Written in Tears Read online

  Suddenly there was commotion as ten to twelve army personnel entered the compound. They had already rampaged through the house. One of them now took hold of Rupam’s arms. Another snatched his suitcase and broke it open; two sets of clothes, packets of pitha and pickles, a few branches of a flower tree spilled out to the ground. They questioned the members of the family about the son who had left the house and then dragged Rupam away. His brother, her husband, did not eat anything and, putting on a shirt, went out. Again, that routine would follow, he knew. Police, court, etcetera. No, Rupam could not be kept in the house any more. He was in the third year now. It was planned that after graduation he would go to the university. He was good in studies, majoring in history. The exam marks were good too. The family had given up on the second son, now their hopes lay with this younger son. He was quite mature too. He managed to finance his own studies, giving private tuition to students or sometimes through some small business ventures. He had invested in the fishlings thinking about the tuition fees in the university. He already had a coop with thirty chickens. It not only supplied the eggs required for the household, but he sold the extra ones in the market. He also looked after the betel leaf creepers, the betel nut trees and the cows and goats in the shed. For sometime now, he had been talking about bringing a few ducks too. Thinking of his hardworking brother, his elder brother’s heart felt like it were filled with the white bellies of dead fish. He had been harassed by the police and the military since his elder brother left home. He walked faster. Something had to be done. Who knew what they were going to do to Rupam? Everybody seemed to be on edge.

  The surroundings around the house seemed to be full of dead fish too. On both sides of the house, the ‘dacoit’ families were employing labourers to clean up the place. They exchanged words in between the work, but the jibes were aimed at them—as if they were the ones who had deliberately done it though they themselves seemed to be half-dead. They had to bury the dead fish, had to feed the cows and chickens, they had to organize some food. But they just stood around, unable to push themselves to do these tasks.

  Arunima’s mother-in-law quietly tried to milk the cows. The calf had suckled through the night. Still she could extract some milk. She heated it, washed some flat rice, mixed it with the milk and brought it to Arunima telling her, ‘My dear, don’t forget the baby in your womb.’ Slowly the people in the house started getting busy with the pending chores.

  In the afternoon, her husband returned with Rupam. He had signed a bond promising that as soon as the rebel son visited home, he would inform them and, on that condition, Rupam was allowed to go home. Everybody insisted that Rupam go and stay with his maternal uncle; he could study there and if necessary, also appear for the exam. But Rupam refused. How could he leave everything to his elder brother who worked in the bank and old father, he argued. If he decided on something, nobody could force him to abandon it.

  In a short time, the twenty-one year old young man became like a guardian of the house. He even petitioned and obtained compensation for the households which had been affected by the fire and also brought fresh fishlings for the pond. With broken pieces of brick, he segregated sections in the garden for Baby to plant different varieties of flower. One day Rupam went to the big town to collect flower plants and seeds. When he brought a plant with flowers like balls of fire, Baby jumped with joy. He also told her he had placed an order for fift y cuttings of dahlia. Baby was already imagining how people would stop by and admire her dahlia flowers in full bloom, the petals in different sizes, different colours. With care, each could become as big as lotuses. Hearing the descriptions, Baby’s eyes widened with anticipation. Soon, the people in the family also became enamoured of dreams again, dreams like the many-hued dahlias. The courtyard was filled with stones and sand and a toilet was built next to Arunima’s room.

  Her body was now quite heavy. Even on the now hardened courtyard, she walked very carefully.

  One day Rupam called a few men to collect honey from the ripened comb hanging from the ou branch. On the full moon night, when a fire was lit under the ou tree to smoke out the bees, Arunima along with Omi and Baby created a hue and cry, worrying that the bees would leave forever. Rupam scolded them: ‘What a fuss you are making! Once the bees make a comb they don’t abandon it so easily. They build it with so much effort; it’s not easy to go away.’

