Prayishchit

by Bhagwaticharan Verma

Translated by Sakshi Agarwal

If there was anyone in the whole house that Kabri the cat loved, it was Ramu’s wife. And if there was anyone in the whole house that Ramu’s wife hated, it was Kabri the cat. Ramu’s wife, after spending two months at her parents’, had come home to her in-laws’ for the first time. Her dear husband’s infatuation and her mother-in-law’s figure of adulation, a girl of fourteen. The key to the storeroom now hung by the jewelled chain around her waist, the servants began working under her rule, and Ramu’s wife oversaw everything. The mother-in-law took a string of beads and devoted herself to prayer and the scriptures.

But she was only a girl of fourteen after all. If one moment, the storeroom was alive with movement, the next, she had dozed off sitting in it. Kabri the cat seized the opportunity and began devouring the milk. Ramu’s wife’s life was in danger while Kabri the cat bared her claws in amusement. Ramu’s wife was moving ghee into the great vessel when she nodded off, and the rest of the ghee went into Kabri the cat’s belly. Ramu’s wife covered the milk and just went off to give some to the cook, and the rest disappeared. If the situation had escalated until this point, it would have been harmless, but Ramu’s wife became so unreservedly known to Kabri, that the mere act of eating became nearly impossible. A bowl brimming with rabri arrived in Ramu’s wife’s room, and by the time Ramu made an appearance, the bowl had been licked clean. Balai arrived from the market, and by the time Ramu’s wife prepared a paan, it vanished.

Ramu’s wife made up her mind. Either she would stay in the house or Kabri the cat. Both sides prepared for war and remained on alert. A trap for the cat was brought. Milk, cream, rats, and many different kinds of foods relished by the cat were put in. She didn’t even spare them a look. But the cat did show a stirring too. Until now, she had been terrified of Ramu’s wife, but now, she began playing the game. She still maintained a distance between the two of them, enough that Ramu’s wife could never touch her.

With the cat in high spirits, Ramu’s wife’s life became even more prickly. She was gifted her mother-in-law’s reproaches, and the husband received tasteless meals.

One day, Ramu’s wife made kheer for Ramu. Pistachios, almonds, makhanas, and all sorts of dry fruits were decorated with gold flakes and mixed in the milk. And finally, a bowl filled to the brim with kheer was placed on a high shelf in the room, so the cat couldn’t possibly reach it. Ramu’s wife busied herself in the preparation of paan soon after.

Unknown to Ramu’s wife, the cat emerged. Standing below the shelf, she looked up at the bowl, breathed in the aroma, judged the fare to be delectable, and estimated the height of the shelf. Ramu’s wife, engrossed in her errand, was oblivious to it all. She finished her task and went off to give her mother-in-law the paan, and here, Kabri the cat leapt. Her paw hit the bowl and it fell on the floor with a clang.

When the sound reached Ramu’s wife’s ears, she tossed the paan before her mother-in-law and ran, only to appear and find the flowery bowl in pieces, the kheer spilt, and the cat flinging the kheer everywhere in the room. Upon seeing Ramu’s wife, Kabri dashed off.

Ramu’s wife’s vision turned red.

Ramu’s wife resolved to commit murder. She didn’t sleep a wink the entire night. What strategy should she implement in her war against the cat so the creature doesn’t come out of it alive? She lay there, pondering. When morning arrived, she saw Kabri sitting on the sill, gazing at her adoringly.

An idea meandered its way into Ramu’s wife’s mind, and she sat up smiling. As soon as Kabri saw her rise, she scurried off. Ramu’s wife put a bowl of milk in her room’s doorway and left. When she returned with a piece of wood, she discovered Kabri lapping up the milk. The cat had taken the bait and the time was right, she drew upon all her might and bashed the cat with the wood. Kabri didn’t move, not an inch, she didn’t cry, not a sound, she just flipped and fell on her back.

The clash caused the maid who left her broom, the cook who stepped out of the kitchen and the mother-in-law who interrupted her prayers to materialize at the site of the fatality. Ramu’s wife stood there, her head bowed down like a criminal, listening as they began to talk.

