She started to turn her handlebars to drive off, but not before Dilawar grabbed them, preventing her from going. “No! You have to love me!” he yelled angrily. Realizing he could easily overpower her, she backed off and tried reasoning with him. “Dilawar, no one can compel another to love. It can’t be done with force. When a girl is already in love with someone else, force will only draw hatred. I understand your feelings. I think you are a nice person, but please don’t cause problems for me. If you did something to break up Jaswant and me, it could make me hate you forever.” “If that’s the case, I’ll show you how to turn hate into love!” he said, his dark eyes flashing with fire. Moheeni met his gaze without backing off and said quietly but assuredly, “Look, you are young and handsome. You have property and wealth. You can have your choice of girls. Why destroy me? I told you I’m already in love. I’ll always respect you as a nice human being, but please leave me alone. I have my love, and his name is Jaswant.” She began to back away from him. Stunned that he had lost, he slowly released his grip on her handlebars and let her go. Depressed, he rode back into town to drown his sorrows in drink. Dilawar returned to the present. In front of him sat the hated Jaswant. Moheeni’s words haunted him, echoing in his mind and taunting him. “I have my love, and his name is Jaswant!” A crazed anger worked its way into his brain. He started mumbling to himself quietly, “I’ll destroy you, Jaswant. If I can’t have Moheeni, I won’t live. And if I can’t live, I won’t let you live either!” At the height of his pent-up frenzy, he rose from the table and hurled his glass over Jaswant’s head, where it smashed against the opposite wall. A silence fell over the room like a final curtain, all eyes staring blankly at Dilawar. Kishan set his drink on the table and looked at Dilawar, “What’s wrong with you, Dilawar?” 155
Fire and sparks flying from Dilawar’s aura, he pointed an accusing finger at Jaswant, “I will finish you, Jaswant! Who do you think you are? I am Dilawar! If I can’t cut you in two like a radish or a carrot, my name is not Dilawar!” and he pulled out his revolver from his side, drunkenly brandish- ing it about. Confused but never one to back away from a challenge, even if he didn’t understand the reasons for it, Jaswant stood up. “I don’t know what your problem is, Dilawar, but you’re going to find that cutting me in two is not as easy as cutting a radish or a carrot!” At this, Dilawar lunged across the table, scattering dishes and glasses everywhere, swinging his gun and flailing away at Jaswant. Jaswant jumped forward, swinging wildly too until the rest of the men could restrain them. Hearing the commotion, Rajinder hurried into the room. Seeing the fracas, she began shouting at the top of her voice to her husband, just adding to the chaos. “I told you not to have liquor at this gathering! I knew it would cause trouble, but you never listen to me! ” Jaswant came to Rajinder, out of breath from the fury of the fight. “Bhabi Ji, (used to address an older friend’s wife) feelings like that do not surface for no reason. It is a sign of something that goes much deeper. The drink only brings it to the surface. But honestly, I have no idea what brought on Dilawar’s anger.” Rajinder turned again on her husband, “Shamsher, if you knew there were bad feelings between Dilawar and Jaswant, why did you have them at the same table?” “I never knew there were bad feelings between the two!” Shamsher whined innocently. 156
Kishan turned to Dilawar, trying to make peace, “Dilawar, why get so excited in front of all these guests? What could be so important that it would be worth drawing your gun? Maybe it would be best for you to go outside for some fresh air. Come, I will walk with you.” Dilawar’s eyes flashed as the anger and destruction rose from the pit of his stomach, setting his head afire. He shouted at Kishan, “Go and take a walk, you fool! Someone is robbing your house day and night from under your very nose!” (Robbing one’s house is Punjabi slang for having one’s honor taken away in the form of a sister, wife, or daughter being taken advantage of sexually.) A gasp went through the room, and everyone’s faces grew pale. Kishan’s eyes grew red, and a terrible grimace tore over his face as if a volcano were erupting through his skin. Like a cat, he struck Dilawar down with his fist and hissed, “Dog! I would drown you with my urine!” The other men grabbed hold of Kishan as he made a move toward Dilawar, who was on the floor. Upon hearing Dilawar’s accusation, Rajinder rushed to the kitchen to warn Moheeni. Rajinder whispered in her ear, Moheeni’s mouth dropped open, and she hurriedly started the Jeep and left the house. Back in the living room, all the men were shouting excitedly at once. Dilawar, stumbling to his feet and straightening his turban, suddenly raised his pistol again and took aim at Kishan. Seeing this, Jaswant leaped and pushed the gun upwards just as it discharged, blasting a chunk of the ceiling to the floor. Wrestling the gun from his hand, Jaswant moved away while the others restrained Dilawar. Kishan, realizing he had been the target, reached for his gun but was quickly restrained. Shamsher hustled Dilawar into one of the other rooms and locked him inside. Kishan, angrily assuring everyone that he had calmed down, replaced his gun in his holster and straightened his jacket. Kanwar rushed into the room, having heard the shot from outside just as he was arriving. He found his brother and asked what was going on. “Dilawar went berserk for no reason and drew his gun. I guess he had too much to drink,” Jaswant told him. 157
“Come, big brother, let’s get out of here. It’s not safe,” Kanwar said, taking Jaswant’s arm and trying to lead him out the door. Trying to change the subject, Jaswant said, “You go home; the oxen need tending. The festival starts tomorrow, and they need to be hungry and run one more time so they will be ready. Go on. I’ll be along later.” “But Jakhar has already run them once today,” Kanwar said. “Tell Jakhar not to give the reigns to Ammlee. He’s too doped up with nagni, and he’ll injure the oxen,” Jaswant sternly told Kanwar. Not to be daunted, Kanwar said, “I’ll go, but not without you! Now come.” Realizing he wasn’t going to be able to divert Kanwar, he sighed and began to walk out with him. Rajinder met them as they reached the doorway. “Kanwar, did you know Ragni and her mother are here?” she said to him. Noting the look of surprise on his face, she continued, “Would you like to stay awhile and meet Ragni’s mother?” Torn between the desire to see her and his duty to get his brother to safety, he said, “I can’t now. I have to make sure Jaswant gets home safely—maybe later.” Before turning to head out the gate, he looked up and saw Ragni standing on the balcony upstairs, waving to him. Since both of his hands were busy supporting his tipsy brother, he winked and smiled at her as he left. While unbolting the outer gate, he whispered to Rajinder, “Tell Ragni I’ll meet her somehow. I’m not sure, but I’ll think of something. Things will have to be calmer around here as well.” Rajinder said, “Well, her mother’s here. I will send Smitti and Ragni to your house.” Kanwar lit up.“Yes, that would work out. About eight o’clock?” “Yes, I will tell her,” Rajinder promised. 158
It seemed to take forever for eight o’clock to arrive. Ragni and Smitti came into the room where Rajinder and Sukhi were knitting together. “Mother, Smitti and I were thinking of taking a short walk. Would that be all right?” she asked. “That sounds like a good idea,” Rajinder said on their behalf. She was torn between wanting her niece to be happy with Kanwar and feeling protective of her. But deep down, she believed that helping Ragni and Kanwar be together would fulfill her own desire for romantic love that her prearranged marriage had denied her. Upon seeing that Rajinder approved, Sukhi gave the two girls permission. The short walk across the field to Kanwar’s farm went fast. As they approached his house, he was waiting on the upstairs balcony holding his finger to his lips, signaling for them to approach quietly. Then, motioning with his hands, he directed them up the stairs, past his mother in the kitchen to the balcony. Stationing Smitti at the foot of the stairs as a lookout, Ragni and Kanwar met outside on the upper balcony. Shy with each other at first, they moved closer to one another and held hands. As Ragni looked at his face, tears of joy began to well up in the corners of her eyes. Kanwar wiped them away as they trickled down her soft cheeks, and he broke the silence between them. “These past months, I have come to understand so much more about you. You are no longer a child with childish emotions, and I have grown in this manner as well. I have missed you these days like I never have before.” They continued staring into each other’s eyes, losing themselves in the deep, wide pools. Kanwar spoke again softly, “It was a bold thing to do, coming to my house tonight. From now on, let me take the risks and meet you. That’s the way it should be.” 159
She smiled like a child who is well taken care of. “Promise?” she said. “It’s no longer a matter of promises, Ragni. It is something I know I must do. Since we have been together last, my feelings have grown deep for you too.” he said, pulling her closer to him in an embrace and kissing her forehead. “Tomorrow the festival starts. That will be a good excuse for you to leave the house. I will pick you up in the morning from outside of your aunt’s house. Make sure to get help from your Aunt Rajinder,” he instructed her. “I will be there waiting. Perhaps Smitti and Moheeni will come too. But I must leave now. My mother will be asking where I am, and your mother may come up the stairs at any moment,” she replied. They gazed into each other’s eyes one more time. The words they wished to speak to each other were not ready to be spoken, and, until that time, they were better said with the eyes. One of the highlights of life in the Punjab is the village festival. Over thirty villages gather for this event, sprawling over four or five square miles. Thousands of bearded, turbaned Sikhs strode the grounds with their four- foot-long Kirpans (a religious and ceremonial sword), or rifles slung over their shoulders; some were with their wives, while others were alone or in groups. Huge gatherings milled around for the horse races, the ox and wagon race, the folk dances, and music. Men gathered in the wrestling area, where fights often broke out between men of rival villages outside of the mats. Several police Jeeps patrolled the grounds. For all its gaiety and carnival atmosphere, it could also be a dangerous place. With the gathering of so many villages, blood feuds that dated thirty or forty years back could be easily renewed and often were. Gunfights, stabbings, and sword fights were not uncommon. Country liquor flowed freely, and though its production and consumption were illegal, it was an easy commodity to obtain at the festival. Many men 160