  Arunima looked at Rupam. In a short time, he seemed to have grown up to be a man of the world. The honey filled up a big bucket. He told his sister-in-law affectionately, ‘Won’t we need honey soon? Where will we get pure honey then? I have seen my younger uncle looking everywhere for good honey for the child.’

  That night she could not sleep well. She dreamt of honey bees in fitful sleep. She dreamt that they flew away from the honeycomb again and again; once she tried to hold them with the end of her chador. Or she saw a bare branch of the tree trembling in the wind, or the base of the tree filled with dead bees. She cried as she was about to stamp on them; the bees flew away and she tried to run after them. Unable to catch up, she shouted Ru—pa—m! She moaned, waking up the entire household. With round eyes bulging with fear, she held onto her younger brother-in-law’s wrists and, as if in a trance, started uttering, ‘Rupam, the honeycomb full of honey! The dead bees!’

  Her mother-in-law made a glass of Glucose and, giving it to her, uttered in distress, ‘Why on a Saturday, that too on a full moon night, did she have to stand out there under the ou tree?’

  She scolded her younger son, ‘See the consequence of your hankering for the honey. I am sure a bad spirit has taken over her. Before you were born, I also had a similar experience walking under this ou tree while going to the toilet.’

  She called out to the older son, ‘Go to the bej; he will sanctify some water for her to drink.’

  She leaned her heavy body on Rupam and said, as if unaware of the surroundings, ‘So many dead bees! Is the comb still there? The honeycomb …?’

  Omi wiped her face with a wet gamocha. Her husband hurriedly put on a trouser and shirt and said, ‘Let me get the doctor; she hasn’t slept a wink through the night.’

  Rupam told Omi, ‘Omi-ba! Please open the windows towards the kitchen garden!’

  Omi opened all the windows. Outside, the sky was getting lighter; a pink cloud hung in the ashen sky.

  ‘Look, Bou! There, the honeycomb is still there. Look carefully. See?’

  Rupam helped her drink the glucose water.

  Slowly she sat up. Rupam urged her again, ‘Please look, Bou! The bees are again busy collecting honey for the comb.’

  She looked through the window opening out into the kitchen garden. Yes, the comb was shining in the morning light; only this time it was not long in shape but round.

  In the morning, all of them were enjoying freshly fried luchis with honey. Omi was planning to knit a white sweater for her betrothed, and now was taking help of Arunima to wind the skeins of wool into balls. As she tried to put the required stitches on the knitting needles, she exclaimed without thinking, ‘Oh! So many stitches! What a wide back!’ Instantly shyness took over the quiet woman. Arunima whispered in her ears, ‘You’re getting a handsome husband; you have to take this much trouble.’ Omi’s face reddened. The white wool seemed to take on the colour of her pink cheeks.

  Baby asked her elder brother, ‘Dada, are you going out?’

  ‘What does our young princess want now? I have already brought the flowering plants,’ Rupam made a face at her.

  ‘Oh, keep quiet now,’ Baby stopped him and addressed Abinash, ‘Dada! Yesterday I trimmed the rose plants; can you please bring some manure? The other flowers will bloom beautifully, and now if the roses don’t do well I’ll feel so bad.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll do it. What’s the name of the manure?’

  ‘Rose mix, Dada,’ Baby said promptly.

  ‘Our lady will write the names of flowers in her exam papers on physics and chemistry, I’m sure,’ Rupam teased her, taking a luchi fr
om her plate.

  ‘Oh, you don’t know, this time in the First Year exam, I was the only one to get an A. The principal had sent for me and said if I tried, I could even get a position.’

  ‘Okay, okay. You study well. I’ll see to it that you can go for a medical degree,’ Rupam ran his fingers on Baby’s curly hair.

  ‘Will we be lucky enough to be treated by home-grown doctor?’ her father-in-law wondered aloud as he came to join the breakfast table coming out from the puja room.

  ‘Why not, Deuta! Of course, it will happen!’ Arunima said as she placed the plate of luchi in front of him and went to the kitchen to make tea for him. These days he took tea without sugar.

