RAGNI VOL 1 eBOOK

There was a stunned silence in the audience even after the curtain fell. Suddenly, like a thunderstorm, the applause started, one or two clapping at first and then an onslaught of wild clapping and cheering. Never had they seen such a performance. Parents all around her raved about the magnitude of the young girl’s acting, but Sukhi knew there was something wrong. She clapped slowly, but her mother’s intuition was telling her Ragni was in trouble. The play should not have ended at that point. She knew Ragni was not acting in those last moments. In a trance, she rose to make her way to the backstage area. As she rose, more of the parents in the audience also stood, giving a standing ovation. The rest of the auditorium came to their feet in sync, clapping and cheering. By now, Sukhi was running for backstage. When she reached the backstage area, she found the drama coach shouting instructions to the worried assistants and students while cradling the girl’s head in her arms. Sukhi rushed to the stage. “What happened? Is she all right?” she asked the director frantically. “She has passed out. I’ve called an ambulance. Help me move her off stage,” she replied. The two women and more assistants helped carry Ragni to one of the wings of the stage. She was twitching and emitting guttural sounds from her throat. Sweat poured from her whole body, and her head shook back and forth. The school physician arrived and placed a cold towel on her forehead and waved smelling salts under her nose, but nothing seemed to bring her to consciousness. Mrs. Parmar, the principal, came backstage to see what was going on. Assessing the situation, she went out on stage to announce that due to a sudden illness, the second half of the play would have to be canceled and that the awards ceremony would commence shortly. There was a stirring in the audience at this announcement, which grew louder at the sound of an ambulance siren outside the auditorium. 51

CHAPTER 5 I t was a little stuffy in the car. Whenever it rained, the car always smelled a little musty and oily inside. It didn’t help that the narrow two-lane road from Sanawar to Amritsar was so winding. It would take a good five or six hours of driving to get home. “Mother, may I open the window a bit?” Ragni asked her mother, who was sitting beside her in the backseat of the chauffeur-driven car. Sukhi, still worried about her daughter’s fragile state of health, replied, “Of course, dear. Would you like to stop and get some fresh air outside? Are you hungry at all?” “No, mother, I think a little fresh air will be enough.” Green hills covered with thick layers of wet clouds floating over the peaks. Heavy wind was blowing with drizzling rain. The window of the car was closed. Ragni closed her eyes; she was having some very peaceful deep thoughts. “God loves you; here is a message for you.” A voice came to her and she immediately knew that it was an angel. “Do you talk with God?” she asked the angel. A bright white light entered the rear of the car and moved around. Her mother was deeply involved in managing the turns and twists of the hilly road. “Yes, as a matter of fact, just a few moments ago. Here is the message from God for the people, through you.” 52

“Why me?” “You are a pure soul; it is easy to communicate through you; there are very few souls in the world like you. We are always in search of souls like you in different parts of the Universe.” “Please tell me the message,” Ragni said with her eyes closed. “Here is the message: Absolute power demands absolutely nothing. God is everything, and God becomes everything; there is nothing which God is not. All God experiences of itself, God experiences through humans. God says, ‘In my purest form, I am the absolute. I am absolutely everything, and therefore, I need, want, and demand nothing. From this absolutely pure form, I am what you make me. It is as if you were finally to see God and say, ‘well, what do you make of that?’ Yet, no matter what you make of me, I cannot forget and will always return to my purest form—all the rest is fiction. It is something you are making up. There are those whom would make me a jealous God. But who could cause me to be angry when I can not be hurt or demand in anyway? There are those who would make me an angry God, but what would anger me when I cannot be hurt in any way. There are those who would make me a vengeful God, but on whom would I take revenge? All that exists is me. Why would I punish myself for simply creating? If you must think of us as separate, why would I create you, give you the power to create, give you the freedom of choice to create what you wish to experience, and then punish you forever for making the ‘Wrong’ choice?” “I tell you this: I would not do such a thing and in that truth lays your freedom from the tyranny of God. In truth, there is no tyranny except in your imagination. I give you free choice. Every human is the product of their choices. Every choice creates Karma.” There was silence, and then the voice started again, “You may come home whenever you wish. We can be together again whenever you wish. You will have me with you when you feel the wind on your face, when you listen to the crickets in the silence of the night, and when you look up at the diamond 53

skies on a summer evening. At the first sight of a rainbow and the first cry of the newborn baby, I will be there. At the last ray of a beautiful sunset and the last breath of your life, I will be there. I am with you always, even until the end of time. Your union with me is complete; it always was, it always is, and always will be. You and I are one, both now and forever. She opened her eyes and watched as a bright light moved off toward the hills and merged with the sun and the Universe. Ragni’s heart was full of love and peace, and she had tears in her eyes. She felt like she was melting into nature’s love. The car was now on flat land. Ragni remembered every word the angel just said. Cracking the window and allowing a gust of the moist, chilly air to rush in, Ragni raised her head so she could breathe deeply. She could hear the sizzling noises the tires made as they cut across the wet road. When she opened the window, it was as if the grayness of the winter sky entered the warm, airless interior. She felt connected to the passing landscape and the earthy smell of the yellowed grass on the hills mixed with the fresh wetness. She remembered nothing of the night before—passing out during the middle of the play. It was a strange feeling, being whisked away from her school to go home for medical tests when she herself had no memory of anything having gone wrong. It was like being driven by her chauffeur in this car—she was going somewhere but was somehow powerless to control her destiny. They pulled into the compound shortly after six in the evening. The guard cordially waved them through the gates, and, as they drew up to the house, it seemed different. It was always good to return home, the familiar feeling like slipping into a pair of worn, comfortable sneakers. But today, that emotion seemed to be missing. Though everything was still familiar, it didn’t seem to fit her any longer. 54

