The Flame of Love

1

Buti had turned quite caustic in her temperament ever since the death of her husband. At times of excessive heartburn, she cursed her dead husband, ‘You yourself left for the other world but left behind these worries for me! Why did you marry if you had to go away so early? No money in the house but you wanted to marry!’ She could have remarried if she had wanted to. Ahirs, the cow herders, do have this tradition, and not that she was ugly to look at. Two men were ready to marry her but she could not overcome the desire of being known as a devoted wife. And all this frustration was vented out on Mohan, her elder son, who was now sixteen. Sohan was still a child and Maina a girl. These two were not good for anything as yet. If only the three children were not there, she would not have to bear this agony. She could have worked for and lived with anybody, and could have gone away with anyone at will. But if she did that now, people would talk. They would taunt her and question the sanity of this mother of three. Mohan, for sure, tried his best to help her. He did all the work, tending to and feeding the cows and buffaloes, and milking them, but none of this made Buti happy. She sought out some or the other issue every day to fight over, and by and by, even Mohan stopped paying much attention to her tantrums. Her recurring complaint was why the husband had to die, burdening her with the responsibilities of the family. His death felt utterly devastating to her! She could not enjoy the pleasures of good food and good clothes, nor of anything else. It was as if she had been thrown into a pit of fire! There was a constant struggle between her desire for the glory of widowhood and the insatiable thirst for worldly pleasures. This fire within her had incinerated all the kinder feelings of her heart. If nothing, the husband had left behind jewellery worth some four or five hundred rupees, but now even that had been exhausted. In her own neighbourhood and in her own community, there were many women, women even older than her, who wore jewellery, kohl and a thick line of vermilion in the parting of their hair, as if taunting her deprivation, which is why whenever any of them became a widow, Buti would rejoice, and all her frustrations and jealousies were vented on her children, especially Mohan. She probably wanted to see all the women in the world in her own image. She derived a special pleasure out of hate. In the absence of water, even a drop of dew would have satiated her frustrated thirst. How, then, could it be possible for her to hear any gossip about Mohan and not make a scene out of it? In the evening, the moment Mohan returned after having sold the milk, Buti lashed out, ‘I see, you are intent on becoming a lover boy.’

Mohan looked at her questioningly. ‘What lover boy? What’s the matter?’

She vented, ‘Don’t you dally with Rupiya on the sly? And then you say what lover boy? Aren’t you ashamed? Here we are strained for every paisa but you still lavish her with betel leaves and get her clothes dyed!’

Mohan assumed a rebellious posture. ‘What could I do if she asked me for betel leaves worth a few paise? Ask her to pay? Could I charge her if she gave me her sari for dyeing?’

She continued to argue, ‘Are you the only rich man in this village? Why could she not ask anyone else?’

‘That she would know. How can I tell?’

‘You want to play the chhaila, the Casanova! Have you ever got home a betel leaf worth even a paisa?’

‘Who would I get the betel leaves here for?’

‘Why? Has everybody died in your own family?’

‘I wasn’t aware you wanted to chew betel leaves.’

‘Why? Is Rupiya the only one in the whole wide world to eat a betel leaf?’

Now Mohan turned cruel. ‘Such hobbies look decent only at a particular age.’

This remark singed Buti. Calling her an old woman was tantamount to disregarding her whole penance. What is the merit of such penance in old age? What a jolt to the imagined sacrifices which made her walk around other women with her head held high! She ruined her youth only for these children! It had been five years since her husband had died. She was in the prime of her youth then. God had burdened her with three children. After all, she was not really advanced in her years. If she had wanted to, she could have also strutted around with glossed lips, heels dyed with Rose Bengal and toes decorated with jewellery. She sacrificed all of it only for the children and today Mohan had the audacity to call her an old woman! Compared to her, that Rupiya would surely look like a shrivelled mouse. Even so, Mohan thought her young and Buti old.