  After milking the cow, her mother-in-law handed the milk to her, saying, ‘Boari! Please heat the milk.’

  Omi kept aside the wool and knitting needles and came over. She asked her mother, ‘Ma, why are you telling Bou to heat the milk? What if it boils over? She may get burnt, we should be careful.’

  She saw that after a long time, her husband was smiling the way he used to, his eyes half-closed as the face tilted upwards.

  ‘What’s there to laugh? I have been asking you all to bring a milk-cooker for a long time,’ Arunima said irritably.

  ‘Well, I’ve been looking for your milk-cooker all over but haven’t been successful. Actually, consumers like you are rare these days; the company can’t make profits and so they have stopped manufacturing it altogether,’ he teased.

  ‘Oh, don’t you have anything else to say?’ she was getting slightly angry; her nose was covered in a film of perspiration.

  ‘Bou! You can show me the old one. I’ll try to see if it can be repaired. Only the whistle is malfunctioning,’ Rupam said. He asked Baby to make another cup of tea.

  Suddenly the calling bell rang. Tommy started barking. He was of an ordinary breed and had been in the house for long time. Now he was getting old, his eyes were bad and he walked around on guess-work. These days he was not interested in barking either. After eating rice, he just lay down on the veranda outside. Even if cows or goats made a feast of flowers in the garden outside, he did not bother. Baby scolded him constantly. But now his barking disturbed the calmness of the morning. They jumped up. Rupam ordered Baby rather roughly, ‘Go inside the house!’

  Her husband looked at Rupam and told him, ‘You stay inside as well,’ and went out to check. An army officer stood there. But he did not come inside, just waited on the veranda. The handsome officer shook his hand. The genteel, senior officer was looking for his father.

  Nobody was interested in going to the kitchen to cook lunch now. All other work came to a standstill. They all sat in the drawing room. The next day there was going to be a function to mark surrender by some militants. Senior army officers, the chief minister himself, a central minister, media persons from television, radio and newspapers would be present at the solemn occasion. Arunima’s father-in-law was invited to attend the function.

  ‘But why me?’ the old man’s mouth fell open in surprise.

  ‘Why not? You are the father of a famous terrorist!’

  Her mother-in-law started feeling unwell; when her head reeled like this, a mixture of oil and water had to be put on her head. As she went to do that, she asked croaking, ‘He too …?’ Arunima saw that her eyes were moist. She held her hand and led her to the bedroom. As she put the oil and water on her head, she heard the neighbour’s wife, who was pretending to wash clothes at the water tap outside but actually speaking loudly for their benefit, ‘Don’t know why these people don’t go away from here … for them we also suffer … police, military come and go all the time.’ She was beating a towel forcefully on the floor of the newly-built red enclosure meant for washing clothes in the backyard. Arunima shut the window. After putting her mother-in-law in the bed to rest, she stepped into the veranda to go to the drawing room. Seeing her, the dacoit’s wife came out.

  ‘What’s happened? Have they arrested Rupam?’ she was smiling.

  ‘No, it’s about something else,’ she replied.

  ‘Something else? What happened, has the other one died?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ her face reddened as she retorted.

  The woman seemed to sympathize with her. ‘Ah!’ she said, ‘Seeing your face makes me sad. What bad luck that you have to live with this family of criminals!’ Anger and insult made Arunima’s eyes fill with tears. ‘Oh, Oh! Why are you crying? What can you do, it’s in your fate after all,’ the woman said. Now she came nearer and confided, ‘You know, yesterday they sent a demand notice for money. Some jealous person must have informed them; you know how much my husband toiled to build this house.’ Her voice was a whisper now as she said, ‘Can’t you tell them to reduce the amount? It depends on you people …’

  Arunima jumped away from her, as if she had seen a venomous snake. This woman, who on other days shut the door of the house when she saw policemen or army men entering their house and went on hurling unspeakable abuses from inside the house, was greatly sympathetic to her today; now she understood why.