Hearing the car roll to a stop, Mohinder stepped out onto the front porch to greet them. “Ragni! What an unexpected surprise! Come give your father a hug!”he opened his arms, and she ran up the walkway, jumped onto the porch, and embraced him. “So, how is the star of Sanawar school?” he asked, laughing and squeezing her lovingly. “Oh, Father, don’t embarrass me so!” she demured. “Sukhi! You didn’t tell me you would be bringing Ragni home with you!” he joked to his wife. She was following the pathway to the house and tried to force a smile in response to his chiding, but he sensed immediately that something was wrong. He sensed it had to do with Ragni, and, from his training as a police inspector general, knew patience would be the best reaction. Until Ragni and Sukhi were ready to reveal what was wrong, he would uphold the happy mood of having the family together. Sukhi went into the kicthen where the chef was busy preparing dinner. “Madam, do you want me to cook something special due to having Ragni home?” “No, but it should be medium spicy, otherwise everything looks okay, thanks for asking,” she said and walked out of the kitchen and directly to the washroom to freshen up from the stressful journey. The dinner conversation centered lightly on Ragni’s classes and her interests in school. By the time desert was finished, Ragni was exhausted and excused herself to retire for the night. When they were finally alone, Mohinder discreetly asked his wife, “I was surprised to see Ragni home with you. Is there something wrong?” “Yes, my dear. I knew you saw the worry on my face earlier this afternoon. Thank you for being diplomatic and not asking why Ragni decided to come 55

home. She’s confused enough as it is,” Sukhi told him. Then, delicately placing her teacup on the saucer, she took a deep breath and unfolded the whole story of Ragni’s fainting during the play. Mohinder listened calmly and quietly, and then spoke up after mulling it over for a moment. “Our friend Jagir Singh Pelia is the chief medical officer at Victoria Hospital. I will phone him first thing tomorrow morning and have him arrange tests for Ragni. He’ll give her the best possible care.” “Madam, I would like you to meet Dr. Das Gupta, one of the psychiatrists on our hospital board,” Dr. Pelia said, ushering in the new physician. Continuing as Dr. Gupta shook hands with Sukhi, Dr. Pelia said, “Ragni is resting now, and the major part of the testing has been completed. So far, after three days, we can find nothing out of order. Ragni says she doesn’t suffer from head- aches, and there seem to be no signs of a tumor. We looked into the possibility of epilepsy, but again, nothing points in that direction. We have been unable to come to any physical causes, which is why I have called in Dr. Gupta. Perhaps you can help by answering some questions for him?” “Yes, of course. Anything that will assist you,” she said. Dr. Gupta smiled benignly. His brown, smoothly shaven face and soft features reflected easiness, and Sukhi was comfortable talking with him. He seemed sincere as he began to ask questions about Ragni. “Mrs. Kaur, can you recall if Ragni has ever suffered similar fainting spells?” Sukhi looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember. “Well, I guess I never put the two together, but she did have a spell once when she was about five years old. She was visiting her aunt on a farm in the country, about fifty miles from here. Something happened while they were playing with a toy airplane in the yard, and she fainted for no apparent reason. 56

A doctor examined her and gave her a sedative, but he said she had just become a little overly excited and had hyperventilated. Later that same day, she jumped up from where she had been resting in bed, ran out of the house, broke the toy plane, and fainted again. But the next morning, she was fine; it was as if nothing happened. When my sister-in-law told me this story, I was alarmed, but after watching Ragni carefully when she returned home, nothing seemed to be amiss, and I passed the incident off as one of those isolated things that happen along with the scraped knees and other minor childhood injuries.” Sukhi stared off thoughtfully. Dr. Gupta sat back in his chair, his legs crossed, with one hand to his chin, listening. Dr. Pelia shot a quick glance his way, but when he saw the psychiatrist unmoved, he took his cue and remained silent, waiting for Sukhi to continue. A few moments later, she fixed her gaze on Dr. Gupta and continued. Dr. Gupta spoke for the first time, “Madam, was that the last time she had a fainting spell like this?” Sukhi thought carefully, her brow furrowed. “Yes, those two times, plus at the play, of course. And the first time, I was not there to see it,” she said. Dr. Gupta folded his hands and leaned back farther into his chair, his own forehead crinkled in thought. “Strange…can you think of any other incidents that seemed a little strange to you—anything vaguely related to the things that you have just described to me?” he said. There was a longer silence while Sukhi thought. Shaking her head, she said, “No, no, I can’t think of anything—wait. Wait. I don’t know if this has anything to do with what we are talking about, it’s so strange and unrelated, but it’s the only thing I can think of that’s out of the ordinary in relation to Ragni.” 57

“Please go on, Mrs. Kaur,” Dr. Gupta said, sitting up in his chair, clearly perked up by the possibility of another clue. Instinctively, Dr. Pelia straightened himself in his chair, too, paying more attention to an otherwise baffling set of circumstances. “The three of us were on holiday—my husband, Ragni, and me. We decided to take a historical tour of Rajasthan to see the old palaces in Jaipur-- this must have been when Ragni was about nine years old. “One night, during the end of one week vacation, we were touring our last city Jaipur, and we had just put Ragni to bed. We were going to take a late evening stroll, just my husband, me, and the security guards. We left at about ten in the evening and had been gone longer than we thought we would be. It had been more than an hour before we returned to the hotel. I went to Ragni’s room to talk to her and kiss her goodnight, just like I did every night. But when I got to her room, she was gone. I searched our hotel suite but couldn’t find her anywhere. Mohinder and I looked through the rest of the hotel’s lobbies and public rooms, but she was not there. We put the hotel management on alert, but none of us could turn up any sign of her. At that point, my husband called in the police. We feared she had been kidnapped as there is always a distinct possibility someone could use Ragni as leverage against my husband since he is a police chief. “Upon hearing it was an IGP’s (Inspector General of Police) daughter that was missing, a full alert went out, and one of the department chiefs of the city along with other police officers drove us around the area to look for Ragni.” “At about two o’clock in the morning, a radio call came that she had been found unharmed in one of the castle ruins about two hundred yards from the hotel across the road. We received the details from one of the police officers and raced there within a few minutes. It was a frightful place—absolutely no lights anywhere. It was a ruined castle that had been abandoned for centuries. It was overgrown with thick trees and tall weeds like a jungle, and we could hear monkeys chattering nervously in the branches overhead like they were angry their sleep had been disturbed. The walls of the castle had crumbled long ago, and there were broken pieces of statues scattered about.” 58

