram was the head of the community. The troubled heart of the helpless woman turned optimistic at Sethji graciousness. After all, he’s the head of the community. If these people don’t take heed of the orphans, who will? These righteous people who protect the destitute in difficult times are blessed.

Thinking thus, Susheela drew out her veil and came to stand in the entrance hall. She saw that many other gentlemen apart from Dhaniramji had assembled there.

Dhaniram began, ‘Bahuji, only our heart knows the grief that we’ve suffered at the premature death of Bhai Ramnath. He was still young; but all is God’s will. Now our only duty is to have faith in God and find out a way for the future. It should be ensured that the honour of the house is preserved and the soul of Bhaiji too is content.’

Kuberdas looked at Susheela from the corner of his eye and said: ‘Dignity is a big thing. Our duty is to protect it. But it is improper to spend beyond one’s means. How much money do you have, bahu? What, nothing?’

Susheela replied, ‘Where is the money, Sethji? Whatever little was there, got spent during the illness.’

Dhaniram reacted, ‘So there is a new problem. What should we do in such a situation, Kuberdasji?’

Kuberdas answered, ‘Whatever you say, the feast will have to be organized. Yes, one should work according to one’s capabilities. I’ll not advice taking a loan. But yes, we shouldn’t leave any stone unturned for whatever money can be arranged at home. We do have a duty towards the dead. Now that he’ll never return, the ties with him are being severed forever. Hence, everything should be in accordance with the social status. A feast will have to be offered to the Brahmins to preserve the decorum.’

Dhaniram asked again, ‘So do you have absolutely nothing, Bahuji? Not even two or four thousand?’

Susheela replied, ‘I’m telling you the truth, I don’t have anything. Will I utter falsehood at such a time?’

Dhaniram looked at Kuberdas with partial disbelief and said: ‘Then this house will have to be sold.’

Kuberdas proposed, ‘What else can be done? It is not good to be disgraced. Ramnath was so popular, he was a pillar of the community. This is the only way out now. I have twenty thousand rupees on mortgage. Accounting for the interest and the discount, around twenty thousand will be payable to me. The rest will be spent on the feast. If anything remains, it will be useful for the children.’

Dhaniram asked, ‘How much was your mortgage on?’

Kuberdas replied instantly, ‘On twenty thousand rupees. Interest of a hundred rupees.’

Dhaniram prodded, ‘I’ve heard it was a little less.’

Kuberdas stood firm. ‘Its credit deed is there. It’s not an oral transaction. I’ll not lie for the sake of a couple of thousand.’

Dhaniram replied, ‘No, no, when did I say that? So have you heard it, Bhai? The Panch Council suggests that the house be sold off.’

Susheela’s younger brother Santlal too came in at this moment. The last sentence fell into his ears. He spoke out, ‘Why should the house be sold? For the feasting of the community? The community will go its way after the eating and drinking, but how will these orphans be protected? Some thought must be spared for their future too.’

Dhaniram looked at him angrily. ‘You have no right to poke your nose in these matters. Merely thinking about the future will not work. The hereafter of the departed must be secured somehow through proper rituals. What will you lose? We are the ones who will be laughed at. Nothing is dearer than dignity in the world. People lay down their lives for the sake of honour. What remains once honour is lost? If you ask for our suggestion, this is what we say. The rest is Bai’s choice. She may do as she pleases; but it will have nothing to do with us. Come, Kuberdasji, let’s go.’

Frightened, Susheela said, ‘Don’t bother about my bhaiya’s words, it is his habit. I haven’t ignored your suggestion; you are my elders. You know the state of the house. I don’t wish to agonize my husband’s soul, but when his children face hardships, won’t his soul be pained? The daughter has to be married. The son needs to be educated. Let the Brahmins be feasted, but I can’t afford to serve the community.’

It seemed as if both the gentlemen had been slapped—such a great injustice! Is such a thing fit to be uttered? The Panch Council will not let their faces be blackened. The world will not laugh at the widow but the Panch Council will be mocked. How can they tolerate ridicule from all quarters? It is a sin to even peep at the door of such a house.

Susheela wept. ‘I am an orphan, I’m naive, please don’t be angry with me. How will I fend for myself if all of you desert me?’

In the meantime, two more gentlemen came and seated themselves. One was very fat and the other too thin. Their names were according to their features: Bheemchand and Durbaldas. Dhaniram explained the situation to them in brief.

