Written in Tears Read online

  A few days later, Abinash called him and took him out on the pretext of a stroll. There he told Rupam about twice meeting men with faces covered with black clothes. Putting his arm around the shoulder of his brother seven years his junior, he broke down, crying, he said, ‘Rupam! I feel scared now.’ Rupam’s eyes widened in fear and he uttered, ‘Dada! I have also met them. One day …’ His voice choked. A Maruti van with tinted windows suddenly sped past them. Both of them left the road and returned home by the dirt road through the paddy fields. In their hearts, they carried a hole which the torn limbs of human bodies and blood filled in.

  That night after dinner, Omi and Baby were washing the utensils in the corner of the courtyard. In the banana grove, something moved. Baby threw a stone towards the sound. Suddenly they saw two men with guns, their faces covered with black clothes. Leaving everything behind, they ran inside the house. Once inside, they could not say anything and sat trembling like leaves. After a long time, Omi uttered, ‘Men with black clothes on their faces …’ Abinash brought the torch to check but Rupam caught him tightly from behind and almost screamed, ‘No, Dada, don’t go!’ He buried his face in his elder brother’s chest and cried.

  ‘Don’t cry, Rupam. People go through hard times,’ his elder brother tried to calm him.

  ‘I am not afraid of hard times, Dada! But this is something else,’ Rupam replied, sounding like a small child.

  ‘What have we done? What’s our fault, Dada?’ he rallied.

  Seeing Arunima coming in, he wiped his face. These days she slept quite heavily. She did not know what was going on. Her eyes were wide with fear as she said ‘Rupam! Some people were talking outside the window of my bedroom. They were whispering.’

  Her husband tried to allay her fears. ‘Oh, you are really something. You wake up and see bees flying away from the honeycomb!’

  Rupam seemed very agitated. He told his brother, ‘Dada! Please take Bou to her parents’ place tomorrow itself.’

  ‘Why, Rupam, I was supposed to go after one month!’ she was a surprised, and a little hurt too.

  ‘No, Bou. Please leave tomorrow itself.’ Hearing Rupam’s changed voice, she realized that something was amiss. When did so much fear gather in the boy who gave courage to everybody in the family?

  ‘Rupam is right. I’ll take you to your parents’ tomorrow. Over here you are depressed and not keeping well.’ Her husband’s voice seemed to be coming out of a well of tears.

  ‘I’ll go but not tomorrow. After a week perhaps. I have to organize the things, you know,’ she said. She tried to smile but failed. Then she said, ‘I’ll take along Omi and Baby too.’

  All this time, her father-in-law was sitting quietly. Now he said, ‘No Boari, you don’t have to take along my daughters.’

  ‘But why, Deuta?’ she cried out.

  ‘They too have been touched by the ominous shadow. My own brother, whose study I financed, arranged his marriage and settled him down, could not bear their presence. I have fallen into a deep canal, Boari.’

  Outside, Tommy was whining, making a peculiar sound. They went out to see what was wrong. The old dog was foaming at his mouth and circling round and round in agony.

  ‘He has been poisoned,’ her father-in-law said, trembling.

  ‘Don’t think it’s only Tommy, they are going to poison us too,’ Rupam said, his face going deathly pale.

  ‘Who will do that, Dada? Why poison us? What have we done?’ Baby asked, sounding helpless.

  ‘Baby, don’t ask who, why and for what reason,’ Rupam said.

  Abinash took hold of Rupam’s hand and led him to his room. ‘Come, sleep in my room today,’ he said.

  As soon as he lay down on the bed, Rupam jumped up, almost screaming ‘Listen, there they are!’

  Arunima, Rupam and Abinash heard the sound of heavy boots receding from near the wall of their house. The three of them stood frozen where they were.

  ‘No, I’ll take you to your parents’ tomorrow itself,’ Abinash said with a finality after a long pause.

  ‘Go, Bou. If you stay here …’ Rupam said, his voice cracking with fear.

  She was getting ready to go to her parents’ place for three to four months. Rupam and her mother-in-law would go with her. They would leave around 10 o’ clock in the morning. They had thought of hiring a car, but Rupam suggested that a public bus would be better. At least there would be other passengers around.