“One of the officers told us that the reason they came here was that the monkeys and other animals were making a lot of noise. They could hear it a few hundred yards from the service road. ‘We heard a great disturbance caused by the monkeys,’ he said. There was such a commotion when they pulled in that they started searching the area with their flashlights and guns drawn. They were about to leave when one of them spotted her sleeping on one of the stone slabs among the tall grass. As they approached her, they said that she was crying in her sleep and muttering something they couldn’t understand. When they woke her up, she stopped crying and looked disoriented. Gradually, she came to her senses.” “The police brought her to the police station and tried to find out how she ended up in the thickly wooded castle ruins. They were trying to find out if someone kidnapped her and brought her there. She said that she didn’t know. They could only conclude that she had walked there in her sleep due to her lack of memory, but I informed them that she had never done that before. It was a big mystery.” Dr. Gupta stroked his chin while staring at the ground, trying to put the pieces together. “How do you feel this relates to the rest of the incidents you have described? Do you think they fit together? he finally asked. Sukhi moved up on the edge of her chair, her back erect as if she had just realized something that she hadn’t before. “It has just come to me now! While I was holding Ragni backstage after she fainted, she was muttering something incomprehensible—they were guttural sounds, and I tried to make out what she was saying but didn’t understand anything. There was one word she kept repeating, and now that I think about it, it sounds like the same word that the officer who found her in the ruins told us he heard her saying. It was something that sounded like goonder.” After another silence, Dr. Gupta asked, “Is there anything else?” Sukhi shook her head. “No …that is all I can remember.” 59

Dr. Gupta then turned to Dr. Pelia and said, “I think that’s all the information I need for now. Ragni can be released as far as I am concerned.” Dr. Pelia nodded, then addressed both Sukhi and Dr. Gupta, “Good. Then Ragni may go home with you this afternoon. Why don’t you go to her room and help gather her things?” “Thank you both for all of your help,” Sukhi said, rising from her chair. As they moved toward the door to go out of the conference room, Dr. Gupta paused for a moment. “Mrs. Kaur, there is one other thing you can do to assist us. Ragni seems to have taken all the testing in good stride, but just to make sure, would you mind keeping her home for another week and allowing her to rest before taking her back to school?” “Yes, of course, Dr. Gupta,” Sukhi replied, a bit perplexed. Narrowing his eyes slightly, Dr. Gupta said thoughtfully, “If by any chance Ragni has another fainting spell, please call an ambulance and have her rushed to me. I don’t think you need to be terribly worried, but I would be interested in hearing what she is saying during one of these spells.” “Yes, of course, Doctor,” a concerned Sukhi promised. At least tomorrow I will be able to go back to school—the past week has been painfully boring, having to stay around the house all day and night with nothing to do, Ragni thought to herself as she rested on the porch with her sketch- pad on her lap. She was drawing the pond out front, where a family of ducks paddled among the lily pads, dunking underwater every now and then in an attempt to grab a fish. It was late afternoon, and the crickets and frogs started their blanket of rich songs echoing through the compound. 60

Putting the charcoal and pad aside, she entered the house. “Mother, are you here?” she called out. Sukhi, who was reading in one of the back rooms, replied, “Yes, dear, in the back.” “Mother, there is nothing to do. I am getting restless. There are no interesting programs on the television, and tomorrow I would like to go back to school.” She waited for her mother to reply. “Do you think we could go into town for a movie? A little trip into town might do a little good.” Sukhi put her book down on her lap and thought for a moment. “Sure. What’s playing?” she asked her mother. Ragni perked up instantly. “Oh, it doesn’t matter to me—anything would be fine. I just need to go somewhere—anywhere!” Sukhi had the chauffeur drop them off so they could walk around downtown and look for a movie. As they passed one of the theatres, Ragni stared up at the marquis as if in a trance. “Mother, this one …let’s go see this one,” she said. Sukhi looked at the garish advertisements for the movie they were featuring. “Ragni, are you sure you want to see this movie? It’s a war movie. You know how sensitive to violence and the suffering of others you are,” she told her, clearly confused as to why Ragni would be interested in seeing this film. “Yes, this is the one. It doesn’t matter to me what’s playing. I just want to see any movie. Anyhow, it’s not real—it’s just a movie,” Ragni convinced her. Shrugging her shoulders, Sukhi bought two tickets for the show and went in with her daughter. “Popcorn, dear?” she asked. “Oh yes! And a soft drink too?” Ragni asked, her eyebrows raised hopefully. 61

“Why not—I won’t see you for a while after today. I should take this opportunity to spoil you while I have the chance!” her mother joked. The movie was about the Second World War and the sustained strategic bombing of Britain by Nazi Germany between the 7th of September 1940 and 10th of May 1941. Hitler bombed the city of London for 76 consecutive nights, and many towns and cities across the country followed. More than one million London houses were destroyed or damaged, and more than 40,000 civilians were killed, half of them in London. Other important military and industrial centers such as Glasgow, Belfast, Birmingham, Bristol, Cardiff, Coventry, Liverpool, Manchester, Portsmouth, Plymouth, and Southampton, Swansea, also suffered heavy air attacks and high numbers of casualties. Bootle and Hull were the most badly damaged cities after London, with a significant percentage of their buildings destroyed or made uninhabitable. Birmingham and Coventry were heavily targeted due to the Spitfire and tank factories in Birmingham and the many munitions factories in Coventry. Both cities were badly damaged, and the city center of Coventry was destroyed. Cite the source if there is one, here) On the screen, a bomber caught fire and crashed into a farm outside of London. Suddenly, Ragni screamed, “Mom.” She collapsed back into her seat, then perched back onto the edge of the chair, mechanically munching her popcorn. As the movie neared the climax, Sukhi’s own heart was thundering in her chest. She started paying closer attention to Ragni, wondering if it may have been a mistake to bring her to such a violent movie. As the noise and confusion of the movie reached a crescendo, she noticed Ragni had stopped eating her popcorn—she seemed frozen on the edge of her seat. “Ragni, are you all right, dear? It’s only a movie, only a—” but when she touched her daughter’s arm, Ragni suddenly dropped the bag of popcorn and soft drink to the floor. She lunged slightly forward and then, like a tree being felled, came crashing forward, hitting her head on the seat in front of her, and crumbling to the floor on top of the soft drink and popcorn. 62