Durbaldas said sympathetically, ‘Why don’t we do this: that we all contribute some amount? Once her son grows up, we’ll get the money back. Even if we don’t get it back, bearing the loss for the sake of a friend is no big deal.’

Santlal became happy. ‘If you have such mercy, what else can we ask for?’

Frowning, Kuberdas raised his brows. ‘You are speaking without any rhyme or reason, Durbaldasji. In the market condition of these times, whoever has any money to spare?’

Bheemchand concurred. ‘That’s true, such a slack market has never been seen before. But one has to carry on.’

Kuberdas became numb. He had his heart firmly set on Susheela’s house. Such discussions stalled his selfish designs. Now he wanted to recover his money at all costs.

Bheemchand somehow woke him up ‘But the feast will have to be offered. Not fulfilling that duty is bringing disgrace to the society.’

Susheela saw a hint of sympathy in Durbaldas. She looked at him miserably. ‘I am not an outsider in your circle. You all are the masters, do as you all deem fit.’

Durbaldas quizzed her. ‘You will at least have some ornaments, bai?’

Susheela replied: ‘Yes, there are ornaments. Half of them were sold off during the illness, the other half remains.’

Susheela brought out the ornaments and placed them before the Panch; but these would only fetch three thousand with difficulty.

Durbaldas weighed the pouch in his hand. ‘How will they fetch three thousand only? I will get them sold for three and a half thousand.’

Then Bheemchand weighed the pouch. ‘My bid is for four thousand.’

Kuberdas again got the opportunity to rake up the issue of the house.

‘What will come out of just four thousand? Is it a feast for the community or just for wiping off the sins? There is an expenditure of at least ten thousand for the community feast. The house will have to be sold.’

Santlal chewed his lips. ‘I say, are you people so ruthless? Do you people feel no pity for the orphaned children? Will you leave them as beggars on the street?’

But no one paid attention to Santlal’s appeal. The discussion regarding the house could not be avoided any further. The market was sluggish. More than thirty thousand could be found, and twenty-five thousand was for Kuberdas. Five thousand would remain. Four thousand would come from the ornaments. Thus, within nine thousand, with great economy, both the Brahmins’ feast and the feast for the community could be managed.

With folded hands, Susheela put the two children in front of the Panch Council: ‘O Panch, look at the faces of my children. Whatever is there in my house, you can take all of it; but let the house be, for I’ll not get a foothold anywhere. I fall to your feet, please don’t sell the house now.’

What can be said of such stupidity? The Panch Council itself wanted that the house be not sold; the members did not harbour enmity towards the orphans, but was there another way to arrange for the community feast? If the widow is able to somehow arrange for another five thousand rupees, the house can be saved, but she cannot.

Kuber said in the end, ‘See, Bai, the condition of the market is bad at the moment. If it is written in the destiny of the children, then God will provide from another source. God creates pretexts for livelihood as for death. Don’t worry about the children. He arranges beforehand for the survival of those who are born. We’re tired of making you understand. If you still don’t leave your obstinacy, we won’t ask about anything. Then it will be difficult for you to live here. The city dwellers will be after you.’

What more could the widow Susheela do? How could she survive having fought with the Panch Council? Who can afford the enmity of a crocodile while living in water? She stood up to return to her house, but fainted on the spot. Till now, she had harboured some hope. She could have forgotten her widowhood in bringing up her children, but now there was darkness all around.

3

Seth Ramnath’s friends had complete rights over his house. If not for the friends, who else had the right? Of what worth is the woman? When she can’t understand something as simple as the fact that offering a community feast and doing it with pomp and show is a general necessity, it is useless to say anything else to her.

Who should buy the ornaments? Bheemchand had bid for four thousand, but now he felt that he had made a mistake. Durbaldas had bid for three thousand, hence the deal went to him. Durbaldas and Bheemchand had a conflict in this matter; but in the end, Bheemchand had to eat humble pie. Justice was in favour of Durbal.

Dhaniram remarked derisively, ‘Durbaldas, you are taking away the booty, but it is worth more than three thousand. I won’t allow justice to be compromised.’

Kuberdas said, ‘Aji, so what, it is within the home only, it hasn’t gone outside. One day all the friends can feast on it.’