could be seen discreetly pulling out a hip flask and gulping the potent brew. Off in one of the tents, a large plastic container was being used to fill hip flasks of waiting customers. One of the buyers was testing its purity by dipping his index finger into a cup of it and lighting a match to it. It burned with a clean green flame, and he shook the fire off his finger, nodding that it was indeed a good brew. As they pulled into the area where all the oxen and horses were being stabled for the races, Kanwar found his brother and Jakhar, who had driven the oxen and wagon in from the farm. The oxen were brightly decorated with gold paint on their horns and tiny bells strapped around their ankles. Ammlee was there attending the animals, his eyes blazing red and his face washed and smoothed with mustard oil. Kanwar couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Ammlee with a clean face. Even his straggly beard and mustache were combed. Behind them, Jaswant came trotting up on his calico horse, its mane shining and snorting nostrils flaming red with anticipation of the race to come. Ragni saw him first and called out from the Jeep, “Hello, Bir Ji!” (address of respect from a young girl to an older man.) “How are you today?” Jaswant asked, looking like a young prince in his vest-like jacket atop his majestic and impatient animal. With a grin, he said to Kanwar, “Little brother, you are hoarding all the beauty in the world!” Smitti and Ragni giggled, but Moheeni raised her chin, meeting his joking challenge before Kanwar could reply. “If you are so worried about it, you can give your horse to Kanwar, and you can get in the Jeep. Or I can get on the horse with you.” Jaswant grinned and leaned forward. “Come on up if you want, then,” he told her, knowing full well she couldn’t do such a thing in public. “I wouldn’t mind myself, but Kishan is here somewhere.” 161
Teasing, Moheeni said, “But you told me before that you thought my brother wasn’t such a bad guy. So, why are you worried now?” Jaswant reared back in his saddle. “Would you drink poison, knowing it was poison?” he said between his smiling, pearly white teeth, using an old Punjabi analogy. “Don’t worry about poison. One day I’ll turn that poison into a soft drink,” she assured him casually, returning the slang. “Then I will wait until that day!” Turning to Kanwar and snickering, she said, “You can handle Ragni and me, can’t you?” Jaswant laughed and turned on his horse, saying, “Yes! Then that would free me to ride in this race!” He waved and galloped off. Ragni turned to Moheeni admiringly. “It sometimes takes a bit of time for me to understand your slang, but I like the way you talk. You can joke so easily with him.” Moheeni laughed softly and said, “Sounds like you’ve been bitten by the same bug I’ve been bitten by. Who is it?” Blushing and looking down, Ragni asked, “Who’s driving the Jeep?” “Do you know him well?” Moheeni asked, casting a mischievous grin to Kanwar, who was smiling, looking up at the sky and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “No, not too well,” Ragni playfully said. “But so far he’s been nice.” “Well, make him walk straight—like he’s with the daughter of a police officer,” Moheeni snickered. “I like the way you talk, Moheeni,” Ragni laughed. 162
“If you like the way I talk, come to my house whenever you come to Bhatian. I’m lonely there and would like your company,” Moheeni told Ragni sincerely. The two young women looked at each other, their eyes recognizing the start of a new friendship that would go much deeper than the light bantering they enjoyed in the Jeep this day. 163
CHAPTER 13 T he third and final day of the festival was always the most exciting. There were championship heats of all the races and sports, and the festival was drawn to a close at the awards ceremony where the Chief Minister, Mr. Gill, gave a speech. Ragni, Smitti, and Moheeni had gone on the Ferris wheel and most of the other rides and had sat together in the front row bleachers to watch the final races, which pitted Dilawar, titleholder for the past five years, on his coal-black mare, against Jaswant on his calico. At one end of the track, the two rivals glared at each other as their mares danced wildly, snorting and pawing the ground, anxious to get started. Of all the events at the festival, this was the most prestigious. Virtually everyone at the festival stopped what they were doing to watch this race. The official’s box in the center front row of the stands was decorated with yellow, green, and white banners and had a squadron of soldiers guarding the Chief Minister, Shamsher, who as the Sarpanch of Bhatian was the chief organizer of the festival, and Kishan, who represented the nonpolitical private sector of the region. The race official raised his gun and fired a shot into the air, sending the two horses and riders in a mad dash down the first of five legs around the mile-long track. Racing for the first advantage, Dilawar was able to cut off Jaswant just before reaching the first turn, and as he passed, he shot a sneer of hatred in Jaswant’s direction. 164
In the stands, two villagers who had a little too much Desi Sharab (country liquor) began poking each other in the ribs. The first drunk shouted above the roaring crowd, “Just you watch—Jaswant is going to win!” The other drunk, irritated at this stranger, jabbed a finger into his ribs and retorted, “I don’t think so. Dilawar has not lost in the past five years!” “Would you care to make a wager?” the first drunk asked, poking his finger so hard into the second drunk’s side that he winced. “How much?” the second answered belligerently. “Five whacks of the shoe on the head,” the first proposed, jabbing the other two more times even harder. “Not five! Fifty!” the second shouted, slamming his whole hand into his newfound enemy’s side. “Is that so? Then fifty it is!” the first agreed, shoving the second drunk’s shoulder, causing him to lose his balance. The second, shouting at the top of his lungs, yelled, “If you think so much of Jaswant, why don’t you give your daughter to him?” This was too much for the first drunk, who grabbed the other’s shirt and punched him in the face with his fist. The second, reeling, came up with his bamboo stick raised and ready to smash it on the first drunk’s head when suddenly it was caught in midair by one of the policemen. “What’s your problem?” the policeman shouted angrily at the two quarreling men as he grabbed their shirts and shook them up a bit. “Don’t you know the chief minister is in the stands? What’s wrong with you?” The first drunk said, “He insulted my daughter! I had to defend my honor.” By now, the senior police officer came by. “What’s all the commotion about?” he said to his subordinate. 165
“They needed a little roughing up, so I gave it to them,” the first police officer said. “Do you have it under control?” the senior officer asked the other policeman. “If I have any more trouble out of these two, I’ll have their shirts off to be beaten,” he said as he shoved one of them against the other. Cowering, the first drunk said, “We’re not enemies. It was just a friendly quarrel—all in fun. Right?” he said as he nudged the second drunk with his elbow. “Yes! That’s it. That’s right. Friends. We’re just friends, that’s all,” the second drunk agreed, grinning profusely. “Okay, friends—but if I see you two in any more trouble, I’ll take care of you good,” the first officer promised. The two drunks grinned nervously and nodded amiably until the policemen sauntered off. When they were out of sight, the two drunks turned to each other glaring, got out of their seats, and departed from each other into the thick crowd. On the fourth pass around the track, Dilawar spotted Moheeni cheering on Jaswant and was able to hear her screaming his name as they passed that part of the bleachers. His anger fueled, he put the whip to his horse with more fury. Jaswant could only see the flying manes and foaming mouths of the horses; the only noise he heard was the dull thudding of their hooves beating against the ground. Rounding the bend on the final homestretch, Dilawar was still a horse length ahead, but he felt his mare growing tired. Though he knew his horse was faster, Jaswant’s was much younger and more energetic, so now it was just a matter of the black horse being able to hang on to her lead. With less than a hundred yards to go, Jaswant’s calico pulled even; as they reached the finish line, he pulled ahead by a neck. 166
Dilawar couldn’t believe he lost his lead in such a short distance. As he watched Jaswant riding in front of him, triumphantly waving his hands in the air, he turned to the stands to see Moheeni yelling ecstatically for her love. Only then did it sink in that he had lost the race he was supposed to have won. He had lost this race as well as the woman he loved, both to Jaswant. The wild cheers of the crowd were not for him as they had been for the past five years. They were cheering for Jaswant. The officials, his friends, his fellow university students—all of them had witnessed him being beaten by Jaswant. Reflexively, as he trotted around the track to cool off his horse, he reached to his side for his pistol, his eyes riveted on Jaswant’s back. But before he could pull it out, he came back to his senses. “Not now—not in front of all these people. I’ll wait to kill you, Jaswant,” he mumbled. As he rode his mare off the track, his numbed senses beginning to catch fire. He had lost everything, and he swore a terrible oath that one day he would kill Jaswant. As the crowd moved out of the bleachers, Moheeni and the other two girls made their way to the stable area to meet Jaswant. “Come on, let’s grab our victorious hero so he can help us cheer on Kanwar’s field hockey team,” Moheeni said, leading the way. At the other field, Kanwar and his teammates from Bhatian were warming up for their match with Tanda. The pride of the village was at stake in the final game, but more than that, all the players were well aware there would be several professional scouts watching the game, looking for potential stars among the youths. In the first half, both offenses seemed to be too tight, but the defenses played brilliantly, with Kanwar in his center-half position warding off several charges by the green-clad attackers of Tanda. In the second half, Tanda’s offense got on track but was constantly thwarted by Kanwar’s tenacious defensive play. Clearly, Tanda was establishing itself as the superior team, but for all their domination of the field, they had no 167