Buti continued, ‘Right! What else! Surely now I must only wear tatters. When your father died, I was just a few years older than Rupiya. If I had remarried then, you people would have been ruined. You would have been begging then. Anyway, let me make it clear that if you speak to her again, then only one of us will live here any more. Either you or I!’

Mohan now spoke diffidently, ‘I have given her my word, Amma.’

‘What word?

‘Of engagement.’

Buti could not stand this. She warned, ‘I will chase her out with a broom if she even steps into this house. It’s all her mother’s evil magic. That bitch wants to snatch away my boy from me. That whore can’t stand it that I have some things to me. She wants to plant another woman in my house!’

Mohan replied in a pained voice, ‘Amma, for God’s sake, keep quiet. Why should you yourself throw away your dignity? I only thought that Maina will soon get married and go away. This will leave you alone. Which is why I thought of Rupiya. But if you don’t like it, then let it be.’

‘Today onwards, you must sleep here itself in the courtyard.’

‘And leave the cattle outside?’

‘Let them be. They won’t get stolen.’

‘You suspect me so much?’

‘Yes!’

‘Then I won’t sleep here.’

‘Then get out of my house.’

‘All right, I will leave if that is what you want,’ declared Mohan.

That night Maina cooked dinner, but Mohan declined to eat saying he was not hungry. Buti did not bother to placate him. Mohan’s adolescent heart could in no way tolerate her draconian ways. He was thinking that she could have her house to herself and he would find other means for himself. Rupiya had infused his mundane and insipid life with a certain joy. When he was getting giddy with an unexpressed desire and felt his life to be gloomy and forlorn, Rupiya had walked into his life like the first breeze of spring and infused new life into him. Mohan experienced a new sweetness in life. Even while tending to a chore, he would only think of Rupiya, and try to think of gifts that would please her. But how could he face her now? Could he tell her that his mother had forbidden him from meeting her? It was only yesterday that they had exchanged sweet nothings under the banyan tree. Mohan had told her, ‘How beautiful you are, Rupa! There must be hundreds of men after you. What can I provide for you in my house?’ Rupiya’s reply to this question still echoes through the depth of his soul, like notes of music. She had said, ‘I love you, Mohan, only you. Even if you become the district headman, you will be the same for me. If a labourer, then too you will be the same.’ To the same Rupiya, could he today say this, ‘Now I have nothing to give you’?

No, this could be done. He did not care for the family. He could stay with Rupiya, away from his mother. If not in this locality, then somewhere else. He was thinking, Even at this moment, Rupiya must be waiting for me. How nicely she prepares the betel leaf! If Amma gets to know that I have been to Rupiya’s house at night, she might even kill herself. Let her kill herself! She should rather thank her stars for getting such a nice daughter-in-law. Wonder why she is so piqued with Rupiya. Just because she chews some betel nut, and wears her sari dyed?

The clank of bangles was heard from somewhere nearby. It must be Rupiya.

She approached his bedside to check on him. ‘Have you slept, Mohan? I have been waiting for you. Why didn’t you come?’

Mohan kept pretending he was asleep.

She petted his head and called again, ‘Have you slept, Mohan?’

Who could know what magic was there in those gentle fingers. It made Mohan delirious, down to his very soul. It wanted to fly out of his body and surrender itself at Rupiya’s feet. A goddess had appeared to grant boons. The universe seemed to be dancing. He felt a sensation as if his entire body had etherized and he was dancing with the universe clinging to his lap like some sweet musical note.

Rupiya repeated, ‘Slept already? Have you?’

Mohan said, ‘Haan, I had dozed off for a bit. What have you come for at this hour? Amma will kill me if she sees you.’

‘Why didn’t you come today?’

‘I fought with Amma today.’

‘What did she say?’

‘She said that she will kill herself if I meet you.’

‘Didn’t you ask her why she is so piqued with me?’

‘What can I say about her, Rupa. She can’t stand anybody’s enjoyment of food and dress. You should now stay away from me.’

‘My heart won’t allow that.’

‘If you speak like this, I will run away with you.’

‘All I want from you is to meet me at least once every day. Nothing more.’