On this, the four gentlemen laughed. Getting respite from this work, the question of the house arose. Kuberdas was ready to give thirty thousand, but without legal documentation, there was scope for suspicion. Why should this probability be retained? A broker was called. A dwarfish man with a toothless mouth, in his seventies. His name was Chokhelal.

Kuberdas introduced him. ‘My friendship with Chokhelalji is thirty years old. He’s a gem of a person.’

Bheemchand said: ‘Look, Chokhelal, we have to sell this house. Get us a good buyer. Your commission is guaranteed.’

Kuberdas added, ‘The market condition is not good. But we will have to see that Ramnath’s children do not suffer. ‘And then he whispered to Chokhelal, ‘Don’t go beyond thirty.’

Bheemchand interrupted. ‘Look, Kuberdas, this is not good.’

Kuberdas reacted, ‘So, what am I doing? I am just asking to fix a good rate.’

Chokhelal said, ‘You don’t need to tell me this. I understand my duty. Ramnathji was my friend too. I also know that not a paisa less than a lakh was spent in building this house, but the condition of the market is not unknown to you. At such times, it won’t fetch more than twenty-five thousand. Usually, from the right buyer, one can get five to ten thousand more; but at this time, any buyer will be hard to find. Also, this is the very nature of buying or selling transactions. While buying something, you end up paying more, and while selling something, you have to settle for the buyer’s rate.’

Dhaniram pressed further. ‘Twenty-five thousand is too less, bhai, if not more, at least get us up to thirty thousand!’

Chokhelal replied, ‘What’s thirty, I will get forty if a buyer is found. If you people say, I will negotiate for thirty thousand rupees.’

Dhaniram said thoughtfully, ‘If it has to sell for thirty thousand, why shouldn’t Kuberdasji get it? Why should such cheap goods be given to others?’

Kuberdas agreed. ‘If you all think so, this can be done.’

Dhaniram said, ‘Yes, yes’ and agreed. Bheemchand was left yearning within his heart. This deal was also fixed. The same day, the lawyer wrote the sale deed and the registry was done immediately too. The sale deed was brought in front of Susheela. She let out a cold sigh and, teary-eyed, put her signature to it. Now she does not have shelter anywhere except this. Having given her company in her good days, this house too is deserting her in bad days, like an unfaithful friend.

The Panch Council, sitting in Susheela’s courtyard, is preparing a document for the community, and sitting on the lattice window the orphaned widow is crying out her fate. When the document was completed, tears escaped from the widow’s eyes and fell upon it.

Dhaniram looked up and said, ‘Where did this splash of water come from?’

Santlal replied, ‘Bai is sitting and crying. She has stamped the document with her bloodied tears.’

Dhaniram addressed Susheela loudly, ‘Arré, why are you weeping, Bai? This is not the time to weep, you should be happy that the Panch have gathered in your house to do this auspicious deed. Why are you feeling aggrieved in amending the hereafter of the same husband with whom you indulged in worldly pleasures for many days?’

The document was circulated in the community.

Elsewhere, the Panch members spent three to four days in preparations for the feast. Ghee came from Dhaniram’s warehouse. The maida and sugar too came through him. In the morning of the fifth day, the Brahm-bhoj was held. In the evening, the community banquet was spread. Queues of carriages and motor cars stood at Susheela’s doorstep. There were rows of guests inside. The courtyard, the drawing room, the balcony, the entrance hall, the upper terrace, every place was filled with guests. People relished the food and praised the Panch Council.

Everyone spends money, but skilful arrangement is found wanting. Such tasty food is seldom found.

‘After Seth Champaram’s funeral feast, a similar feast has happened only for Seth Ramnath.’

‘The imartis are so crunchy!’

‘The rasgullas are stuffed with dry fruits!’

‘The entire credit goes to the Panch Council.’

Dhaniram said politely, ‘It is your generosity to say so, brothers. We were on brotherly terms with Ramnath. Who else would do this, if not us? For four days, we couldn’t catch a wink of sleep.’

‘You are blessed! Friends, if any, should be like you.’

‘How wonderful! You have upheld the dignity of Ramnathji’s name. The community only notices such food and offerings, it doesn’t go after the money.’

Praising and commenting thus, the guests were lapping up the food, while elsewhere, sitting in the cellar, Susheela wondered: ‘There are such selfish people in the world! The entire world has become selfish! Everyone is having food, stroking their bellies. No one bothers to ask whether anything is left for the orphans.’