goals to show for it, and the match remained scoreless. Finally, during one of the Tanda attacks, there was a defensive lapse on their own end. Stealing the ball from an attacker, Kanwar cleared it by hitting it over the charging offense to two of his own teammates. On an open field breakaway, there was only one Tanda defender and the goalkeeper to face them. Passing off back and forth, they got past the last defender and, with a close-range slap shot, the game’s first goal was scored. The crowd roared, and Ragni began screaming with joy. “What’s wrong with that young girl?” asked one of the spectators sitting in front of Ragni as the girl’s piercing screams forced him to cover his ears. The white jerseys and shorts of the Bhatian players were turning a shade darker from the sweat drenching their bodies as they held off wave after wave of furious Tanda attacks, but in the end, they prevailed. Bhatian had won the championship game, 1 to 0. The final event over, Jaswant left the girls to make his way onto the field for the presentation of the festival awards. A wooden platform and electric cords and microphones were brought out to the midfield area. A cordon of heavily armed police escorted the chief minister and the group of festival officials, including Shamsher, Kishan, and the announcer who would pass out the awards and close the festival with a speech. When it came time to give the second-place award for the horse race, Dilawar didn’t step forward when Kishen called out his name. A low murmur went through the crowd, and, embarrassed, Kishen proceeded to announce the winner, Jaswant. The chief minister then crowned the winners. The field hockey trophy was the last prize to be awarded, and, as a co-captain, Kanwar was among those who accepted it amid the cheers from the crowd. After all the athletes were cleared from the field, the stadium lights were turned on, spotlighting the chief minister for his closing speech. A rotund man with glasses, he took the microphone and looked out to the crowd, surveying them like a potentate, and began his speech, a rousing 168
and appealing pump to the emotions of the crowd who had already been primed by the excitement of the hockey match. …and so I say to all the villages of the Punjab, you have more than adequate reason to be proud. You, the farmers, feed all of India. The food produced per acre is the highest yield in the world. The bravery of the men of the Punjab is unrivaled. It was you who played the major part centuries ago in the liberation of India from the Mughuls, and more recently, from the British. Though we of the Punjab comprise only two percent of the population of India, thirteen percent of the soldiers and twenty-six percent of the officers in the Indian army hail from this land. The history of the Punjab rightly deserves to be written in gold letters. And for these reasons, I will, as chief minister of the state, do my best to help us maintain our illustrious heritage. I will fight to lower the loan percentages for farmers, reduce the prices of fertilizers, and secure the needed grants for a new sports stadium …” And on he went, the crowd, mostly drunk by now, applauding wildly at everything he said. By the time he finished his speech, everyone was cheering but unsure of what exactly they were cheering for. But it didn’t matter—it was the most excitement they had all year, and it seemed a fitting end for the three days. It was early evening, and Moheeni was alone in her room mulling over the events of the last few days—of the way her country used to be and what it was now becoming. The Punjab, she thought to herself, the Land of Five Rivers—land of the brave people. The land here is so beautiful, with hills, valleys, rivers, a mild climate—everything about it has the potential to be among the best in the world, yet its society is eroding. Two-thirds of the land of Punjab went into the division of Pakistan. One million innocent lives were taken—the worst genocide in the history of the world. 169
Her thoughts went back to Dilawar’s mad outburst at Jaswant, the open implication he made of her having an affair, and then his firing a gun at her brother. Dilawar hadn’t said it aloud and hadn’t made the direct connection that it was Jaswant who was robbing his house, but she knew Kishan now suspected it. Thinking about her country again, she wondered where it went wrong. The men of the Punjab are the fiercest in India and among the best fighting men in the world—afraid of nothing. But now, they have turned to fighting with themselves, saying it’s their honor that they fight for when it is nothing more than their bloated egos. The men have begun to lose their pride and integrity, selling it to the corrupt gangsters who offer the highest bid. The politicians, the police—all have been bought off, and my very existence is being supported by one of those doing the buying, my brother, Kishan. She knew he was a part of the machinery that corrupted the government but was unaware of the extent to which he was involved. He was always careful to handle his business transactions discreetly. As she sat moodily contemplating these thoughts, she heard Kishan’s Jeep pull into the court- yard. He had apparently wrapped up his festival duties. A short while later, Kartari, the maid, called up to her that dinner was being served. As the brother and sister sat for the evening meal, Kishan began talking, pretending to talk to himself at first, but pointing it indirectly at Moheeni. “Strange—Dilawar used to be such a nice young man. Then, without any warning, he has a crazed outburst at Shamsher’s gathering, first at Jaswant, then pulling a gun on me. When he loses the final horse race to Jaswant, he doesn’t even show up for his award at the closing ceremonies. It seems he has been suffering from an acute case of jealousy. Would you know why this is, by any chance?” he asked, now staring accusingly at Moheeni. Tempered by the force and cunning of her brother’s tactics, she remained cool. 170
“You know what they say—one bull can’t live in the same village with another, that’s all,” she said, sipping her tea and not even returning Kishan’s penetrating stare. “I agree, but the bulls must fight one day. What will be the result?” he said, still riveted on her. “Maybe their ill feeling toward each other can be resolved by Shamsher— after all, he is the Sarpanch,” she replied. “Dilawar said some unforgivable things that day,” he continued, building up a steaming anger. Sensing this, she adroitly caught him off guard and changed the subject. “You’re getting old. You should get married so someone can take care of you. Then you wouldn’t be so mean,” she said dryly. Off-balance, he started laughing at the gentle ribbing he was getting from his younger sister. “Speaking of getting married, I’ve been thinking it’s time for me to look for a husband for you,” he said, still chuckling. “Don’t worry about me. I’m thinking of getting a master’s degree after I finish university,” she stated assuredly. “You should be thinking of getting a wife for yourself,” she said smiling. Squirming shyly in his seat, he smiled and turned his head. “Young girls take time and much worry. But if I can find a husband for you, that would be one less worry for me.” “Oh, big brother. I’m a grown woman. Why should my welfare and what I do be of concern to you?” she asked, growing more serious. The playful smile dropped suddenly from his face. Moheeni tried to smile, but she knew his suspicious thoughts had been rekindled. His mind 171
reeled back to the gathering at Shamsher’s. What could Dilawar possibly want that Jaswant had? Nothing, nothing except Moheeni. It was Jaswant who was robbing his house. He had put it out of his mind until the festival was over, but now he had to face this serious issue, no matter how unpleasant it was. But now was the time to wait—wait and do nothing. His experience often taught him that in times of potential crises, doing nothing was often the best solution. All might yet pass without further attention being brought to this affair. It was not yet common knowledge, but once it did become known to the public that Moheeni was having an affair with Jaswant, his honor would demand that he have Jaswant killed, Dilawar killed for his insult, and Moheeni would have to be severely beaten and locked out in the house. As these cold thoughts raced through his brain, he turned his icy glare to Moheeni and caught her looking vulnerable for the slightest second. The seriousness of his stare told her that whatever happened with her from now on, he had better not hear about it. Under his warning glare, Moheeni felt like a butterfly with its wings pinned to a wall. She fumbled for a biscuit on the table. Turning his glare straight ahead, knowing the full impact and meaning of his eyes had reached her, he asked, “Who was that young girl I saw you with at the festival?” Jumping slightly at the sound of his voice and relieved that the words weren’t of a more accusing nature, she cleared her throat and answered hoarsely, “That was Shamsher’s niece from Jullundur.” “I believe I saw her seven or eight years ago here. She was just a little girl then. Isn’t she the daughter of the inspector general of police?” he asked, picking up his teacup and taking a sip, taking note of her flustered reactions. “Yes, that’s the one,” she said. Nodding but not saying anything more, he set his teacup down and left the table to retire to his room for the night. 172
“I don’t know what kind of magic you have, Rajinder, but every vacation Ragni has, she can hardly wait to come here. I’m her mother, but sometimes I feel she doesn’t even miss me when she’s away. All she seems to want to do is come here.” Sukhbans Kaur had started out joking, but her voice grew serious. Continuing, she confided in her sister-in-law, “I’m not jealous, I just want to understand. She tells me she likes village life—the river, the fresh air, and the wide-open space. But she’s my daughter, and her father and I love her very much; we just can’t seem to figure out why she always wants to come here.” Rajinder felt a little uncomfortable and tried making excuses for Ragni. “I don’t know why she likes it here either. I often wonder the same thing. Maybe it’s being in the country that she enjoys so much.” Pondering, Sukhbans Kaur half-heartedly replied, “That’s possible.” Then the incident at the temple with the old priest flashed into Rajinder’s mind. “Sukhbans Kaur I’m not sure this has anything to do with what we’re talking about, but it may help. You know that even though Ragni is your daughter, I love her as if she were my own, and I always wondered what it was that was so special about this child that brought out this love in me. But it’s not just me—everyone she comes in contact with seems to love her. “Anyway, years ago, when Ragni was only five years old, I took her with me to the temple. The old priest there took one look at her and commented on the purity of her soul. He said that such beings were very rare on earth. Then he asked me if her Akashic Records had ever been read and documented. I told him I’d ask you, but I never thought about it again until just now.” Sukhbans Kaur sat upright in her chair and put her hand to her mouth in thought. It was nothing strange to hear that a priest had said this of Ragni—she had always known Ragni was very different. Then she remembered a vacation they had taken many years ago. 173