The maid said, ‘Arey Ram! The cat has breathed her last, Maaji. The cat has died because of the daughter-in-law, this is just tragic.’

The cook spoke, ‘Maaji, the death of a cat is equal to that of a person. I won’t work in the kitchen till this aura of guilt shrouds the daughter-in-law.’

The mother-in-law concurred, ‘Yes, you’re absolutely right. Until the daughter-in-law is liberated from her guilt, nobody can drink a drop of water or eat a morsel of food. Daughter-in-law, what have you done?’

The maid remarked, ‘Now what has to be done? If you agree to it, I shall go fetch the priest.’

The mother-in-law felt her strength return, ‘Yes, of course, run and call the priest.’

The news of the death spread like wildfire in the neighbourhood—there was a string of women constantly moving in and out of Ramu’s house. They launched a barrage of questions, in the midst of which crouched the daughter-in-law.

When the message reached the priest, he was at prayer. The moment he heard, Pandit Paramsukh rose to his feet. Smiling at the priestess, he spoke, ‘Don’t cook today’s meals. Lala Ghasiram’s daughter-in-law took a cat’s life. There shall be an atonement. We will be served a feast.’

Pandit Paramsukh Chaubey was a short and round man, four feet and ten inches long and fifty-eight inches around the waist. The face was rounded and chubby, with a giant moustache, of a light complexion, and his hair was tied in a traditional shikha that hung down his back.

It is said that when one seeks priests who have the appetite of five people, Pandit Paramsukh is given the primary position in that list of names.

Pandit Paramsukh arrived and the quorum was achieved. The Panchayat sat down: the mother-in-law, the maid, Kisnu’s mother, Chhannu’s grandma and Pandit Paramsukh. The rest of the women were manufacturing sympathy for the daughter-in-law.

Kisnu’s mother commenced, ‘Panditji, which circle of hell does the crime of killing a cat merit?’

Pandit Paramsukh glanced at his book, ‘The circle of hell cannot be foretold merely from this information, we need the period of time when the cat was killed. Only then can we know which hell.’

‘At about seven in the morning,’ the maid of the house spoke.

The priest flipped through the pages, traced certain lines with his finger, touched his forehead and ruminated over it. His face became engulfed in a haze of confusion, he frowned in effort, his nose crinkled and his tone became grave, ‘Hare Krishna! Hare Krishna! This is very unfortunate, the cat was killed in the early hours of the morning, in Brahma Muhurat! Ramu’s wife’s place is in the fifth circle of hell, in the torturous Kumbhipak! Ramu’s mother, this is indeed very unfortunate.’

Ramu’s mother teared up, ‘So then Panditji, now what do we do? Only you can tell us!’

Pandit Paramsukh smiled, ‘Ramu’s mother, why are you worrying so much? When will priests like us come to your aid if not on days like these? There is a ritual for atonement in the scriptures, and so atonement will set everything right.’

Ramu’s mother exclaimed, ‘Panditji, this is the very reason we sent out for you. Do lead us on to what we must do now!’

‘What has to be done? Just this, a cat of gold must be sculpted and then gifted by the daughter-in-law. Until the cat is given away, the house shall remain impure. After the cat is given away, we must begin a prayer of twenty-one days.’

Chhanu’s grandma spoke, ‘Of course, Panditji is absolutely right, we must give away the cat first and then start the prayers after.’

Ramu’s mother enquired, ‘Tell us, Panditji, the sculpture should weigh how many tolas?’

Pandit Paramsukh smiled. Stroking his paunch, he replied, ‘How many tolas must the cat weigh? Arey Ramu’s mother, the scriptures dictate that the weight of the gold for the cat sculpture must be as much as the cat; but we are living in the perilous times of Kaliyug, religion and ritual have been degraded, reverence has been lost. So then, Ramu’s mother, even if we make a cat weighing the cat, what will it weigh? Not more than twenty tolas or so. Well, so be it, make sure the cat weighs about twenty-one tolas and give it away. The rest is up to your faith!’