  In the morning, when she got up, she saw that Baby was already at work in the garden with a hoe, wearing an old skirt and tee shirt of her brother’s. This attire of hers was familiar to the family; they called it kamjari dress referring to workers in a tea garden. She was intently breaking down the mounds of earth separated by brick lines. Two of the beds were already flat like fish eggs.

  ‘Baby! What are you doing?’ Arunima approached the girl.

  ‘Bou! Should I allow my nephew to enter the house with a garden bare of flowers? By the time he comes, all the flowers will be in full bloom,’ Baby said as she looked at Arunima’s protruding belly.

  Hearing a sound from the gate, both of them jumped up. These days the household seemed to get worked up even at the rustle of a leaf. Omi’s future husband was entering the compound.

  Baby and Arunima led him to the drawing room.

  ‘Omi-ba!’ Baby called out happily. She had not told anyone, but she had seen her sister crying silently at night quite a few times. She knew for whom she was shedding those tears.

  Omi entered the room holding a cup of tea and snacks. Her sombre face was lit by a joy she could not suppress.

  ‘Our Omi was like a moonless night all these days, perhaps the noon will show up tonight,’ Arunima teased, hinting at his arrival; his name was Chandramohan Barua.

  But he did not take the cup of tea Omi had brought and said rather abruptly, ‘Bou, it seems the truth lies in a moonless night.’

  Stunned, Arunima and Omi looked at him. She saw that Omi’s eyes were welling up. By that time, the other members of the family also came into the drawing room.

  The father asked eagerly, ‘My dear! Have you finished building the rooms?’ He was anxious to see his daughter married.

  The man did not partake of anything offered with the tea. ‘We’ve stopped the work for the time being,’ he said.

  ‘But why?’ Arunima could not help asking.

  ‘So you are not going through with the wedding now?’ Rupam asked sternly.

  ‘I didn’t say that but let better days come,’ he said.

  Omi left the room.

  ‘Why don’t you say frankly that you don’t want to marry into our family?’ Rupam asked, his voice rising.

  Abinash asked him to keep quiet. He knew if Rupam continued he would lose his temper and become hysterical. For sometime now Rupam had become a volatile man.

  ‘You had sent the proposal yourself; we had in fact received quite a few proposals,’ Abinash tried to speak level-headedly but could not.

  ‘These things hadn’t happened then.’

  ‘Like?’ Baby asked without beating about the bush.

  Chandramohan kept his eyes down as he said, ‘One of your sons has become a terrorist.’

  ‘The country has laws to deal with that. We are not involved! My elder brother, my younger brother—none of them has become a terrorist, neither has my father or mother. So why are you treating us like this?’

  ‘Baby, keep quiet!’ the mother scolded her younger daughter.

  ‘Let me speak, Ma!’ Baby’s lips were trembling. ‘How can everybody in the house be the same? Your younger brother is a known drunkard; he’s often found in a canal. But did we say because of that we won’t allow my sister to go to your house as a bride?’

  Baby’s voice was getting sharper, more accusing: ‘Your elder sister’s husband has been under suspension for corruption. Does it mean that you too have been jailed? Or your job has gone?’

  The entire household stood as if turned into stone. Who knew that th
ere was a fire inside the girl who had been passionate only about flowers? Who had lit that fire?

  ‘You may not marry my sister, but you can’t treat us as culprits,’ Baby was ready to leave the room, her eyes blazing and tearful in indignation.

  ‘Baby hasn’t said anything wrong. Tell me Chandra-da, you are an educated man; tell me aren’t we living in a civilized society?’ Rupam intervened.

  ‘Of course, we are. Afghanistan hijacked an Indian plane, the whole world criticized,’ Chandramohan’s voice was dry as he added, ‘Yes, we are living in a civilized society.’

  ‘A son of this house has chosen his own path. This is his way. Time will judge whether he is right or wrong. But why do we have to live like this?’ Rupam asked as he gathered up his pajama. His leg had a bandage over a raw wound.

  ‘Look, Chandra-da. Somebody took a shot at me last night.’

  The people in the room started with shock.