4

One month passed. Susheela was hard up for money. There was no cash, while the ornaments had been sold. Now a few utensils were left. On the other hand, many small bills had to be settled. Susheela owed some money to the doctor, the tailor and the grocer each. Susheela had to repay them by selling the remaining items of the house. By the end of the month, nothing was left. Poor Santlal was a munim in a shop. Sometimes he stopped by and gave a rupee or two. Here the expenditures were getting out of hand.

The children understood their plight. They never bothered their mother, but whenever a street vendor passed by and they saw other children having fruits or sweets, their mouth watered and their eyes brimmed with tears. They stared with such greedy eyes that it evoked pity. The same children who, till a few days back, did not even look at dry fruits or sweets, were now craving for things worth a mere paisa. The same gentlemen who had organized the community feast, now passed by the house but no one bothered to peep inside.

It was evening. Susheela was making chapattis on the chulha, and both children perched near the chulha, were looking at the chapattis hungrily. Cooking on the other side of the chulha was the dal. They were waiting for the dal to get prepared. The girl was eleven years old, while the boy was eight.

Growing impatient, Mohan said, ‘Amma, give me the dry chapattis itself. I am very hungry.’

Susheela replied, ‘The dal is still uncooked, bhaiya.’

Revati said, ‘I have a paisa. I shall buy some curd.’

Susheela answered, ‘Where did you find the paisa?’

Revati said, ‘I found it yesterday in my box of dolls.’

Susheela replied, ‘But return soon.’

Revati ran outside and in a while returned with a little curd on a leaf. Ma gave him the chapatti. He started eating it with the curd. He too was selfish like other boys. He did not even ask his sister.

Susheela looked at him sternly. ‘Give some to your sister. Will you eat it alone?’

Mohan felt ashamed. His eyes welled up.

Revati said, ‘No, Amma, see how little came of a paisa. Eat, Mohan, you have a habit of sleeping early. I’ll eat once the dal is ready.’

At that moment, two men called from outside. Revati went out and inquired. These were Seth Kuberdas’s men. They had come to get the house vacated. Susheela’s eyes turned red with anger.

She came to the entrance hall and said, ‘It is barely a month since my husband’s death, and now he is bent upon evacuating the house? My house worth fifty thousand was bought for thirty thousand, five thousand was charged as interest, and still there is no peace? Tell him I won’t vacate now.’

The munim said politely, ‘Baiji, what is my authority? I’m merely a messenger. Once a thing belongs to someone else, you are bound to let go of it. What is the use of wrangling?’

Susheela also realized what the man said was true. After being marked out for slaughter, how long can the cow graze?

Softening, she said, ‘Tell Sethji to give me a respite of five to ten days. But no, don’t say anything. Why take someone’s favour for five to ten days? If my destiny was to live in this house, it wouldn’t have slipped away in the first place.’

The munim asked, ‘So will it be vacant by tomorrow morning?’

‘Yes, yes, I am saying so; but why wait till morning, I’ll vacate it right now. What great items have I got? Your Sethji’s rent of the night should not be wasted. Go fetch a lock, or have you brought it already?’

‘What is the hurry, bai! You can vacate it tomorrow taking your time.’

‘Why keep the trouble for tomorrow? Munimji, please get the lock and latch it up.’

Having said this, Susheela went inside. She served food to the children, and somehow swallowing a chapatti herself, washed the dishes; then, hailing a tonga, she loaded her sparse belongings on to it and, with a heavy heart, bid farewell to the house forever.

The house had been built upon the foundation of many cherished aspirations. For the griha pravesh ceremony many thousands of Brahmins were feasted. Susheela had to work so hard that she had been unwell for an entire month. Two of her children had died in this house. Her husband had passed away here. The memories of the dead had purified each brick of the house. It was as if each stone was happy in her happiness and saddened in her sorrow. Now she was being forced to leave that house.

She spent the night at a neighbour’s house, and the next day, she rented a house in a lane for ten rupees a month.