“Ragni! Ragni! Oh, God! Help me! Somebody help me!” Sukhi cried out, trying to be heard over the deafening noise of the movie. Unable to lift Ragni by herself, she rushed up the darkened aisle and frantically yelled for the manager to call an ambulance. After almost two hours of pacing the waiting room, Dr. Gupta came out to talk with Sukhi. “Ragni is fine. She’s resting quietly. I was, however, able to record what she was saying in her unconscious state. Would you like to hear it?” he asked with a look of concern on his face. “Yes, of course,” she replied, still visibly shaken. On the way back to his office, Dr. Gupta explained, “It sounds as if Ragni was speaking in another language. I have summoned a doctor who is fluent in several languages; he came on special assignment from England. He is with the department of psychiatry, Doctor Erwin Smith— I will set up an appointment with him this evening and discuss this in detail. Another doctor was waiting for them. “Dr. Smith, this is Mrs. Kaur, the mother of the patient I was talking to you about.” “Yes, I hope I can be of assistance to you,” he greeted her as they went into Dr. Gupta’s office. He pushed the button of the cassette tape recorder and Ragni’s voice sputtered out an unfamiliar language. Sukhi’s face flushed, and her breathing became more rapid. “Yes, that is the strange language she was using when I held her backstage after she fainted during her school play.” 63

“May I hear it again, Dr. Gupta?” Dr. Smith asked. Rewinding it, the old doctor put his ear closer to the recorder. When it was over, he looked up at the two and said, “It is German. She is speaking German. Please run the tape back again, and I will translate it for you as she speaks.” As the tape played the guttural message once again, the doctor translated word by word what Ragni had been saying. Dr. Smith scratched his chin and asked, “Gunter…Gunter. That is a man’s name. Who is Gunter?” “Mrs. Kaur, do you believe in reincarnation?” “Yes, I do, but why are you asking this question?” she asked, surprised. “It seems that your daughter has deep pain from her past lives and possibly the most recent one. She is a very sensitive soul; when something triggers her memories, she cannot resist and seems to immediately go into her past life trauma. She might have some foggy picture of it, but that is not clear yet. Mrs. Kaur, you should not worry. It is not a physical disease; someday, she may get over it, perhaps as soon as this mystery is solved. When? One never knows for sure. It is probably just a matter of time,” he said while moving his fingers through his blonde beard. 64

CHAPTER 6 R agni spent one week of February in the hospital undergoing tests, but all to no avail. She remembered nothing of what she said while unconscious, and questions as to who Gunter was were futile as well. If she missed any more classes, it would be difficult for her to catch up, so a decision was made to let her go back to school. All her classmates were glad to see her again and treated her with what she felt was a little more warmth, or perhaps she had never before been aware of their friendship. Despite their attention, she found herself wanting to be alone in nature more and more and ended up spending most of her spare time wandering in the forest on the school grounds. The primitive ritual of new growth that came each spring renewed the memories of days spent with Kanwar. It was as if being alone in nature with its floral fragrances and budding greenery allowed her to at least be with his essence if she couldn’t be with him physically. It was April now—annual exam time, and amidst all the bustling and cramming for tests, she would hardly be missed. For that, she was thankful for the tests. Though she was taking a heavy course load, it all seemed so embarrassingly easy. Her favorite classes were the arts, painting, and music. The other academic classes: science, math, Punjabi, English, and history, were easy, but she never liked political science. Still, she was able to maintain a straight-A grade point average, fairly breezing through the exams. 65

When final exams were through, students, with grades in hand, prepared to go back home for the two-month summer vacation. A general sigh of relief could be felt throughout the school as the students began packing their belongings. Ragni’s chauffeur wouldn’t come for her until most of the other students had already left. Within a few days, the grounds were deserted, with the exception of Ragni and a few other students. Her things were packed in boxes and suit- cases, and there was nothing left for her to do but wait for her ride back home. As she looked out her window to the empty grounds and the wooded areas beyond, her thoughts drifted to Sanawar. High above, a single swallow glided over her building and flew toward the woods, eventually disappearing over the treetops. “It will not be long. If I could fly like that bird, I could be over your farm, over your home. I could land on your window-sill and see you sleeping in your room,” she whispered, staring wistfully to the northwest. Her solitary imaginings were broken by the footsteps of someone coming down her hallway. As they neared her door, her visions of flying to Kanwar withdrew deeper into herself, like a night phantom hiding in the privacy of the dark, stealing away from the sun as it breaks up the sky with a new day. A knock on her door and she was no longer the swallow, but Ragni, the student in her room, packed and ready to go home tomorrow. “Come in,” she responded to the soft rapping on her door. “Good morning, Ragni. I was going through the hallways and rooms to see if there was anyone still left, and you were the only one in the dorm.” It was Mrs. Parmar, the principal. “Good morning, Mrs. Parmar. How are you today?” Ragni said politely but formally. “I am fine, and yourself? Ready to go home?” she asked. “Yes, ma’am. I’m fine and all packed up. My ride will be taking me home tomorrow,” Ragni replied. 68