  ‘I don’t know who shot me. Luckily it hit the leg. On the road some shadowy figures follow us, Baby and Omi see them while going to wash utensils in the backyard, my sister-in-law hears them whispering near the window of the bedroom. Someone may kill us at any moment. We don’t know who.’ Rupam covered his wound now.

  ‘Yes, Chandra, we are living in fear. You somehow organize a simple wedding and take her away,’ the elder brother sounded somehow like his father.

  Chandramohan got up to go and said, ‘Let times improve.’

  ‘Not the times, but it’s the mindset that has to improve,’ Omi’s sombre voice penetrated the room.

  Without saying anything, Chandramohan left the house.

  Arunima’s husband and mother-in-law were ready to go with her to the bus stand. Rupam had decided not to go at the last minute. Her mother-in-law and husband would stay the night at her parents’ place and return the next morning. She would stay for a few months. Baby kissed her cheeks and said, ‘Bou, you will see how many flowers I’ll plant. You’ll be surprised when you come back.’ Omi also came to stand near her. Looking at her smile, she felt her heart break. Omi said, ‘Bou! Keep your mind happy. We’ll visit you in between.’

  As she got into the cycle rickshaw she looked at the particular branch of the ou tree. The honeycomb was again getting elongated; it would be full of honey in a few days.

  When the rickshaw started, she asked it to stop and called out to Baby, ‘Listen! I’ll send a branch of parijat flower with Ma from my home. Plant it under the ou tree; I’ve heard that honey from parijat flower is very sweet.’

  ‘Okay, don’t worry, Bou!’ her sisters-in-law said together; their eyes were wet with tears, missing her already. Rupam’s face reddened with emotion. She looked back at the house full of plants and vines.

  A question churned inside her, questions Baby and Rupam asked: What had these people done? Whom had they harmed?

  The rickshaw gathered speed. Slowly the house disappeared from her sight. Only the aroma of many flowers stuck to her nose for quite a distance.

  She gave birth to a healthy boy. All those who came to see the baby as per custom, commented that he had taken after his father’s side.

  On the day the baby completed one month, all of the in-laws’ family came in the morning bus. They hovered around the baby. Baby and Omi had brought tiny dresses with hand embroidery. The grandparents presented a gold chain, Rupam brought a rattle. And her husband? He bought everything from the bazaar that he thought was right for the son. Some of them were redundant, of course, and she felt like smiling at his simplicity. She looked at the baby who was moving his hands and feet as babies do and thought, how many people were lucky enough to receive so much love?

  Her in-laws were ready to leave after tea.

  She came back to the room and asked Rupam, ‘Anything new happening there?‘

  ‘It’s been quiet for sometime now,’ Rupam said, but his voice betrayed suspicion.

  ‘Do you see them?’

  ‘For the last month or so, we haven’t seen them.’

  ‘The cars with tinted glass?’

  ‘Haven’t seen them either.’

  ‘Hope the trouble is over.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Bou. They must be planning something diabolic. Did you read yesterday’s newspaper?’

  ‘I did,’ she said, her voice almost a whisper.

  ‘After reading the news, my father shuts the doors and windows by early evening. That night two died, that day at midday five in the family …’ Rupam’s face was flushed.

  ‘When do you plan to fetch me from here?’ she asked, trying to change the subject.

  ‘You know, Bou, in that house the old woman was ninety years old and the child four years,’ Rupam continued. He got up to go and said, ‘Bou, you stay here for some more time.’

  The people were ready to leave. In the room she, the baby and her man, were alone. She went near him … two eager arms encircled her … a little warmth … she seemed to get a familiar aroma of dried marigold and basil leaves … a little dry paste of turmeric and black gram … ah, there was nothing else in the world beyond that, nothing.

  She took the baby in her arms and went out to the veranda to bid goodbye to her in-laws. She asked rather loudly, ‘When are you coming to fetch me?’

  The answer came from her elder brother, ‘My new car will be delivered in the first week of next month. You don’t have to come, I’ll bring her myself.’

  ‘Bring along sweets also to celebrate the new car,’ Baby said, laughing. After a long time, Arunima heard her laugh like this.