“Akashic Records—yes, we had Ragni’s read many years ago by an old Pandit who was a friend of my father-in-law. We were in Hardwar, the Place of God, in the north. We thought it a novelty at the time and didn’t think much of it. The old priest said he couldn’t possibly read all of her past lives, as it would be too monumental a task, so he outlined the important parts. I believe the document is somewhere in our house if we haven’t thrown it out.” Rajinder’s interest was piqued. “Would you be able to bring them the next time you visit? I’d like to look at them. I’ve always been fascinated as to how the Pandits can figure those things out.” Sukhbans Kaur added, “These things are beyond my thinking. As far as I’m concerned, they’re secrets only they and nature know about.” Rajinder nodded, “I agree. The old priest told me it was written in the Holy Book that when a man died, he reaped the results of his good and bad actions and that his soul is presented in front in the court of God, and when it is ready for rebirth, the Lord chooses which body it will be best suited to enter.” Sukhbans Kaur nodded in semi-amazement. “I guess most people around here don’t believe that.” She grew quiet again, her thoughts turning back to Ragni. Then she turned her eyes upward and said, as if to herself, “A few months ago, Ragni fainted at an awards ceremony at the Sanawar School. After we took her to the hospital, I had a talk with the principal. She asked me if Ragni had a boyfriend. I didn’t know if she did or not. Do you know of any boy Ragni likes?” she asked Rajinder. Catching her breath, Rajinder sat up and squirmed slightly, unsure of how to answer this. “Well, there is one boy she sees once in a while here.” “Who is he?” Sukhi asked, surprised. “His name is Kanwar, Jaswant’s brother.” Sukhi rolled the names of the two young men around her mouth silently, trying to remember which ones they were at the gathering. 174
“What does Kanwar do?” she asked. “Well, he’s in the high school,” Rajinder said, not exactly knowing how to describe the boy. “Where did they first meet?” Sukhbans Kaur asked. “It happened when we were coming home from the visit to the temple when the priest asked for Ragni’s Akashic Records. I saw a tractor running wild toward a telephone pole. I called to the boy in the field, who was Jaswant. He raced for the tractor and turned it just in time. When he came to thank us, there was a small boy in the driver’s seat with him. That was Kanwar. I invited him over to play with Ragni later, and the two have been friends ever since,” Rajinder recounted the events. “Does Ragni like him?” “It’s hard to say. I guess I would say she does a little bit,” Rajinder said, knowing she was bending the truth. “What’s he like?” Sukhbans Kaur persisted. “He’s good-natured, well-mannered, trustworthy, very tall and handsome. They talk about innocent things—sometimes it makes me want to listen in on them, but I can’t, of course,” Rajinder laughed. “May I meet him?” Sukhbans Kaur asked. Pausing a moment, Rajinder replied, “Yes, why not?” She called Smitti and requested that she go over to Kanwar’s to see if he could come to the house for a little while. Half an hour later, he shyly entered the room, curious to see what they wanted of him. “Come on, young man; we are here.” Kanwar started walking towards where the two women were sitting. “Sat Sri Akal ji,” Kanwar looked at them with a shy face and his head down. 175
Sukhbans Kaur smiled and tried to put him at ease. “Hello, Kanwar,” she said. “Rajinder tells me you are a friend of Ragni. I just wanted to meet you and say hello. I’m always glad to meet Ragni’s friends.” Kanwar stood smiling bashfully, not really knowing how to respond. Sensing his discomfort at this cross-examination, Rajinder jumped in and tried to help. “I heard Bhatian won the championship field hockey game at the festival and that you played very well,” she said admiringly. “Well, my teammates played exceptionally. They deserve the real credit,” he said modestly. At that moment, Ragni was walking down the stairs. Seeing the back of Kanwar’s figure in the doorway where her mother and aunt were talking, she stopped and nervously turned around to head back up the stairs. Sukhi was just about to continue asking Kanwar more questions when she saw Ragni disappear back upstairs. “Kanwar, I believe Ragni is somewhere upstairs. Perhaps she would like some company,” she said, stifling a smile after seeing Ragni running away timidly. She remembered how embarrassed she had always been when her parents were in the presence of a boy she liked. Smiling awkwardly, Kanwar gave a half-wave to the two women and disappeared up the stairs. 176
CHAPTER 14 I t had been three weeks since Ragni received the only letter from Kanwar since she had returned to school. The last two months were wreaking havoc on her nerves from not being able to see him, and her health was starting to decline once again. Her body always seemed to be running a fever, and she lost interest in all her classes and activities. The principal, Mrs. Parmar, though she liked all her best students to have their own room, now had Ragni sharing a room with another student, Anita, so there would be someone watching her at night to keep her from wandering outside. Her latest depression spell had Anita worried. Ragni hadn’t even been attending classes lately, and she was letting her physical appearance go down as well. She went to PrincipalParmar to tell her of Ragni’s condition. Later that afternoon, Mrs. Parmar came by her room. “Hello, Ragni. May I come in?” she asked, knocking lightly on the half-opened door. “Yes, of course, Ma’am,” Ragni said sleepily. “Ragni, you don’t look well, the color is gone from your face; are you feeling alright?” she said, a look of concern on her face. “It must be the changes in the weather, Ma’am. I think I just need some rest,” Ragni said listlessly. 177
“Hmmm. Yes, the sudden cool weather affects us all. I’ll have the nurse take a look at you. If there’s anything else I can do for you, please ask. I’d like you to think of me as your mother, not just as a school principal,” she said warmly before she left. Tears welled up in Ragni’s eyes as she fell back into her bed, sobbing quietly. If you really wanted to do something for me, you’d let me leave school, so I could be free from this sadness and suffering caused by nature, she thought. As Mrs. Parmar left the dorm, she felt there was something else wrong with Ragni other than just the changes in the weather. When she reached her office, she had the nurse take a look at Ragni, and then had a messenger find her roommate, Anita. Nurse Sonita came back first. “She was running a very slight temperature of about 100, but other than that, there was nothing wrong with her physically that I could see. I gave her a couple of aspirins and just had her stay in bed the remainder of the day,” she reported back to the principal. “Thank you, Ms. Sonita,” Mrs. Parmar said. The nurse smiled and left her office. Anita was waiting outside, and she was asked to come in as the nurse left. “Anita, have you noticed anything out of the ordinary with Ragni these past few days or weeks?” she asked the young girl. “Well, she seems to be a little sad lately, but she’s also started talking in her sleep. It wakes me up in the middle of the night, and she says things like, “You said you’d write—I’m dying—You haven’t written me—Kanwar, I miss you so.” Anita looked at Mrs. Parmar and blushed. “I figured she was missing a boy named Kanwar. When I’d shake her and wake her up, I’d ask her what she was dreaming about, and who Kanwar was, but she’d say she didn’t remember and that it was probably just a bad dream she was having. Then we’d go back to sleep, and it would start all over again the next night.” 180
Mrs. Parmar nodded gravely and said, “Anita I want you to do a favor for me and for Ragni as well. Keep an eye out for her. If she starts getting worse at all, please tell me immediately, okay?” Anita nodded with understanding. The next morning, Anita knocked on the principal’s office door. “Yes come in,” Mrs. Parmar said. “Ma’am, it’s Ragni. She called out the same things in her sleep last night, and this morning, when I was dressing for classes, she was still in bed. When I came back to my room for some books, she was still in bed, but she looked much worse and she was moaning. I thought I ought to tell you,” Anita said, feeling that she was betraying Ragni but knowing it was the best thing to do. “Thank you, Anita. I’ll go over and have a look at her with the nurse. But before she did, she sent a telegram to Ragni’s mother in Jullundur explaining the situation. The next day, Sukhbans Kaur received the telegram. When IG Mohinder Partap Singh came home from work that evening, she handed it to him. “We have to find out what’s going on with her,” she said, visibly shaken. A frown of concern crossed Mohinder’s forehead, and putting the telegram down, he thought for a moment. “Early tomorrow morning, I’ll send two security guards with you, and the family doctor and a nurse to her. Have them look her over. If there is any doubt in your mind as to her condition, have her come home with you, grades and school or not,” he said firmly. “Take two cars with you, and come back only if the doctor tells you that she is alright.” Midnight was the worse time of all for Ragni. Drenched in sweat, she thrashed around in her bed shouting. Anita, awakened by all the noise, struggled to wake Ragni. Her eyes were wild and her hair was strewn across her face; she panted, struggling to remember where she was. 181