“Ragni, since this is your last night until the fall, I was wondering if you would care to join me for dinner in the mess hall tonight,” Mrs. Parmar asked. Ragni looked slightly puzzled. Sensing this, Mrs. Parmar added quickly, “Oh, it’s not about anything that you’ve done wrong. I just want to see you one more time before you leave, that’s all …more on a personal level, rather than a school principal and one of her students.” Ragni, still unsure, smiled a little and agreed. That evening there were only a couple of students and teachers in the cafeteria, a far cry from the hundreds that usually filled its Formica-topped square tables. The emptiness seemed to accentuate Mrs. Parmar and Ragni, meeting as two individuals rather than as student and teacher. Mrs. Parmar was dressed casually, and Ragni, since her school uniform of navy skirt and white blouse was packed, had on a worn pair of jeans and her favorite pink shirt. It was the first time she could remember the two of them dressed this way, facing each other. “What will you do once you have returned home, Ragni?” Mrs. Parmar asked as she started in on her dinner. Ragni looked at the principal as she shuffled her dinner around on her plate with her fork. She wasn’t very hungry. For the first time, it seemed, she noticed the principal’s face. It was a kind face, softer than she had thought. She was so used to seeing a position instead of a person; it surprised her to see a very warm, caring individual beyond the steady smile. She saw a sensitive person, one who had a life outside of the school, one who had experienced many parts of life that she hoped one day she would experience too. She saw vulnerability behind the smile that inspired such strength and confidence in her students. For the first time, Ragni felt that she could talk to this person, now that she had seen her as a woman like herself, and not be judged or looked upon as just a young girl. “When I return home, I would like to visit my aunt in Bhatian,” she said. Mrs. Parmar remained silent as if she were allowing Ragni to finish saying 69

whatever she wanted to say. Ragni continued, “I love my parents and do enjoy being at home, but Bhatian is where Kanwar lives. When I visit my aunt, I am able to be with him,” she said, searching Mrs. Parmar’s face for a reaction. When Mrs. Parmar didn’t seem alarmed, Ragni relaxed a little more and even started nibbling on her dinner. “Mrs. Parmar,” Ragni said after eating a few bites. “Yes, Ragni?” Mrs. Parmar answered. “You were married once, weren’t you?” Ragni asked timidly. It was the first time she had ever asked a personal question of her principal, but somehow it felt appropriate to do so. Mrs. Parmar kept eating but hesitated just for the briefest moment, the girl’s question catching her off guard. “Yes, Ragni. I was very happily married.” Placing her hand on the table and looking out the large picture window of the mess hall, she stared out into the past. “My husband and I married very young. We were deeply in love.” After a pause, she continued, “He died some years ago, but the years we had together were …special,” she explained. Then, looking at Ragni, she realized that a bit of her vulnerability was showing and wondered if she had revealed too much of herself. But Ragni had only admiration and love for this woman now. “What was it like, being in love?” she asked the older woman. Mrs. Parmar put her fork down on her plate and held her hands together in deeper thought. On the one hand, she considered giving Ragni an answer that would be considered appropriate for a school principal to share with a student. On the other hand, the side of her that was a woman and not a role model felt compelled to share with Ragni what was in her heart, woman to woman. “It is like you know what is in the other person’s heart—you know what is there, and you give to them of yourself without thought of yourself. You give to them because you know you can trust them, and they will not abuse your love. 70

It is a feeling in your heart that is pure, but more than just feeling…it… it is as if you are in separate bodies but are of one being, and you both give what- ever you are able to this one being to allow it to live and grow. And once you are able to do this—once you have experienced this, you will never again be the same, for you will learn to live your entire life in this way.” The two were looking intensely into each others eyes now, the young woman, about to enter a new door of life, and the older woman, giving her guidance as purely as she could from her experience of having been on the other side of that same door. “Oh, father! School is so easy; at times, I feel I have not earned these grades,” Ragni said, as her father proudly raved over the straight A’s on her report card. “Nonsense, Ragni! You have always been a brilliant student. Whether or not they have come easy to you, I am still proud of you!” he praised her. Her life at school seemed pale in comparison to the feelings that longed to express themselves for Kanwar. Now that she was home, these familiar surroundings were no different than school. It all seemed so secondary, so trivial, like the report card her parents made such a fuss over. Though she had been home only a couple of days, she found herself taking walks on the compound grounds, but they were not satisfying. She was taking steps but not going where she wanted to go. The same loneliness that haunted her in the woods at school had followed her home. At the dinner table, her thoughts wandered far away as well. “Ragni, are you feeling well?” Sukhi asked her daughter. “Yes, Mother, why do you ask?” 71

“You have hardly eaten anything since you’ve been back. Don’t you like what we’ve been having?” her worried mother asked. “Yes, the food is fine,” she quietly responded. “Then what is it, my dear?” her mother pressed. There was a pause, and Ragni stuttered, but she couldn’t get the words out. Her father broke in, “Ragni, if there’s something we can do, please tell us. We only want you to be happy,” he assured her. Ragni looked down at her plate and thought for a few seconds. Then, inhaling deeply, she finally spit out, “I…I miss the country. Would you allow me to visit Aunt Rajinder?” Mohinder and Sukhi looked at each other in dismay, unable to say anything for a moment. This didn’t make any sense to them at all. “But, you have just come home. Don’t you want to stay here with us for at least a little while?” her father said, his feelings obviously more than a little bruised. Ragni glanced quickly at her father, then at her mother. “Oh, father! I don’t mean to say that I am unhappy here. I love being with you! It’s so very good to be back home …but …I can’t explain it. If I could be in the country, for just a little while …” “We could take a drive in the country this weekend if you want,” her father suggested, trying to find some way to appease his moody daughter. Ragni’s eyes returned to her plate, and she sat in silence. Mohinder looked helplessly at his wife. Sukhi spoke up, “Ragni, if this is what you really want, your father and I will discuss the matter later. In the meantime, please try and eat something.” With this faint glimmer of hope, Ragni slowly picked up her fork and started picking at her food. 72