  They all stood watching until the people disappeared from view. Before going back to his room, her elder brother looked at her and said, ‘I wonder how a son of this cultured family could go astray.’

  ‘Like it happened with our elder brother,’ she said without hesitation. The members of the family looked at her aghast. In this house, uttering the eldest son’s name was taboo. He did not finish his studies, took to drinking as soon as he entered college, then married a girl from an ill-reputed family who could not adjust in his household. He had also a brood of children and they heard that he dealt with smuggled goods from Siliguri and stayed in a rented house on the fringe of the town. Yet, in this family, one was a doctor, one a lawyer, two educated daughters-in-law; of the three sons-in-law one was a professor, one an engineer and another a banker. So in their houses, the name of the drunkard eldest brother was never to be mentioned at all.

  She broke the silence herself, saying, ‘Whether he is right or wrong, my brother-in-law has gone away seeking something. But our eldest brother? Why has he gone astray? Wasn’t he brought up in a cultured family?’

  A few women entered through the gate. They were invitees to today’s ceremony. The people got busy quickly looking after them as if relieved.

  ‘Come, auntie!’

  ‘When will uncle come?’

  ‘Oh, look at Monty, how big he has become!’

  ‘What about Anju’s result?’

  As the guests kept coming, the uneasy air cleared.

  She stopped short at hearing the news. Again, some elusive killer put an end to four persons in a family. The villagers lit four pyres. All those unknown, mysterious killers seemed to play a prolonged game of tennis or badminton. If you have one point, I have three points; if you have three, I have five points. The newspapers, TV channels gave out news as a matter of fact, one of this side was killed today; the next day two from the other side, and so on. Arunima felt restless. What was happening in her in-laws’ house? How were they keeping?

  One day she packed her baby’s clothes and her own too. Her brother’s car had arrived almost a month back. She noticed that recently her sisters-in-law had also stopped insisting that she should stay a few more days. Her mother did not say anything either. She seemed to hear the strains of a biyanaam … ‘I rested in your house for some time.’ She was desperate to leave for the house with flowers. Her mother kept busy with her kirtan at the naamghar these days. The household was run by her
two sisters-in-law. Of late, if she wanted to have biscuits with tea in the morning and afternoon, she had to approach them for the keys to the meat-safe. But she gave a good amount to them from the money her husband left with her. When he came, he bought more than enough baby food. Most of it was finished off by the children of her sisters-inlaw; her own was too small to need much. Now her son was two months old. She sent word that she would reach home after three days. Her father-in-law told her that she should leave after four days as the day was auspicious according to the almanac.

  There were only four days in between. After that, this baby, who was among many in this house, would be honoured like a prince in that house. She told stories to her baby about that house:

  ‘There are two aunts waiting for you in that house. If you fly away—turned into a swan under the spell of a witch, your aunts will wait for you taking a vow of silence, and knit clothes with wild vines and make you human again.

  ‘You have an uncle. If a wicked wizard steals you and keeps you prisoner in a place on top of the mountains, your uncle will cross seven seas and thirteen rivers to free you.

  ‘You have a grandmother. If a witch turns you dumb by casting a spell, she will go round your bed for seven days and seven nights with a lighted earthen lamp in her palm without eating, without sleeping. She will bring back your voice though her palms will be burnt, her face will be blackened, but she will bring back your voice.

  ‘You know, you have a grandfather. If a demon infects you with a deadly virus, he will fly out of the land, bring the whole Gandhamadan hill as in Ramayana and cure you with its medicine.

  ‘And you know, you have a father. For his prince, he will do anything. If you want a bird singing from the branches of a silver and gold tree, or if you want the bird made of diamond shining in the sun, he will sail in his peacock-tailed boat to go beyond the seven seas looking for it. In your hands will dance the bird made of diamonds, its eyes made of pearls; its wings will shimmer with precious stones.

  ‘They will all hover around my prince; you will dance to the beat of ta-dhin-dhin-na, ta-dhin-dhin-na; your black hair will be adorned by a peacock feather. Your waist will have jewelled belt. The anklets will resound musically with your every step: rinjin … rinjin … you will be our little Krishna, our chubby Gopal. All will pray to you, you will be like an angel among all those flowers.’