Earlier that day, Kanwar skipped into his house and tossed his gym bag on the kitchen table. “Mother, we won! We won the District Shield today; next, we go to Chandigarh!” he said jubilantly. “Congratulations, captain!” Sham Kaur said as she hugged him. “Is there anything new around here? It’s just been five days for the tournament, but it feels like a month.” he said. “Well, things have been the same around here. Oh yes, you have a letter on your desk,” she said. “Are you hungry?” “A little bit, I need a shower before I do anything, though,” he said, racing up the stairs to his room. After showering and eating, he returned upstairs to his room. As he was turning out the light to go to sleep, his eye caught the letter he had forgotten about. Opening it up, he read: Dear Kanwar, How are you? I guess the hockey tournaments are keeping you very busy. I hope your team does well. Things in school are okay, but I miss you. I wish there was some way I could come and see you, but I cannot get away. As I grow, my love for you grows as well. Lots of love always, Ragni Her letter brought mixed emotions to him. He was happy to hear from her, but at the same time, he remembered how negligent he had been in writing to her. He also remembered telling her on his balcony that day that 182
next time it would be he that would come to see her. He was in the middle of reading it over when his mother knocked on the door. Hiding the letter in his nightshirt, he let her come in. “I brought you a glass of warm milk; I thought it may help you sleep a little better after all those games,” she said. “Thank you, mother,” he said, taking the warm glass from her. Still troubled, he read the letter over again and lay down on his bed. Though it was on his mind, and he wondered what he could do about Ragni, the milk began to take effect, and in a moment, he was asleep. Half an hour later, he heard a voice. Unsure if he was asleep or not, it startled him so that he sat up in bed. “Kanwar—Kanwar, I miss you so much; I feel I’m dying--Kanwar,” the voice said. It was Ragni. Blinking, he fumbled for the light by his bed and switched it on. Look- ing about his room, he saw no sign of her. All he could hear was the soft hissing in his head. Downstairs, he could hear the muffled gongs from the large pendulum clock signaling that it was midnight. Wondering if he was dreaming or not, he tried to remember, but no, it was no dream. It was too vivid. He distinctly heard Ragni’s voice calling to him. Rising from his bed, he started checking around his room for her. It was totally irrational, but he started by looking under his bed because that’s where it seemed her voice came from. Feeling slightly foolish, he got off his hands and knees after looking under there and started searching his closet— still no sign. It made no sense to be looking around the house like this, but then again, it made no sense to hear her voice so distinctly. He looked out on the balcony, back in the house, and in the hallways. He tiptoed to his mother’s room and carefully opened her door so that she wouldn’t be awakened, he peeked through the crack in the door until his eyes adjusted to the darkness of her room, and he could see that she was the only one in 183
there. Making his way to Jaswant’s room, he followed the same procedure. He crept downstairs and searched the rest of the house, all in vain. Slipping on his shoes and wrapping a blanket around himself, he started walking across the field to Shamsher and Rajinder’s farm, but a few steps toward their house, he could see no lights. He knew it was too late to be bothering them like this and turned back. Back in his bedroom, he sat on his bed with his head propped up against the wall. He thought of Ragni and how she had written him several times, and he answered only one letter. He thought again of the time he told her he would come to see her from now on. He thought of all the hockey tourna- ments that were taking up all his time and attention; he had neglected her and now was feeling that he wished he had done more for her. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but still unable to sleep, he got off his bed. It was five o’clock, and he knew all the farmers would be up by now. Putting on some warm clothes, he sneaked out of his house and made his way across the field to Shamsher’s house. When he knocked on the door, Rajinder answered. “Kanwar, what can I do for you this early in the morning?” she said surprised, but still pleased to see him. “This may sound crazy, but somehow, I felt Ragni was here with you. Is she?” he asked. A look of surprise came over her face. “No, how could she be? She doesn’t have any vacation now. Why do you ask?” she said curiously. “Just a hunch. I told you, I thought it was crazy,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. Smiling, Rajinder said, “Now, I know you are in love. But I’ll tell you something; your love affair won’t work without me. Where would Ragni stay if it weren’t for me? Better pray to God for my health,” she said laughing. 184
Kanwar looked at the ground in embarrassment. “Well, I should be getting ready for school I’m sure you have many things to attend to as well. I’m sorry to have bothered you with such silliness,” Kanwar said. “Anytime at all, Kanwar,” she said as he left her house. He wanted to tell her what happened, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell anyone about this. While walking across the field, he knew what he had to do. His next hockey training camp wasn’t due to meet in Chandigarh for another three days, but he could leave early, meet Ragni in Sanawar, and still get to Chandigarh in time for camp. When he reached his room, he began packing some fresh clothes into his gym bag and got ready for the day. Downstairs, he approached his mother. “Mother, I forgot to tell you yesterday that we have an early training camp in Chandigarh. I have to leave today, and won’t be back for a week,” he said. His mother was caught a little off guard, but she was used to it. Lately, it seemed like there was a hockey tournament every week, and he would be gone practically all the time. “Well, I guess if you have to go, you have to go. Did you tell Jaswant?” she asked. “No, he wasn’t in his room. I guess he’s out in the fields already. Could you tell him for me?” he said. “Well, I guess so, take care and good luck,” she said hugging and kissing him on his forehead. When the bus stopped in the next town from Bhatian, he sent a tele- gram to Ragni telling her he would be arriving at her school that evening at six o’clock. 185
“Ragni? Are you up dear?” her mother asked through the door of her room. It was noon, and the entourage of Sukhbans Kaur, the family doctor, and nurse were all waiting outside Ragni’s dorm room. “Mother, what a surprise to see you,” Ragni said as she sleepily opened her door to let them all in. “We received a telegram from your principal; she was quite worried about your health, but the doctor couldn’t seem to find anything wrong, so we brought the family doctor to have a look at you,” Sukhi said. “Oh, I guess I’m okay, mother. This wasn’t necessary,” Ragni said un- convincingly as her mother bustled around in her small room, moving furniture so that the doctor and nurse could have some room to examine her. After a series of normal tests, the family doctor turned to Sukhi shaking his head. “Well, everything seems to be alright. She has a very slight temperature of a little under 100, but other than that, I can’t seem to find anything wrong with her,” he said. “She just seems to be a little moody that’s all; this happens with young women at her age sometimes.” “Well, at least we can get you into some clean clothes and comb your hair. Maybe that will give you a bit of a lift,” her mother said starting to fuss over her. Moments after getting into a clean dress, there was a knock on the door. “I’ll get it,” Ragni said. As she opened the door she saw a postman with a telegram. Calling back into her room, she said, “I’ll be just a moment, mother,” and went out into the hallway to sign for it. Reading it quickly, her heart jumped. It was from Kanwar, and he was coming in a matter of hours to see her. Catching her breath, she folded the telegram and stuffed it into her blouse. Trying to compose herself, she stood in the hallway a few seconds more to think. When she felt more in control, she entered her room again as calmly as she could. 186
“Who was it, Ragni?” her mother asked. “Oh, just a friend,” she said. Then pausing for a moment, she said, “You know, mother, getting into some fresh clothes and seeing you seems to have made me feel much better. I think I’m going to be much better from now on.” A surprised but pleased look came into Sukhi’s eyes. “Well I’m so glad to hear you say that, Ragni. If it makes you feel better, I’ll see if I can stay a few more days.” Catching herself so she wouldn’t gulp too loudly, Ragni steadied her breath and said, “That would be nice, mother, but I’ve caused enough trouble for you as it is. I’m sure the doctor and nurse have better things to do than to be babysitting me, and besides, father must be missing you. Please don’t stay on my account. I’m feeling much better now that you’ve come, but I really don’t want you to take anymore time just for me.” “Well, we came in two cars. I could send the doctor and the nurse back, and I could remain with you a couple of days just to make sure you are doing all right,” Sukhi said, confused by the sudden change in Ragni’s behavior. Ragni’s heart sank, and she tried not to show it on her face. She wanted to protest further, but something told her to hold her tongue. “What do you think, doctor? I’m not supposed to come home unless Ragni gets a clean bill of health from you,” she said, turning to the doctor. “Well, as I said, she has checked out as almost in perfect health. I thought it was more a case of moodiness, which she seems to be out of now,” he said, looking at Ragni, who was getting more hopeful at his words. “Yes, I feel much better. I guess I’ve been a little moody because of my studies. I have my final exams coming up, but I feel ready to start studying for them now,” Ragni said, groping for a solution. “Well, I guess if you have studies, I may just be in the way. Are you sure she is in good health, doctor?” she said, still unsure of what to do. 187