5

The difficulty with which the orphans spent three months in the new house can only be understood by those with empathy. Poor Santlal be blessed! He was helping them as far as his means permitted. Had Susheela hailed from a poor family, she would have ground spices, stitched clothes, served at someone’s house, but how could she lean upon works considered inferior by the community? People would have commented, ‘This is Seth Ramnath’s wife!’ The honour of that name had to be preserved too! There is no respite from the chakravyuh of society. A few of the girl’s ornaments had remained, but they too were sold off. When the food itself was hard to manage, how to arrange the rent? Three months later, the landlord and owner of the house, who was an honourable member of the same community, and who had heartily enjoyed the funeral feast, became impatient. Poor man, how long could he persevere? It was a matter of thirty rupees, not of a mere rupee or eight annas. Such a big amount could not be just given away.

Finally, one day, Sethji came around and, showing his anger, said, ‘If you cannot pay the rent, vacate the house. I showed such consideration towards you for the sake of the community. Now there is no way to work things out.’

Susheela pleaded, ‘Sethji, if I had any money, I would have first paid your rent before even drinking water. You have shown such consideration, for this, I lay my head at your feet, but right now, I’m empty-handed. Consider that you are nurturing a brother’s children, what else can I say?’

Sethji was adamant. ‘Go, now, I’ve heard many such statements. If one is a member of the community, suck him dry. If it were a Muslim, you would have paid him secretly every month, otherwise he would have thrown you out, and since I belong to the community, it is not essential to pay me the rent? I shouldn’t even ask for it? This is what should be done with one’s own community!’

At that time, Revati arrived and stood watching. Sethji looked at her from head to toe and then for some reason said, ‘Okay, so this girl has come of age. Haven’t you fixed her engagement somewhere?’

Revati bolted straightaway from the scene. Susheela felt a twinge of kinship in these words and said elatedly: ‘There hasn’t been any discussion yet, Sethji. I can’t even pay the rent, how will I get her engaged? And then, she’s still young.’

Sethji immediately gave references from the scriptures. ‘This is the correct age for the marriage of young girls. One should never forget dharma. The rent is not an issue. We had no idea that this was the state of Seth Ramnath’s family.’

Susheela asked, ‘Is there a suitable family in your mind? You know the fact that I have nothing to give.’

Jhabarmal answered (for this was the name of the seth), ‘There is no question of dowry, baiji. It is the kind of house where the girl will be happy forever. Her brother can stay with her too. The family is of good lineage, prosperous in every way. But he is a widower.’

‘He should be of a decent age. How does it matter if he is a widower?’

‘He’s not that old, it is just his fortieth year. But he is good, hale and hearty to look at. A man’s age is calculated according to his food intake. Just understand that your family will be liberated.’

Susheela said unwillingly, ‘Okay, I will think about it and then reply. Show him to me once.’

‘No need to go anywhere to show him, bai, he is standing in front of you.’

Susheela looked at him with disgust. This fifty-year-old man is so lusty! The flesh of his chest has hung to his belly and still he nurses the ardent desire for marriage! This wretch thinks that giving in to temptations, I will tie my daughter to his neck.

Susheela would keep her daughter a virgin all her life, but she would not spoil her life by marrying her to this corpse of a man. But she controlled her anger. It was these troubled times, otherwise how would such an old man even dare to make such a proposal to her. She said, ‘Thank you, Sethji, but I cannot marry my daughter to you.’

‘So what do you think, that you will get a virgin man in the community for your daughter?’

‘My daughter will remain a virgin.’

‘And tarnish the name of Ramnathji?’

‘Don’t you feel ashamed saying such things to me? For the sake of the name, I lost my house, my possessions, but I can’t push my daughter into a well.’

‘Then give me my rent.’

‘I don’t have the money right now.’

Jhabarmal entered the house and threw out every household item into the lane. The earthen pot burst and the smaller pots broke into pieces. The clothes in the trunk lay scattered. Susheela stood rooted, looking at the cruel way her misfortune was playing out.

After destroying the household, Jhabarmal locked the house and left, threatening to extort the money through the court.

6

The high and mighty have wealth, while the low and humble have a heart. With money, big businesses are run, palatial houses are made, there are servants, and travels and hunts are undertaken. Sympathy emanates from the heart and tears flow out.

Adjacent to the same house was the shop of an old woman vegetable seller. Old and a widow, she was a childless woman, fire without and water within. Unleashing hundreds of curses on Jhabarmal, she picked up each one of Susheela’s items and carried them to her house.

‘Live in my house, Bahu. I restrained out of courtesy, else I would’ve pulled out his moustache. Death is hovering on his head, he has no kith or kin to look after, and he is still dying after wealth. As if he will load it on to his chest as he leaves the world. You can come and stay in my house. There is no problem here, I live alone. You could give me a piece or two of whatever you cook.’