‘And what if Amma reprimands me for it?’

‘I get it. You don’t love me.’

‘If I had my way, I would have you for all my life.’

Just then somebody came at the door. Rupiya ran away.

Next day when Mohan woke up, he felt within himself an ocean of pleasure and peace. Earlier, he would only scold Sohan, who was a lazy person and did not take interest in any work at home. Today as well, he was looking for an opportunity to slip away with a bar of soap hidden in his dhoti.

Today, Mohan smiled and said to him, ‘Has your dhoti become too dirty, Sohan? Why don’t you give it to the washerman?’

Sohan smelt the fragrance of love in these words.

‘The washerman’s wife demands money.’

‘Then why don’t you ask Amma for the money?’

‘When has Amma given any money?’

‘Then take it from me!’

Saying this, he tossed a one-paisa coin towards Sohan, which made Sohan very happy. He was always reproached by his mother and brother. Today, after a long time he tasted the sweetness of love. He picked up the coin and leaving the dhoti behind, he untethered the cow and made to go out with her.

Mohan said, ‘Let her be. I will take her out today.’

Handing over the tether to his brother, Sohan asked, ‘Should I fill up your pipe?’

For the first time in his life, Sohan expressed such amity for his brother. Mohan could not decipher the secret behind this, but said, ‘If there is fire available, then do.’

Maina, her hair untied, was building a doll’s house in the courtyard. When she saw Mohan, she at once broke the house, covered her hair with the fringe of her scarf and started cleaning the utensils in the kitchen.

Mohan asked her, ‘What game were you playing, Maina?’

Scared, Maina replied, ‘Why? Nothing at all.’

‘You make very good houses. Make one so that I can see.’

All of a sudden, Maina’s sad face brightened up. How magical are the words of love! They spread a fragrance the moment they escape from the lips. They lighten up the heart of anyone who hears them. It drives away fear, and ushers in trust. It clears away bitterness to replace it with amity. It makes everything lively. No sloth, no glumness. Today, Mohan’s heart was full of love and it was spreading its fragrance all around.

Maina went back to building her dollhouse.

Mohan, trying to untangle her hair, said, ‘When are you getting your doll married? Invite me, so I can eat some sweets!’

Maina’s happiness knew no bounds. She decided that from then on, whenever Mohan would ask for water, she would rub the tumbler with a lot of ash and clean it thoroughly.

‘Amma refuses to give me any money. I have decided on a groom-doll but how do I send the proposal?’

Mohan inquired, ‘How much will you need?’

‘One paisa for the sweets and another for the colour. That should be enough to dye the couple’s dress!’

‘So two paise will be enough for you?’

‘Then give me two paise, bhaiya. I will organize a grand wedding for my doll.’

Mohan took out the money in his hand and showed it to Maina. She lunged for it but Mohan raised his hand playfully. Maina caught hold of his hand and tried to pull it down. This was too much for Mohan to stand, who now picked up his sister in his arms. Maina took the money and danced around in joy. Then she ran out to invite her friends for the doll’s wedding.

Just then Buti showed up with a pile of cow dung. Seeing Mohan idling around, she said sternly, ‘You are still having fun. When will you milk the buffalo?’

Today, Mohan did not respond to her rebelliously, as if a spring of sweetness had sprung up in his heart. Seeing the mother burdened by the pile of cow dung, he took it off her head.

Buti said, ‘Let it be, let it be. Go milk the buffalo. I will take away the cow dung.’

But Mohan said, ‘Why should you carry so much weight? Why don’t you call me for these chores?’

This made the mother’s heart jump with affection and tenderness.

She chided him, ‘You go and tend to your own work. Why are you always after me?’

‘Picking up the cow dung is my job, not yours.’

‘And who will do the milking?’

‘I will do that too.’

‘Are you such a strong man to take on all the work?’

‘I will do whatever I take on.’

‘Then what will I do?’

‘You make your sons work. That is your only duty.’

‘Like anyone listens to me!’