“As I said, her physical health was normal. Young women at this age are often subject to large swings in their moods. One moment they are depressed and the next, shining like a bell—like Ragni is now,” he said, looking at her. “Well, I guess you’re right. She does look like she’s out of her mood. Are you sure you’re not going to have a relapse, Ragni?” she asked once more. “Oh no, Mother. I feel much better. Seeing you was just what I needed, but now I’m ready to really study hard,” she said as convincingly as she could. Putting her hand to Ragni’s forehead, she said, “Well, your body temperature seems to have gone down to normal. I guess maybe we’ll go after having something to eat. If we leave by four o’clock, we’ll be home by six. Is there a place we can go nearby?” her mother asked. “Yes, there’s the school cafeteria. We can walk there,” Ragni said cheerfully. As the bus was pulling into Chandigarh, Kanwar was planning what he had to do. It was less than a one-hour ride to the training camp outside the town. He would take a bus there and drop off most of his clothes at the team’s locker room, and then catch another bus back to Chandigarh, where he would board the final bus to Sanawar. It was eleven o’clock now, and he would be cutting it close time-wise. The bus driver let him off right in front of the school. Across the street, he saw the road that led into the grounds. As he started to cross, he saw Ragni come running toward him from behind the cover of some trees. As soon as he reached the other side of the road, she ran and jumped into his arms, hugging him, and laughing and crying all at the same time, and showering his face with kisses. 188
“Oh, Kanwar. I knew you’d come; I knew it! I’m so happy to see you; I thought I would die if I did not see you soon,” she cried, hugging his neck tightly. Then after holding each other for a moment, as if remembering where she was, she turned and looked back at the school to see if anyone was watching them. “Come, we can’t stay here; are you hungry?” she asked excitedly. “Well, it’s been quite a while since I’ve eaten anything. Is there some- where nearby?” he asked, smiling and beaming from seeing her again. “There’s a little restaurant right over there. We can walk to it in five minutes,” she said. “What are we waiting for?” he said, grinning as he took her hand in his. After catching up with all of the things that had transpired in their lives since the last time they saw each other, he asked her if there was a place he could stay for a couple of nights before having to return to Chandigarh. “Right next to this restaurant, there’s a little motel that’s very clean and reasonable. There’s a little brook that runs next to it, and I’ve heard the rooms are very nice. My roommate’s parents stay there when they visit sometimes. You can stay there. I have to get back to school so that I won’t be missed, but tonight I can sneak out of my room and meet you there at eleven o’clock,” she said. That night in her dorm room, Anita noticed the dramatic change in Ragni’s behavior. She was glad she looked better, but at the same time, she was confused. “Ragni, you’re so happy all of a sudden. What happened?” she asked. “Oh, I don’t know, Anita. I guess it was seeing my mother again,” Ragni said, humming a little tune. Shrugging, Anita thought that sounded as plausible as any other reason and washed up for bed. After room checks, Ragni turned off the light and said goodnight to Anita, but she was anything but sleepy. 189
After a few minutes, she could hear soft, steady breathing, telling her Anita was sleeping soundly. She waited until ten minutes to eleven and then stealthily eased out of her room. At one o’clock in the morning, Anita got out of bed to use the restroom. Rubbing her eyes as she returned to the bedroom, she tried to be as quiet as she could. As she slipped into her bed, she noticed something was wrong. She moved closer to Ragni’s bed, just to make sure she was sleeping alright, only to find that she had gone. Thinking to herself, she tried to remember if she saw her in the bathroom and went back to see if she was there. Starting to panic, she ran to the dorm lounge to see if she was there reading, but she somehow knew she wouldn’t find her. Running to the dorm supervisor’s cabin, she pounded on her door. “Mrs. Pelia, forgive me for waking you up, but Ragni is missing again. I’ve looked in the bathroom and the lounge, but she’s not there!” Anita said excitedly. “I’ll be right there. I’ll call Mrs. Parmar. In the meantime, wait here for me,” she said, tying her robe. At first, it was just the three of them, plus the security guards searching the immediate grounds, but as it became obvious that Ragni wasn’t around, the rest of the girls in the dorm were awakened to help with the search. Some were sent with one of the security guards and Mrs. Pelia to the old castle where she was seen once; the others scattered themselves around the area with flashlights. In the little motel room, Ragni and Kanwar had talked themselves out and were now resting. Kanwar’s arm was around her, and both were dozing on the bed. She wished she could stay here just like this forever—listening to the babbling brook outside the window and resting peacefully against Kanwar’s shoulder. She looked at his watch. It was three in the morning. “Kanwar,” she said softly, nudging his side. “I must go back to my room now.” 190
Opening his eyes slowly, he looked at her lovingly. “When will I be able to see you again?” he asked. Rising off the bed and straightening her dress, she said, “I’ll come a little later in the morning. I have one class I must attend, but after that, I can skip the others. I’ll be by here about ten, okay?” As she left him at the door, he took her hands, and they looked longingly in each other’s eyes. When she was near the school grounds, she stopped in her tracks, seeing all the flashlights and people milling about. She moved cautiously to one of the side buildings and waited until she found a group of students with a flashlight alone without one of the security guards or teachers. “Hi, what s going on?” she whispered out of the bushes to the girls. “Look! It’s Ragni!” One of the girls said, flashing the light in her eyes. “You are what’s going on! The whole school is out looking for you!” the girl said. “Come on, we’ve got to find Mrs. Parmar and the others,” she continued, proud that it was she that first spotted the missing girl. When she faced the principal, a look of great relief eased the worried lines on Mrs. Parmar s face. “Ragni! Where on earth were you? Have you been walking in your sleep again? We were worried sick about you! As you can see, the whole dorm has been out looking for you for the past two hours,” she said, getting more excited by the moment. “I’m sorry, Ma’am,” Ragni said, her eyes unable to face the principal. “I was –I—” “ But the words wouldn’t come out, not with all the other students standing around wondering where she had been. “Mrs. Parmar, may I talk to you alone?” she said, looking around at the other girls waiting to hear what she was going to say. 191
The principal looked about at the girls and said, “Okay everyone, we’ve found her. You can all go back to bed now.” The other girls, disappointed that they weren’t going to hear what happened, reluctantly went back to bed. “Come to my bungalow, Ragni. We’ll have some tea and talk about this,” Mrs. Parmar said. Once inside the warm living room, and after a cup of tea, Ragni realized she couldn’t stall anymore. “Mrs. Parmar, if I tell you this, will you promise to excuse me for this, I am so sorry ma’am?” she pleaded Thinking it over for a moment, Mrs. Parmar agreed. Ragni relayed the story from the time Kanwar promised to see her, to the present, when she was to meet him tomorrow in his motel room. Nodding and thinking the situation over, Mrs. Parmar said, “Ragni, I trust you. I trust that you wouldn’t do anything to get yourself into trouble. I’ve told you before, and I sincerely mean it, that I feel close to you and more like a mother than a school principal, but I’d like you to look at things from my point of view this time, and if we can understand each other, perhaps we can work this out. “All the parents of the other students here send their children to Sanawar because of its reputation. An incident like this could do severe damage to the school’s credibility, not to mention your personal reputation.” Ragni felt badly for the principal. She hadn’t thought about the fact that her actions might do harm to others, and she was genuinely sorry. “Yes, ma’am. I understand,” she said. “How long will this young man be staying here?” she asked. “The rest of this evening and tomorrow. He leaves early the next morning,” she said. 192
Thinking it over, the principal spoke up. “I’ll tell you what, Ragni. I understand your feelings, and I want to help you. I cannot allow you to leave the school grounds to see this young man, but I will do this. I’ll send my chauffeur to the motel and have him brought here, to my bungalow, from the rear entrance, so no one will see him enter. He can spend tomorrow night in my guest room, and you may come here after classes and take your meals here with him and stay until it’s time for bed. But in return, you must keep this absolutely to yourself. How does that sound?” Ragni’s eyes widened and a great grin came over her face. Jumping up, she gave the principal’s neck a hug and thanked her profusely. “Now you had better go back to bed. After your first class tomorrow morning, my chauffeur will pick you up by the cafeteria and you can get Kanwar. I’ll see you after school tomorrow,” she said, smiling. 193
CHAPTER 15 T he warm waters lapped the white sands in front of Kishan’s plush beachfront bungalow as he stared out at the endless blue line that was the horizon. It was almost impossible to predict when he would decide to go home to Bhatian. The main reason for coming back was to check in on his younger sister, Moheeni. He needed to make sure her needs were being met and that no one was trying to take advantage of her. There were local matters he attended to while there, of course. He spent a certain amount of time stroking the officials. It was also a welcomed rest from the heavy business trade he was involved in, plus it was his childhood home, and he felt a certain amount of sentimental ties to it. For these reasons, he donated heavily to the local community, building a new hospital, library and pouring large amount of money into the schools in the area. To many of the local residents, he was a generous and thoughtful citizen. Most of the time, he chose to arrive alone in his Jeep, leaving his entourage of tough-looking bodyguards in Bombay or the beach house in Goa. For this reason, most of the townspeople never really realized the true nature of his business transactions. His thoughts turned to Jaswant. He genuinely liked the young man and didn’t want to have to harm him. As hard and as dangerous a business he was in, he abhorred violence, though he never hesitated to use it when he felt it necessary. He treated his gang members more than fairly and encouraged them