Susheela was scared and said, ‘Mata, I don’t have anything except a seer of flour. How will I pay your rent?’

The old woman said, ‘Bahu, I’m neither Jhabarmal, nor Kuberdas. I understand that life has its share of happiness and sorrow. Don’t be proud in happy days and do not worry in the hard days. From people like yourself, I manage to earn four paise and fill my belly. I have seen you when you lived in that palace and I am seeing you today as well when you are an orphan. You have the same temperament. I’m fortunate that you have come to my house. Have I turned blind that I should ask you for rent?’

Those simple words of consolation eased Susheela’s heart. She saw that true goodness and humanity lay with the poor and downtrodden. The pity shown by the rich and mighty is simply another form of arrogance.

Susheela had been living with the old vegetable-seller for six months. Susheela’s affection towards her grew every day. She placed her entire earnings in Susheela’s hands. Both the children were as dear to her as her eyes. No neighbour could dare to look at them harshly—the old woman would raise a storm. Santlal brought something or the other every month. They could manage the food on that.

It was the month of Kartik. Fever was in the air. One day, the usually lively Mohan fell ill and lay unconscious for three days. His fever was so high that a person standing close to him could feel the heat. The old woman ran from ojhas to experienced men, but the fever did not subside at all. Susheela feared it to be typhoid. The very thought scared her to death.

On the fourth day, she asked Revati, ‘Beti, you have seen the senior Panchji’s house. Go tell him that bhaiya is sick and request him to send a doctor.’

Revati only had to be told. She ran over to Seth Kuberdas.

Kuberdas said, ‘The doctor’s fees is sixteen rupees. Will your mother be able to pay?’

Hopelessly, Revati replied, ‘How would Amma have any money?’

Kuberdas retorted, ‘Then with what face does she call for my doctor? Where is your mama? Go and ask him to bring a doctor from the Seva Samiti. Or why doesn’t your mother take the boy to a charitable hospital? Or is her old pride intact? What a stupid woman, doesn’t have a penny at home, and is ordering for a doctor. She must be thinking that Panchji will pay the fees. Why should Panchji pay the fees? The money of the community is for pious deeds, not for throwing away like this!’

Revati returned to her mother. But she couldn’t bring herself to say whatever she had heard. Why rub salt into a wound? She made an excuse: the senior Panchji had gone somewhere.

Susheela replied angrily: ‘So why didn’t you tell the munim? Was anyone gorging on sweets here that you rushed back?’

That moment Santlal arrived with Vaidyaji.

7

The vaidya too came only once and did not come again. The doctors from the Sewa Samiti too came for two days after much pleading. Thereafter they were too busy, and Mohan’s condition deteriorated every day. A month had passed, but the fever did not drop a bit. His face had shrunk so much that it evoked pity. He couldn’t talk, or say anything, and was even unable to turn on his side. Lying thus, his skin cracked and the hair from his head started falling. His hands and feet turned wooden. Santlal turned up whenever he got leave from work, but nothing came of it as caretaking is not the same as medicine.

One evening Mohan’s hands fell cold. The mother’s spirit was already broken. Seeing her son in such a condition, she started beating her chest and weeping. Many prayers and vows had already been offered. Crying, she took seven rounds of Mohan’s bed, folded her hands and said, ‘O God, this is the sole earning of my life. Having lost my all, I was still contented holding my son to my heart; but I will not be able to bear this blow! Heal him and take my life instead. That’s all, I desire just this much mercy, O merciful!’

Who can understand the mysteries of the world! Don’t many of us have the experience of losing twice the amount whenever we swindled some money? Susheela caught fever that night, and Mohan’s fever was gone. She had already reduced to half her size in taking care of the child, and now this illness gripped her. Who knows whether the gods were listening and taking note, but her prayers came true, just as she had spoken them.

On the fifteenth day, Mohan got up from his charpoy, came to his mother and, placing his head on her chest, started weeping. Mother put her arms around his neck, pressed him to her chest, and said, ‘Why do you weep, son? I will get well. What worries do I have now? God is the nurturer. He is your protector. He is your father. Now I’m reassured from all sides. I’ll get well quickly.’

Mohan said, ‘Jiya says, “Amma will not recover.”’