2

Today, on his way back home from the market after delivering milk, Mohan bought some betel leaf, betel nuts, some catechu, a small case for the betel leaves and some sweetmeats. Buti scolded him, ‘Did you find money just lying around somewhere? How long can we make do if you waste money like this?’

‘I didn’t waste any money, Amma. Only that earlier I thought that you didn’t chew betel leaf.’

‘So now I will chew betel leaves?’

Mohan said endearingly, ‘Sure. Why not? One who has two grown-up sons, can she not indulge even in this much of a hobby?’

Some greenery sprouted somewhere in the dry hard landscape that Buti’s heart had become. It was just a tender sapling but it contained within itself a sea of life-giving nourishment. She gave a sweetmeat each to Maina and Sohan, and proceeded to give another to Mohan.

He tried declining the sweet, saying, ‘The sweets were meant for the children, Amma.’

But she objected, ‘And you think you have grown old, right?’

‘Compared to these children, I am surely old.’

‘But you are still a child for me.’

Mohan now accepted the sweet. Maina had instantly gobbled up her share. That piece had barely sweetened her tongue before going down the throat. She was now greedily eyeing Mohan’s share. He broke the laddu into two and gave one half to her. Between Mohan and his mother, there was still one more left. Buti offered it to Sohan, saying, ‘You got so little of the sweetmeats. Now take this.’

Mohan ate half the laddu and said, ‘This is your share, Amma.’

She replied, ‘The pleasure I get when I see you eat is sweeter than the sweetness of this sweetmeat.’

She gave away half the sweet to Mohan and half to Sohan. She then opened the betel leaf case. She was experiencing this good fortune for the first time in her life. What great fortune to have something when the son was the man of the house, when it could not be had when her husband ruled it! There were several compartments in the case, along with two small spoons, with a handle on the cover to carry it around anywhere. The plate on the upside will be used to keep the betel leaves. The moment Mohan left the house, she washed and cleaned the case thoroughly and then filled it up with ingredients like lime, catechu, betel nuts and leaves. Then she prepared one betel leaf with all the required ingredients for herself. The juices from the leaf flowing into her throat washed away the bitterness of widowhood. Just as a jolly heart shows itself through compassionate behaviour, she could not restrain herself from going out. Her heart was not deep enough to hide a great pleasure like this. In an old mirror, she looked at herself. She noticed her lips were not red, but then reminded herself that she was not chewing the betel leaf to gloss her lips.

Dhaniya, a neighbour, came in to ask for a rope., ‘Kaki, just lend me the rope. Mine has snapped.’

Had it been just yesterday, Buti would have refused, saying her rope was not meant for use by the entire village and Dhaniya should have her broken rope mended. Today, she happily and smilingly gave away the rope to Dhaniya and asked endearingly, ‘Have your son’s loose motions stopped or not, Dhaniya?’

Dhaniya replied with a heavy heart, ‘No, Kaki, the motions have been loose the entire day. He is probably teething.’

‘Be done with water drawing and then I will go along to see if he is teething or is it some other problem. Has someone cast an evil eye on him?’

Dhaniya expressed helplessness. ‘How can I tell, Kaki? Who knows who has the cursed eye!’

‘Restless and playful boys are always at such risk.’

‘He goes to whoever calls him lovingly, and then how he laughs!’

‘Sometimes even the mother’s eye is not good for the child.’

‘What are you saying, Kaki, why will anyone cast an evil eye on her own son?’

‘You don’t understand this. Sometimes, the eye is cast on its own.’

After Dhaniya had drawn water from the well, Buti went along with her to see the baby.

‘You are alone! You must be terribly troubled by all the chores?’

‘No, Kaki. Rupiya comes over and does some chores. I would have died doing all of it all by myself.’

Buti was surprised. She had only thought of Rupiya as a flippant girl.

‘Rupiya!’

‘Haan, Kaki. She is a very simple girl. She sweeps the house, cooks and washes, and even looks after the baby. Otherwise, Kaki, who asks after anybody during strained times?’