to fit into society more. Because of this, the matter of Jaswant and Moheeni concerned him even more. The ancient taboo of marrying or being seen with a woman in one’s owns village was an unforgivable action—one that, if he were to keep up his status as a leader in Bhatian, he could not afford to ignore. All in his village would shun him if it became known that Moheeni and Jaswant were having an affair. It would be a sign of weakness amongst his gang members, and it would just be a matter of time before one of the younger upstarts would plot to take over his drug empire—-an empire where he had the same problems as a king. It had been four days since Dilawar had been out of his house. Ever since losing the horse race to Jaswant, he couldn’t bear the thought of going out for fear of having to meet with one of the villagers. He felt that he used to own everyone’s respect because of his wealth, power, and accomplishments. He had been the champion of the festival in winning the race the previous five years, but now that he was a loser, he felt no one would respect him any longer. He thought of the many different ways he was superior to Jaswant; it just didn’t make sense to him that he should lose the race to him, and more importantly, it didn’t make sense to him why Moheeni should prefer Jaswant to him—all Jaswant owned, he owned more. He lay on his bed looking out of the window and started talking to himself. “Jaswant is the cause. If he weren’t around anymore, Moheeni would see that I am the best one. I have lost the race, but it’s still not too late. I can still win; I just have to beat Jaswant. That’s how I’ve gotten everything else in my life—by taking and beating others. Get rid of Jaswant, and she’ll have to be mine.” His mind started spinning as he came up with every option possible. “I could kidnap her. If I couldn’t win her heart the first time, I can take her away with me somewhere but not while Jaswant is around. He’ll have to die first. And Kishan–if I have to, I’ll kill him too. I’ll kidnap Moheeni, and 195
sooner or later, perhaps a matter of five or six months or even if it takes a year; she will come to love me.” But as it always did in the minds of men, the other side of his conscious- ness began a rebuttal. “...but if I kill Jaswant, she’ll never love me. One day, sooner or later, she’ll find out, and when she does, she’ll never forgive me, never.” “Murder Jaswant,” the dark side hissed. “Murder him, and she’s yours!” “But why destroy the house of Jaswant’s mother? If I kill Jaswant, she will suffer much as will the younger Kanwar. I would be taking the youth of one man, and for what? My prestige? My sense of honor? What kind of honor or prestige would there be in killing a young man and destroying the house of a poor woman, already a widow?” his heart spoke. “Men have been killing each other for centuries. In this world, the strong live, and the weak die. That’s the way it should be. Does not the lion ferret out the weak in a herd, so the strong will live? Does this not make the herd stronger in the long run? You will only get what you want by taking it. Kill him!” the bloodthirsty voice rasped at him, churning his blood hot. Clenching his teeth and fists until his knuckles started turning white, he became aware of his tenseness and tried to relax. As he did, his mind relaxed, and he opened his consciousness to the softer side of himself. “No, killing and force is not a new thing. Men have been doing terrible things to each other since the beginning. They killed and subjugated each other to slavery and torture. You know that in force, there can be no love. You know that true happiness is allowing another to be free, for by doing so, will you yourself become free.” “But can you be happy without Moheeni? No. You must have her. You have gotten everything else in life you have wanted. Take her. And if you can’t take her, there can only be one solution, just like there can only be one winner in a race. You must kill Jaswant or kill yourself. One must live; the other must 196
die,” the negative side screamed in his mind. He put his hands to his ears and squeezed his head tight, trying to shut the noise out of his mind. “Dilawar, Shamsher has come to pay you a visit,” his maid called up to him. He almost didn’t hear her with his hands over his ears. One of his servants entered the room. “Yes, yes, send him up, please,” he called back down. “I haven’t seen you around for a while and thought I’d stop by and see how you are doing,” Shamsher said, meeting Dilawar in the upstairs parlor. “Oh yes, thank you–I’ve been busy with the farm and all,” he said, knowing they both knew it wasn’t the truth. After an uncomfortable silence, Shamsher cut through the small talk to the core of why he had come. “I guess it’s a hard thing, losing the race like that, but look at it this way you’ve got so many things that are of far greater value than a trophy for winning a race. You have the largest farm and house in the village. You are one of the richest in the area; you are educated, tall and handsome. What is a race in comparison to all of that?” “No, losing the race doesn’t bother me so much anymore. I suppose I’m over that. I have been looking at my life these past few days. Sometimes, I think many of the errors I have made were because I didn’t have a father. I feel I’ve done many irresponsible things as of late. When I was a child, I was totally carefree. I had no enemies, no hate for anyone else. Now in adulthood, I’ve been making mistakes, and my life is becoming so complicated; I can’t tell right from wrong anymore,” Dilawar said. In many ways, he looked to Shamsher as the father figure he never had, and Shamsher felt somewhat responsible for looking after Dilawar as a son. The elder man consoled the younger Dilawar. “I agree, youth was never a slave to thinking, and youth rarely sees the consequences of actions, but if 197
youth became a slave to thinking, there would be no youth. Be kind to yourself, Dilawar. You have a whole lifetime in front of you to smell the beauty of the roses.” Still feeling low, Dilawar replied bitterly, “Yes, but when you smell the fragrance of the roses and try to pluck one, you may get stuck by the thorns.” Shamsher laughed uncomfortably. “Well, of course, there is a certain amount of pain in life but enough of this kind of talk. Do you have any plans for the day? How about breaking open a bottle of country liquor?” he asked, trying to change the subject. Dilawar had the maid bring up a jar of pickled chicken while the two men started pouring the country liquor. After a couple of stiff drinks, their heads were becoming a little better oiled. Shamsher started in with his philosophizing. “I’ve been hearing Jaswant and you have been having some troubles. I don’t want to hear the details, but I’ll tell you what I know from all the things I’ve seen in court since I am the Sarpanch. I’ve seen young men just like you and Jaswant in court, fighting for one reason or another—this kind of pride or that—but, do you know who comes out the winner? Neither one of the young men. No. It’s the lawyers and judges. They wait in court, smacking their lips when they see two parties coming in for a fight. Like sharks, they wait for them to beat each other to death while they pick their pockets clean with their teeth. When it’s all over, the families are both destroyed and left without anyone. “We think we are protecting our honor, but what happens when a young man is arrested after shooting a rival for a woman? The police come and abuse the young men. They beat them morally as well as physically, abusing the names of the women in the families far worse than any rival would ever dare to do. And after this, you take each other to court, that’s if there are any of you left alive, and there you are stripped of what little pride and money you have left. Does this make sense? Think, Dilawar. You’re smart, think,” Shamsher said as he poured him another drink. 198
Dilawar nodded sadly, “Yes that all makes sense, and perhaps in the future, I will be able to look back upon this as something I fretted over fool- ishly, but in the meantime, I am feeling the pain of a heart that has broken.” “Who has broken your heart?” Shamsher said, draining the last of his glass. “Moheeni,” Dilawar said quietly. Rearing his head back a bit, Shamsher said, “Do you love Moheeni, or is she just a toy for one night of pleasure and prestige?” “No, don’t say that. Since I have loved Moheeni, all has changed in my life,” he protested. “How has she broken your heart?” he asked. “She told me a woman can love only one man, and she already loves another. Do you know who this is? I have lost to a man that is lesser than I,” Dilawar said, ashamed. “You are not a lesser man than Jaswant. It may be that Moheeni does not love you because of your past reputation with the village girls,” he said. “If only I could show her how much I’ve changed because of her,” Dilawar said wistfully. “And what if she does learn of how nice you are? What could she give you? You are of the same village. You could not be married or even be seen together,” Shamsher said testily. “Why not?” Dilawar shouted, pounding his empty glass on the table. “Pour!” he said, pointing to the glass. “No. No more. You have had enough today,” Shamsher said, capping the bottle and putting it on the shelf. “I gave you my suggestions. Please think about it.” 199
As Shamsher got up to leave, Dilawar stood to walk him down the stairs and outside. “You are right. You are older than I, and the mayor of the town. I lose my temper sometimes; I don t mean it,” he said, showing deference. After Shamsher left, Dilawar went back to his room to lie down and think more about the whole situation. As he looked out the window, the battle in his mind between the ethical and the indulgent side began. He thought of the words Shamsher said to him, “And what if she does learn of how nice you are? What could she give you?” Anger rose in his brain, and he shouted, “If she can be nice to Jaswant, why not to me, too, in the same manner?” The ethical side appealed to his reasoning, “If you kill Jaswant, she’ll never love you. Murder Jaswant and you murder Moheeni as well. True love gives it does not take. If you really and truly love Moheeni, you would wish only the best for her, even if it means making a sacrifice of your own desires for her. If you truly love Moheeni, you can no longer harbor ill feelings toward Jaswant as he is the one she loves and the one that brings her happiness.” The heart had struck home to his beingness. He knew it was right, and his mind, in a last-ditch attempt to get its way, shot out at him, “Loser! What kind of love do you speak of? If you let Moheeni have her way, she will never love you! Kill Jaswant, and she will be yours! Kill Jaswant!” The tenseness reached his head, making it throb. His eyes turned upward to the wall where the dull glint off the barrel of his rifle caught his eye from the gun rack hanging there. He sat up on the edge of his bed and pulled open the drawer of his nightstand. Reaching in, he lifted out a shiny revolver and started fingering it. “Kill him! Kill him or drop the matter forever!” the evil part of his mind said in a vile whisper. Staring at the gun, the last vestiges of the terrible force in his mind ripped through him. He offered it no resistance, and he let it pass. The heart was 200