Susheela kissed the boy. ‘Jiya is mad, let her say. I’ll not go anywhere and leave you. I’ll always be with you. But, yes, the day you commit a crime, or pick up someone else’s things, I will die.’

Mohan became happy. ‘So you will never leave me, Ma?’

Susheela said, ‘Never, my son, never.’

That night, the widow, struck by sorrow and adversity, passed away, leaving her two orphaned children in the custody of God.

8

It is three years since that incident. Mohan and Revati stay with the same old woman. The old woman is not their mother, but she means much more to them. Every morning she feeds Mohan the chapattis left overnight and leaves him at Guruji’s school. Then she fetches him back after school hours. This is Revati’s fourteenth year. She does all the household chores—grinding, pounding, cooking, washing the utensils, dusting and sweeping. When the old woman goes off to sell the wares, Revati manages the shop too.

One day the senior Panch, Seth Kuberdas, summoned her. ‘Aren’t you ashamed of sitting in the shop, disgracing the entire community? Don’t you dare sit again in the shop from tomorrow! I have secured Jhabarmalji for your panigrahan.’

His wife, the sethani, supported him. ‘You’ve grown up now, beti, it’s not good for you to sit in the shop like this. People are saying all kinds of things. Seth Jhabarmal wouldn’t have agreed at all, we’ve persuaded him with great effort. Simply understand this, you’ll live like a queen! He has assets worth lakhs—lakhs! You are fortunate to have found such a groom. You have a younger brother, he’ll also be found a shop.’

Seth Kuberdas added, ‘Such a disgrace to the community.’

Sethani agreed. ‘So it is.’

Revati was embarrassed. ‘What do I know, you should talk to my maama.’

Seth retorted angrily, ‘Who is he to interfere? Does accountancy for barely a penny. What should I ask him? I’m the Panch of the community. I have the right to act for the welfare of the community. I have taken the opinion of the other Panch members. Everyone has agreed. If you don’t agree this way, we will begin court proceedings. You will need money for expenses—here, take this!’

Saying this, he threw twenty-rupee notes at Revati.

Revati picked them up, tore them into pieces right there and, her face turning red with anger, said, ‘The community did not ask about us when we were struggling for food. My mother passed away, but no one did as much as peep in. My brother fell sick, no one bothered to inquire. I don’t care for such a community.’

After Revati left, Jhabarmal came out of the cellar where he was hiding. His face bore dejection.

The sethani remarked, ‘The girl is very arrogant. She has lost all shame.’

Jhabarmal wailed, ‘My twenty rupees are wasted. They are torn so badly that they can’t even be glued back together.’

Kuberdas consoled him. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll settle her through the court. Where can she go?’

Jhabarmal conceded. ‘You are my only hope now.’

How can the words of the senior Panch of the community be untrue? Revati was a minor. Her parents were no more. In such a case, the Panch Council had full authority over her. If she doesn’t wish to stay within the community’s diktat, let her not. The law cannot disregard the community’s authority.

Santlal heard about the matter and ground his teeth. ‘When will God terminate this community!’

Revati asked him. ‘Can the community forcibly take me under its authority?’

‘Yes, beti, the law also rests in the hands of those who have money.’

‘I’ll say clearly that I don’t want to live with him.’

‘What will come of your statement? If this is written in your fate, who can change it? I am going to the senior Panch.’

‘No, Maamaji, don’t go anywhere. If the only hope lies in destiny, then whatever is destined will happen.’

Revati somehow spent the night at home. She repeatedly hugged her sleeping brother. Her heart grew distressed thinking about how this orphan would live alone; but remembering Jhabarmal’s face, her resolve became firm.

In the morning, Revati went for a bath in the Ganga. This had been her daily ritual since the past many months. Today, it was a bit dark, but this was nothing strange. Suspicion grew when she did not return home till eight in the morning. By the third quarter of the day, the news of Seth Ramnath’s daughter having drowned in the Ganga had spread in the entire community. Her body was recovered.

Kuberdas said, ‘Okay, it is good. At least the community will no longer be disgraced.’

Jhabarmal said with a heavy heart, ‘Please find some other way out for me.’

Elsewhere, Mohan was banging his head and weeping, and the old woman was consoling him. ‘Beta, why do you cry for that Devi? Her life was full of sorrow. Now she is resting in her mother’s lap.’

Translated from the Hindi by Kalyanee Rajan