After dinner, Ragni went up to her room and began sketching a little. She was so engrossed in her drawing; she hardly realized her mother had ascended the stairs and was knocking on her door. “May I come in, Ragni?” her mother asked. “Yes, of course, Mother,” she answered, setting her pencil on her pad. “Father and I have agreed to let you visit Aunt Rajinder for a few days.” Even as she gave Ragni the news, Ragni’s eyes widened as if to let the light within her shine through. Her mother continued, “He has called her and made arrangements for the chauffeur to take you there tomorrow morning. We have to re-pack some of your things—and you have barely unpacked from school,” she said, but all Ragni heard was that she was going to Bhatian—to Kanwar. The next morning couldn’t arrive fast enough, and when it did endless delays dragged out her departure. First there was breakfast, then the chauffeur had to put gas in the car and have the tires checked. Her mother wanted to make sure she had remembered to pack everything she needed. It wasn’t until noon that they finally loaded the car and left the compound. With every mile that passed to Bhatian, Ragni’s anticipation grew, starting with a tingling in her spine, then reaching outward to her fingertips. In a little less than two hours, they were in the outer farms of Bhatian, driving the roads that cut through the white-topped cotton fields and intermittently through the wavering stalks of wheat. The country roads were narrow and obviously less used. The mango and palm trees clustered around the farmhouses, and every once in a while, they passed a rumbling tractor in the fields or a camel pulling a wagon to market. The car pulled off the main road and onto the small dirt road that led to Aunt Rajinder’s house. Hearing the car on her driveway, Ragni’s aunt came out on the porch to greet her niece. 73

“Ragni! How good to see you again. How can it be that you have grown so much since the last time we saw you?” she said, surprised. It hadn’t been hat long since Ragni visited, but in that short time, her body had changed from a child’s to that of a young woman. She was taller, perhaps five and a half feet, and had grown into the curves that marked the strong line between childhood and womanhood. Her face had changed, the pudginess turning into softness and her eyes emitting a radiant depth that somehow reflected worldliness beyond her years. “It’s so good seeing you again, Auntie!” Ragni said as she hugged her. “Come in, come in. Make yourself at home!” Rajinder said, grasping her hand and leading her into the house. Rajinder tried not to show her dismay at this new person with her niece’s name and identity. Even her voice was different—still youthful, but now there was a fullness to it as if the lower registers had found their timbre. After the chauffeur had brought her things in the house and left, and she got a little more settled, the conversation moved to the affairs of the farm and the area. “How is Kanwar?” she asked finally, trying not to sound too anxious. Her aunt knew she was dying to see him again. “Kanwar has grown so. He’s sixteen now, almost a full-grown man—and so handsome!” she told Ragni. “Yes …” Ragni encouraged her aunt. “He is the star of his school’s field hockey team. In fact, he should be finishing his practice soon,” her voice trailed off suddenly. A slight look of concern came over her face. After a pause in the conversation, Rajinder spoke up. “Ragni …if you like, I can have Smitti fetch Kanwar, but I think we should talk first,” she said, the words not coming to her easily. 74

“Yes, Auntie?” Ragni said, her concern growing too. The aunt continued, measuring her words carefully. “Ragni, when you used to come here, and Kanwar would visit, things were different. You were both so young, just children. But in the past year, you have both changed so, you have grown, and you are no longer children but young adults. You used to play together for long hours in your room, and perhaps it is just me, but I cannot let you alone for so long in your room together anymore. Do you understand what I am trying to tell you, dear?” She was plainly uncomfortable with what she had to say. “I think I understand,” Ragni replied quietly. She now silently cursed her body for growing so fast. It was her body that was now betraying her feelings for Kanwar. She had felt strongly for him all these years and no one seemed to care one way or the other. Now that her body was growing, it was causing others to take notice of her every action. She wondered how Kanwar would be affected by the changes occurring in her. “Smitti, would you please go and tell Kanwar that I have a surprise for him here?” Rajinder asked the housemaid. “Yes, ma’am, and she was off. At the farm, Kanwar had finished his field hockey practice and was herding the cattle into the shed when Smitti arrived. “Hello, Kanwar. Rajinder has asked that you come to our house. She has a surprise for you,” Smitti told him. “Oh! What kind of surprise?” he asked. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you!” she laughed. “Hmm,” Kanwar thought for a minute. “Is it the kind of surprise I would want to clean up for a little before going over there?” he asked. “You may wish to,” Smitti said, subduing a smirk. By now, Kanwar had a pretty good idea of what was waiting for him. 75

When he arrived, Rajinder met him at the door. “Hello, Kanwar. My surprise is upstairs. Why don’t you go on up and see for yourself,” she said, smiling. His heart started to pound a little stronger as he bounded up the stairs and saw Ragni’s door ajar. A voice called out from it, asking, “Kanwar, is that you?” Swinging the door open and entering, Kanwar saw Ragni standing in the sunlight from the window. Half out of breath from climbing the stairs, he studied her. Could this be the same Ragni he knew from before? He knew her, but at the same time, he felt unfamiliar with her. Ragni’s breathing quickened too, but for different reasons than climbing stairs. She hardly recognized Kanwar. Struggling for words, all she could manage was a shaky voice. “Aunt Rajinder tells me you are doing well in hockey.” “Yes, our team held a practice this morning. I like it a lot,” he stammered, feeling clumsy. As the two stood together, they struggled to take in each other’s presence. Out of the corner of her eye, Ragni caught a glimpse of their image in the mirror on her wall. It took her by surprise that instead of seeing the two little children, as she somehow had always pictured them, she now saw two young adults. All the make-believe conversations they had held together during her long walks in the woods at school seemed to recede further from reality by the second. Now that they were really together, she found herself suddenly at a loss for words. Nothing seemed like it would be appropriate to say to him now. Kanwar suddenly realized this was no longer the little girl that used to play with him. Her grown presence made him aware of the changes he had been going through but hadn’t noticed. He realized, too, that while they used to chatter endlessly about nothing in general, as children will, now he was in a position where he didn’t know what to do or say. 76