  The woman smiled meaningfully and asked, ‘Have you built a new bathroom yet? Have you used tiles or marble in the latrine? My husband has spent seventeen thousand rupees on the commodes alone. When do you plan to build a bathroom? You people, however, don’t have to build a house like us.’

  Streams of tears washed Arunima’s cheeks. The woman went away.

  In the meantime, it was decided that Arunima’s father-in-law would attend the event to welcome the surrender. How could one fight with the crocodile when you lived in the water?

  One day Baby told the family that on her way back from maths tuition, the man who called her Shalini offered to give her a lift home. Stunned with fear, the people in the house realized that the girl who was mad about flowers was herself turning into a beauty, a dahlia of many colours. Rupam now had another duty added; he could not allow her to go alone anywhere. He also decided that when he would join the university in Guwahati, he would take Baby along, too, and admit her in a college there. His father meanwhile went to visit the prospective groom’s house and fixed Omi’s wedding date in January. The groom was building two additional rooms for the house, so they had to wait these few months.

  Forget about the sudden pause in Baby’s tuition class, the whole town now seemed to stop in its track. Militants blew up a minister and his car on the main road by a remote controlled bomb. News in dailies and on TV named the perpetrators who took responsibility for the blasts. The second son of the house was also among them. He had taken a new name; these days it came up often in the media reports.

  Even before the crater made by the bomb on the road was filled up, people in the town got another shock. Three of the surrendered militants who had now started living in Guwahati were shot dead while on their way home here.

  It was as if the crater created by the bomb in the trunk road had entered their house, making it sink. The whole family seemed to be thrown into that huge hole; they were submerged amidst the dead bodies and blood. Those three bodies in the isolated field, their blood dried over their corpses, it seemed as if someone had dragged them and placed in their room. The flesh was rotting, the odour made their stomachs churn. They could not breathe, they could not eat, they could not sleep.

  In the morning, Arunima’s father-in-law took Baby and Omi along with him to his brother’s place in Tezpur. He wanted the girls to stay out of the town for the time being. But he returned by the afternoon bus with them. His brother said he was having his walls painted; it would be inconvenient to accommodate guests in the house.

  The tuition teacher told Baby that she did not have to come any more, he was planning to keep the class suspended for sometime. The officer Saikia put up a huge wall between their compounds. A few days later, they celebrated their little baby’s annaprasan, the first rice-eating ceremony, with lots of invitees. From this end, they could hear the noise of laughter and giggles of guests congregating for the feast, but they were not
invited. Even the dacoit put up a bamboo fence on the border of the compound to shut them off. These days you could not hear clothes being washed noisily or abuses being hurled from that side. An ominous quietude hung over the place.

  One night, the blood pressure of Arunima’s father-in-law shot up and his face pulled down on one side. Not a single doctor agreed to come to their house to examine him. In the morning, somehow they managed to take him to the civil hospital. By God’s grace, this time, at least, he could return home without any permanent damage. But no one from the neighbourhood visited the house to enquire after his health.

  Winter was almost at the doorstep. There were so many things waiting to be done. The kitchen garden needed ploughing to loosen the soil, the bamboo scaffolding for the gourd needed repairing. If the gourd seeds were not planted now they would not grow in time. They had to make the fence for the urohi beans too. And Baby’s flower garden? The garden divided into sections with bricks painted with lime. The fifty dahlia cuttings where flowers bloomed in seven colours, getting as big as lotuses—who was going to plant them?

  Rupam noticed that of late he came across some unknown faces on the road. He smelt a conspiracy. Somebody was following him as if to catch him in a net, he felt. A few nights ago, when he was returning home, a Maruti van stopped near the big tank and a few men with black handkerchiefs tied over their faces got down and blocked his path. Luckily two trucks came that way lighting up the road with their headlights, so they left quickly in the van.