winning. He would allow love to live in his heart from this day on. The anger poured out of him like wind seeking an open pass, and as it flowed out of his beingness, tears flowed from his eyes; the cleansing rains washed out the last vestiges of the poison. The gun dropped out of his hands as he wept openly. The last battle of the war had been fought within him; spent, he fell back on his bed into a deep, dreamless sleep. When he woke, the world was new to him. It was the same farm that he was raised on and the same room he entered a few hours before, but now, he was looking at all of it with different eyes. There was no longer the competitive anger or the fear of not being respected in his heart, but, most importantly, there was no longer the hate for Jaswant and the destructive possessiveness for Moheeni. He felt like he was the child of his happier years once again, and as he looked out his window, he realized a world from this new viewpoint could be full of wonder and miracles. He went outside to the shed and saddled his horse for a ride, trotting on the side of the road amongst the tall cotton plants. Ahead, he could see a solitary figure riding on a horse. His heart sang to him as he realized it was Moheeni. Pulling up next to her, he asked in a soft voice, “Moheeni, please— may I talk with you?” “Why?” Moheeni answered, slightly caustically and wary. Riding in front of her, so he could see her face, he said, “Please it was not my plan to see you on this road now, but since we are here, I feel compelled to talk with you.” Stopping, she looked about to see if anyone could see them, and stepping off the road into the cover of the high cotton plants,“What is it?” she asked. Dismounting the horse, he moved closer to the cotton. 201
“Whatever you have thought of the old Dilawar, the Dilawar that has had illicit relations with other farm girls—that Dilawar has been wounded by your love and beauty. Now, I feel the dagger of your love cutting my neck. I have quit all my jealousies of Jaswant, but I must tell you this, that because of you, I have seen the way of the heart, and now it is my only wish that I live through the goodness of the heart. This is because of you,” he said. She looked suspiciously at him, but his face hid no deceit. “If you have found a new way to live through your heart, I am very glad for you, but what do you think I can give you? I told you already that day on the bridge that I respect you as a decent human being, but that I love another.” Without a word, he drew closer to her and plucked one of the soft cotton boughs and slipped its stem behind her ear. “What’s this for?” she asked. “Consider it a gesture of a decent human being,” he said softly. “What is this? What kind of response do you want from me? What do you think I can do for you?” she said, clearly upset. Breathing hard, she walked away from him quickly down the road and jumped on her horse. She was used to handling tough, aggressive men, but this was something she was totally unprepared for, especially from Dilawar. The next morning as the sun was rising, Moheeni took her customary walk barefoot in the grass. From his room, Dilawar could see her casually strolling and left his house, mounted his horse, and rode to her carrying a flower he had picked. “Good morning, Moheeni,” he politely said as he pulled up next to her. Trying her best to be cool to him, she answered, “Hello.” “You are even prettier early in the morning,” he said smiling. 202
Sighing impatiently and looking around, she kept walking, knowing it was too early for anyone to see them together. “Please, stop it. I don’t want or deserve your compliments. You are just destroying yourself, and you’ll make me feel guilty. The more you love me, the more you’ll destroy yourself,” she said tersely. “I can’t help it. I feel like a moth that flies into the light trying to reach the source, constantly beating itself against it until, at last, it falls to the ground, exhausted. Maybe it will mean my death, but in any case, this is my life, don’t worry about it,” he said, dismounting and walking beside her. As they walked a few yards, he placed the rose he had picked behind her ear. “Please don’t. You can get any girl you want. I beg you, please stop,” she pleaded. At her words, he remained still in the road as she continued walking. Noticing he stopped, she turned to see if he was following or not. He returned her gaze and slowly got on his horse and rode back to his farm. She watched him ride away, now shaking and confused. Four days had gone by, and Moheeni was now totally confused. Her confidence in how to handle Dilawar was gone. He changed, and she had no idea about how to deal with this new person. She fretted of how to get rid of him, but couldn’t come up with an answer. She wouldn’t take her morning walks or go out at all now; she feared meeting up with him again. She thought of herself—she, who had given rousing speeches in front of hundreds of people, she who was the head of the Women’s Union at school, and now, she was being overpowered by the gentleness of a man. Sighing and becoming disgusted with herself for cowering in her house, she rode on her horse, Majestic, rather than running him on the country road. Sunset rays were falling on her face as she resolved not to be afraid of him. 203
After just a few hundred yards on the road, she saw a tractor coming at her. Stuttering in her steps, she recognized it to be Dilawar. Her first impulse was to run back to her house, but her pride made her hold her head up stiffly, and she continued riding straight ahead. The tractor nearing her, he cut the engine and hopped off the seat. “Hello, Moheeni,” he said. “Hello, Dilawar,” she said, stopping the horse on the side of the road. “I’ve been carrying this around with me the last four days in case I met you. Here, I want you to have it,” he said, handing her a little box. “I can’t take it,” she said, pulling her hands back as if the box were diseased. “Please, Moheeni? Please accept it as a token of our friendship,” he said sincerely, holding it forward. Not saying anything but not retreating any further, he jumped from the tractor. He came closer to her and opened the little box. He pulled out a delicate gold chain with a small sparkling diamond around it. Catching her breath, she slowly shook her head. “Oh no, Dilawar, I can’t accept that it’s too costly!” she said. “Please? I want to give it to you; I ask nothing in return; it will give me great satisfaction if you would accept it, just from one decent human being to another, that is all,” he said. Looking into his eyes and seeing that he had no strings attached to his gift and that he was sincere in what he was saying, she relented, saying, “I’ll accept it on one condition.” “Anything,” he said. “From now on, no more flowers or gifts. Okay?” she said firmly. Smiling warmly, he said, “Anything you wish.” Carefully withdrawing the necklace from the box, he held it up, letting it dangle in the air as the sun caught its rays in the diamond. 204
“Please, get off from the horse for a moment and let me put it on for you,”he said. Looking about her, she hid in the cotton, still fearful that she would be seen. Following her, he lifted the shimmering chain over her head and let it rest on her long slender neck. As he fastened the lock on the back, his fingers gently touched her, sending shivers up her spine and making her dizzy. His task completed, he turned to face her, and smiling, left without a word. She turned the horse back to her farmhouse and went up to her room where she remained the rest of the evening. She took off the necklace in fear of Jaswant seeing it, but before putting it in the little box, she held the little diamond, looking at it and wondering what was happening to her. Her feelings of Dilawar had completely changed. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to act toward him now. She sat looking moodily out her window as the sun set, and the stars came out. Not wanting to even eat, she just stared out into the night confused. Around midnight, she heard a soft tapping on her bedroom door. She froze for an instant, and a panicking fear rushed through her body. Stepping closer to the door, she put her hand and face to the side of the door and whispered, “Who is it?” An impatient voice came from the other side. “Do I have to tell you who it is?” It was Jaswant. Exhaling with relief, she opened the door wide and hugged him. “What’s wrong with you? Who on earth did you think it was?” he asked her. “Oh, Jaswant, I’m sorry I’ve been on edge lately. I feel like a cold wind has rushed through me and upset everything,” she said, burying her face in his shoulder. Seeing that she was clearly shaken, he took her face in his hands tenderly and asked, “What’s wrong?” 205
“Jaswant, I’ve been having bad dreams lately, sometimes in the early morning and sometimes in the afternoon. In these dreams, a young man from the cotton fields comes to me. He is cruel, but as he comes closer to me, I see his face, and I see that he is not cruel after all, but good and kind. When I ignore him, he comes closer, and when I tell him to go away, he puts flowers behind my ear. One day, he came in my dream and put a necklace around my neck,” she said frightened. “What happened next?” he asked. “He disappeared,” she said. Holding her tighter, he gently rocked her. “Don’t worry it’s just a dream. Dreams aren’t real.” “But, Jaswant these dreams are not to be so easily dismissed, they are real to me. I’m scared. I feel the only way to make these dreams stop is for you to marry me and take me in your home,” she pleaded. “What about Kishan? Don’t you want to talk with him first?” he asked. “Oh, there is no need for me to have to ask his permission. Besides, he is hardly ever here, and it may be two or three months before he comes back, and by then - by then it may be too late,” she said, her angry voice trailing off into a whimper. Looking up at him, she kissed his lips softly and said, “Jaswant, remember that day in the Golden Temple? I had asked God that we be together, and He has let it be so. From that moment on, I have considered you as my husband. The vows taken in a ceremony are a mere social formality. I know you love me. Love me now, as your wife.” Not sure of why she seemed so emotional, he gathered her in his arms and laid her on the bed, undoing the buttons of her blouse. She kissed him passionately, but it was a passion of needing different from his. 206
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