Ragni gazed into Kanwar’s eyes, her prior fears and alienation dissipating in the midst of a wave rising in her heart. She carefully moved closer to him but receded a bit when she sensed him pulling away in shyness. “How has school been for you?” she asked, still staring intently into his eyes. Kanwar returned her gaze and let down the guard that made him pull away from her the first time. “I guess it’s okay,” he shrugged slightly. “How about you? How is school for you?” “It’s fine …it was easy this year,” she said, moving a little closer to him. The words she wanted to tell him just didn’t seem to be there, but in their eyes it was all very clear. In silence, she stepped boldly to him. This time, he didn’t retreat but made himself stand his ground, breathing hard. She took his hand in hers, and an electric charge ran from her insides, through her whole body, and into his as she led him to where her suitcase was sitting. “I have something I made for you,” she said, letting go of his hand and opening up the suitcase. Out of the side compartment, she produced a folded piece of cloth and handed it to Kanwar. As he unfolded the delicate cotton, he could see it was a handkerchief. In one of the corners, there was a little embroidered pink and red rose. The words, To Kanwar from Ragni, were stitched under the flower. After looking at the hanky, he smiled and turned his eyes to Ragni, who was waiting with anticipation. The force of his gaze made her turn her eyes to the ground. “Thank you, Ragni,” he said to her softly. All the words she had rehearsed to say to him at this moment completely vanished, and all she could do was meet his gaze, both of them standing in a place that was foreign yet seemed strangely familiar. 77

Footsteps coming up the stairs brought them back to reality. They were once again clumsy youths, unsure of themselves and how they were supposed to relate to each other. They broke their gaze and stepped away from each other, both slightly embarrassed and self-conscious. “Ragni? Kanwar? I have some snacks downstairs in the kitchen. Why don’t you come on down and have some?” It was Rajinder checking on them. As she approached the still open door to Ragni’s room, Kanwar fidgeted nervously and made his way to the door. “Uh, thank you, but I must return home. I have some unfinished chores,” he said awkwardly. “Are you sure? Oh well, maybe you could join us for dinner tomorrow evening?” Rajinder invited. “Yes, yes, maybe— that would be fine,” he replied, making his way out of the room and heading downstairs. “Well, maybe you’d like a snack, Ragni?” she asked. “In a moment, Auntie. I’ll be down in a moment,” Ragni said. “Okay,” her aunt said, shrugging her shoulders slightly and following Kanwar down the stairs. When she heard the two of them reach the bottom of the stairwell, Ragni went quickly to the window of her room. Resting her arms on the sill, she watched as Kanwar waved to her aunt and made his way back to his farm. She watched him until he disappeared over the hill. 78

CHAPTER 7 Sentiments of Indian nationalism were expressed as early as 1885 at the Indian National Congress, which was predominantly Hindu. In 1906, the All- India Muslim League formed with favorable relations towards British rule, but by 1913 that changed when the league shifted its focus and began to view Indian self-government as its goal. It continued to favor Hindu-Muslim unity towards that end for several decades, but, in 1940, the league began to call for a separate Muslim state from the projected independent India. The league was concerned that Hindus would dominate a united independent India. In the winter of 1945- 46, Mohammed Ali Jinnah’s Muslim League Central Legislative Assembly and most of the reserved provincial seats as well. In an effort to resolve deadlock between Congress and the Muslim League in order to transfer British power to a single Indian administration, a three-man Cabinet Mission formed in 1946 which drafted plans for a three-tier federation for India. According to those plans, the region would be divided into three groups of provinces, with Group A including the Hindu-populated provinces that would eventually comprise the majority of the independent India. Groups B and C were comprised of largely Muslim-populated provinces. Each group would be governed separately with a great degree of autonomy except for the handling of foreign affairs, communications, defense, and only those finances required for such nationwide matters.These issues would be addressed by a minimal central government located in Dehli. 79

The plan, however, did not take into account the fate of a large Sikh population living in Punjab, part of the B-group of provinces. Mughal emperors, persecution of Sikh gurus in the 17th century had infused the Sikh culture with a lasting anti-Muslim element that promised to erupt if the Punjab Sikhs were to be partitioned off as part of a Muslim-dominated province group. Although they did not make up more than two percent of the Indian population, the Sikhs had since 1942 been moving for a separate Azad Punjab of their own, and by 1946 they were demanding a free Sikh nation-state. As leader of the Muslim League, Jinnah accepted the Cabinet Mission’s proposal. However, when Nehru announced at his first press conference as the reelected president of Congress, no constituent assembly could be bound by any prearranged constitutional formula, Jinnah took this to be a repudiation of the plan, which was necessarily a case of all or nothing. The Muslim League ís Working Committee withdrew its consent and called upon the Muslim nation to launch direct action in mid-August 1946. A frenzy of rioting between Hindus and Muslims ensued. –Partition of India, 1947 Princess Sophia Alexandrovna Duleep Singh, the real heir of Punjab, was a prominent  suffragette  in the United Kingdom. She was the granddaughter of Maharaja Ranjit Singh and daughter of Maharaja Dalip Singh, who had been taken from his kingdom of  Punjab  to the  British Raj, and was sub- sequently exiled to England. Her godmother was Queen Victoria. She had four sisters, including two half-sisters, and four brothers. She lived in  Hampton Court in an apartment in Faraday House given to her by Queen Victoria as a  grace and favor. Being a celebrity and activist, she was very popular among the media and people of England. She had a lot of influence on British parliament by winning the case for women’s right to vote and to be candidates for parliament elections also. During the early twentieth century, Ms. Singh was one who pioneered the cause of women’s rights in Britain. Although she is best remembered for her leading role in the  Women’s Tax Resistance League, she also participated in other women’s suffrage groups, including the Union. She had a meeting with 80