Ramu’s mother looked at the priest with wide eyes, ‘Oh god, twenty-one tolas of gold! Panditji, that is a lot of gold, can’t we make do with a cat weighing about a tola?’

A chuckle escaped Pandit Paramsukh, ‘Ramu’s mother, a cat of a mere one tola! Is your attachment to your money overtaking your affection for your daughter-in-law? She has committed a grave wrong, it is not befitting that you choose such material attachments over her atonement.’

Negotiations began and both sides finally arrived at a compromise of eleven tolas.

And then came the matter of prayers. Pandit Paramsukh proclaimed, ‘What is the difficulty there? What are we priests for? Ramu’s mother, I shall recite the scriptures, all you have to do is send the paraphernalia to my home.’

‘How much will it all cost?’

‘Oh, we shall perform the prayers with the minimal amount of provisions. All we need for donations, ten maunds of wheat, one maund of rice, one maund of dal, one-whole maund of til, five maunds of jau and five maunds of channa, twenty seers ghee and one-whole maund of salt. That’s all, and the matter will be resolved.’

‘Oh god, so many things! Panditji, we’ll have to spend a hundred or maybe a hundred and fifty rupees buying all this,’ Ramu’s mother sobbed.

‘But this is the least we’ll have to do. Killing a cat is such a serious crime, Ramu’s mother! Stop looking at the costs, first look at your daughter’s misdeed. It is a matter of atonement, it is not play—and more so, it is your own reputation! Every family has to atone for their wrongdoings. You are not some ordinary family. A hundred and fifty rupees or so is just the dirt of your hands.’

Pandit Paramsukh’s words impacted the gathered five. Kisnu’s mother spoke, ‘Panditji is absolutely right in what he said, it’s not as if taking a cat’s life is some lowly misdeed. If you have committed a grave wrong, you must pay a high cost.’

Chhanu’s grandmother affirmed, ‘Of course, what else? It is only through gifts that we can right our misdeeds. There should be no frugality in such matters.’

The cook recited, ‘And then, Maaji, you’re big people. How will these costs even affect you in any way?’

Ramu’s mother peered at the faces around her. All five were in agreement with the priest. Pandit Paramsukh was smiling from ear to ear, true to his name. He shot the final arrow, ‘Listen to me, Ramu’s mother! Your daughter is at the precipice of the fifth circle of hell, and it is your responsibility to save her. The cost is nothing. Don’t turn away from her.’

Ramu’s mother took a deep breath, ‘We will have to dance on your palm as you tell us to, what else can we do now?’

Pandit Paamsukh’s voice rose in anger, ‘Ramu’s mother! This is a matter of celebration! If you mind it even a bit, don’t do it. I’m leaving.’ The priest began collecting his things.

‘Oh no, Panditji, Ramu’s mother has no qualms. Understand her plight a little. Don’t lose your temper like this!’ the cook, Chhanu’s grandma and Kisnu’s mother sang in the same note.

Ramu’s mother touched the priest’s feet—and he sat down even more self-reassurance than before.

‘What else must we do?’

‘The twenty days prayer will be of twenty-one rupees and for twenty-one days, you must feed five Brahmins both times of the day,’ Pandit Paramsukh paused. ‘But don’t worry about this, I shall alone manage eating both the meals, and in feeding me, you shall receive God’s blessings for feeding five Brahmins.’

‘Panditji is right in saying this. After all, look at his paunch!’ the cook beamed, pulling the priest’s leg.

‘All right, make yourself busy with the preparations for the atonement. Ramu’s mother, go and bring me eleven tolas of gold, I will go and get it sculpted. I will return in two hours. Make sure you have everything ready for the prayers by then. And listen, for the prayers…’

The priest hadn’t been even completed his directions when the maid barged into the room, breathless. Everyone was taken by surprise. Ramu’s mother asked worried, ‘What is it, what happened?’

The maid spoke in a faltering voice, ‘Maaji, the cat, it ran away!’