‘But does she find any time. what with all her decking up?’

Dhaniya tried to explain, ‘That is an individual’s interest, Kaki. Not even any devotee of God gave me as much help as this decked-up girl has helped me. She stayed up all night. Not that I rewarded her with anything. But, yes, I will sing her praises as long as I live.’

Buti was not convinced. ‘You don’t know her, Dhaniya. Where do you think the money for the betel leaves comes from? How does she have saris with bright borders?’

Dhaniya was not having any of it. She said, ‘That is not for me to get into, Kaki. And who doesn’t like to wear good clothes and do some make-up? This is the age for her to enjoy these things.’

Thus talking, they reached Dhaniya’s house. In the courtyard, Rupiya was tending to the baby, patting him gently. The baby had fallen asleep.

Dhaniya laid down the baby on the bed. Buti touched the baby’s forehead, and then gently pressed his belly with her finger. She instructed Dhaniya to apply a paste of asafoetida on the navel. Rupiya took up the fan and started fanning the child.

Buti said, ‘Come, give the fan to me.’

‘It will not hurt me to fan the baby.’

‘You work here and do the chores all day. You must be tired.’

Rupiya now praised her, saying, ‘You are such a nice person, the opposite of what people say—that you can only talk in abuses. I was so scared, I never came to see you.’

Buti smiled and said, ‘They are not lying.’

But Rupiya refused to believe her. ‘Should I believe in what people say or what I have seen with my own eyes?’

Today as well, Rupiya had kohl in her eyes, had chewed a betel leaf, and was wearing a colourful sari. Today, Buti realized that this bloom was not just colourful but was fragrant too. The hatred that she had borne in her heart for Rupiya was now washed away as if by a divine pronouncement. She was thinking, ‘What a gentle girl she is, how modest! How sweetly she speaks! Girls these days do not care for their own children, let alone tending to others’ children, and here she stayed awake the entire night caring for Dhaniya’s son! Mohan must have surely told her about the altercation. Had it been any other girl, she would have turned away from me, taunted me or thrown a tantrum! And this girl acts as if she knows nothing. It is also possible Mohan might not have told her anything. Yes, that’s how it is.’

Today, Buti found Rupiya very beautiful. There was nothing wrong in her wanting to be beautiful. If not at this age, then when? Decking and make-up generally felt bad because such people were only busy in indulging themselves, and would not bother to help even if somebody’s house was on fire. Their only job was to seduce others, as if they had set up a beauty shop, and call out to passers-by to inspect their wares. But such ornamentation was not objectionable in charitable people like Rupiya. In fact, it suited them. It showed that they were as beautiful inside as they were on the outside, and anyway, who does not want to be praised for their beauty? Who does not have the desire to appear handsome to others’ eyes? Even Buti, who was long past her prime, nursed this desire. How her heart beamed with joy when somebody looked at her even with a remotely amorous eye! She then found it difficult to keep herself grounded. Compared to all this, Rupa’s youth qualified her for all this.

That day onwards, Rupa started visiting Buti’s house at least once or twice every day. Buti requested Mohan and got her a nice sari. Now if Rupa ever showed up without kohl in her eyes or wearing a plain sari, Buti admonished her, saying, ‘This plain nun-like attire is not fit for young women. It is meant for old hags like me.’

One day, Rupa replied, ‘How are you old, Amma? Only a mere gesture from you will have men flocking to you like bumblebees. My father is capable of planting himself at your door. He won’t even budge.’

With mock opprobrium, Buti said, ‘Right! As if I can be a co-wife to your mother.’

‘My mother is anyway old now.’

‘And you think your father is young!’

‘Of course, he is made of sterner stuff.’

Buti looked at her with beseeching eyes and said, ‘Okay, tell me, should I get you married to Mohan?’

Rupa blushed, her face glowing red like a rose.

Later, when Mohan returned home after selling milk, Buti told him, ‘Save some money. I am thinking about you and Rupa.’

Translated from the Hindi by Vikas Jain