Mahatama Gandhi in England. She visited Punjab and met Lala Lajpat Rai and Krishan Gopal Gokhle. Bamba Sofia Jindan Duleep Singh, the eldest daughter of Maharaja  Duleep Singh and granddaughter of Maharaja Ranjit Singh, was also living in Lahore that time. Bamba settled alone in Lahore and married the Principal of King Edward Medical College in Lahore – Dr. David Waters Sutherland in 1915. Surprisingly, Sikh leadership didn’t contact Sophia Dalip Singh—the real heir of the Sikh Empire. She was a very powerful leader and had a lot of influence on the British parliament during the division of Punjab and Bengal to avoid the bloodshed of civil war, and she could deliver the justification for Punjab as an independent nation. The British government was in favor, but it was Hindu leadership, Mr. Gandhi and Nehru, who were not in favor of Punjab as an independent nation. In March of 1947, Lord Mountbatten was sent to take over the viceroy, and encountered a situation in which he feared a forced evacuation of British troops. He recommended a partition of Punjab and Bengal in the face of raging civil war. Gandhi was very opposed to the idea of partition and urged Mountbatten to offer Jinnah leadership of a united India instead of the creation of a separate Muslim state. However, Nehru would not agree to that suggestion. In July, Britain’s Parliament passed the Indian Independence Act, which set a deadline of midnight on August 14-15, 1947, for “demarcation of the dominions of India.” As a result, at least 10 million Hindus, Muslims, and Sikhs fled their homes to seek sanctuary on whichever side of the line was favorable to them. It needed a minimum of six years for the division to hand over the complete system through a proper way to avoid bloodshed, but it was a great historic blunder that they did it in six months. The ensuing communal massacres left at least one million dead, with the brunt of the suffering born by the Sikhs who had been caught in the middle. Most of them eventually settled in east Punjab. 1947, The Partition of India (author) Both Moheeni and Kishan were born in the district of Lahore, which used to be the Capital of the Khalsa Empire, and became a part of Pakistan in 14 August, 1947. Moheeni was Kishan’s younger sister. When the war broke out, their family tried moving further into East Punjab. Their mother was killed during the civil war, and their father died shortly after moving them to their 81

farm in Bhatian, a village in east Punjab. It was at this point, with no parents to support them and their family farm at stake that the young Kishan had to quit school. Never inclined to be a farmer, he began keeping company with a rough crowd. Allowing the servants to work the fields on their own, he became involved with the drug mafia and started supplying heroin to the larger farm owners who needed it for their farmworkers. Moheeni and Kishan shared many characteristics. She was bold, sharp tongued, and sharp-witted—tall and slender, everything about her exuded confidence and daring. Her handsome face showed smooth yet strong features: a classically formed neck with long black hair and large, deep, flashing eyes that missed little and on more than one occasion were the object of discomfort for someone upon whom she chose to throw her wrath. The five hundred horsepower tractor trundled along the dirt road amid the scraggly cotton bushes. The day was over for Jaswant, and he was now returning the cumbersome machine to the shed for the evening. At times while driving the tractor over the monotonous fields, he would think of what might have been had his mother and father not died? He would have been able to finish his degree in engineering at the university. He could have seen and lived in big cities such as Bombay or Delhi. But as it was, running the farm was left to him. He was determined to see his younger brother, Kanwar, through college and allow, at least him, to fulfill his desires. After all, although running the farm was hard work, it was not such a bad life. He owned one of the four large farms in Bhatian, the others belonging to Shamsher, Rajinder (Raji’s) husband, Sarpanch, the mayor of the town, Dilawar Singh, the spoiled, rich boy, and Kishan, the bachelor who was feared by all because his reputation preceded him. Ahead in the road, Jaswant could see a solitary figure casting long shadows from the setting sun. His heart jumped and lifted a bit as he recognized Moheeni, Kishan’s younger sister—she was one of the things that made his life on the farm tolerable. 82

It was an unpleasant aspect of farm life that no one wanted to talk about, but a necessary one in the farmers’ eyes. Working the farms as a hired hand was a difficult life, especially when it was harvest time and things had to be done quickly without much rest. To keep the workers going, owners would supply them with morphine, which killed the pain, and placed them in a dopey passive frame of mind, so they were easily appeased and could be more easily manipulated. Even if they wanted to, workers often didn’t leave a farm they were working on because they never knew if they would be able to get as much morphine at the next farm. It was a threat the farm owners readily used to keep their workers loyal to them. As Kishan’s business grew, extending to smaller farm communities in outlying areas, he joined the major drug smuggling group in India, the infamous Mustan Group. In a matter of a few years, his daring, cunning, and ruthlessness elevated him to the head of this gang. He was able to maintain a low profile in Bhatian, now that he had graduated from a small-time dealer. His main headquarters was now in Bombay, and between his mansion there and a bungalow on the beach at Goa, he rarely spent time on his farm in Bhatian, leaving it to a few servants, his farm workers, and his younger sister, Moheeni. Although everyone in town outwardly showed Kishan great respect inwardly, they were terrified of him. No one had any idea exactly how powerful he was, but the stories of the few who attempted to cross him were widespread and well known enough that even idle gossip about him was rare. He seemed to do what he wanted and go where he pleased without police interference since he had bought them off long ago. All this had a formative influence on Moheeni. Since there was no one to rein her in, she, too, did and said whatever she felt without repercussion. If she did something unpopular, who was going to say anything against her, with the ominous figure of Kishan looming behind her? As she heard the tractor approaching from behind, she glanced quickly over her shoulder. Seeing that it was Jaswant, a satisfied smile spread across her face, but she continued walking slowly down the road, pretending to ignore him. 83

Stopping the tractor a few feet behind her, Jaswant cut the engine and hopped off. She was still ignoring him, but he grinned to himself at the little game she played. Grabbing her arm and spinning her about, he said, smiling, “Where are you going?” “Oh! It’s you!” She said, feigning surprise. Laughing, he responded, “Who did you think it was? After all, this is my stretch of land.” “Oh, I hadn’t noticed. I was taking a walk, a break from my studies, and I guess I hadn’t been paying attention to where I was going,” she said with mock innocence. With a heated look, he gestured with his head, “Come on, the tool shed is just over there. We can sit for a while in there.” Shaking her arm loose from his grasp, she said haughtily, “I have to study for my English test tomorrow. I don’t have time. Maybe after my tests are over.” Undaunted, Jaswant took her hand and pulled her to the tractor. “Come on then. I’ll give you a ride on the tractor. Afterward, I’ll drive you back to your house. It’ll just be a few minutes.” Giving in to him, she allowed herself to be pulled to the tractor and boosted up into its high seat so that she was perched next to him. In a few minutes, they were pulling up to the wooden tool shed. One of the young farm helpers was leaning against the shed smoking some tobacco in a chillum, a kind of hookah. The helper was watching one of the irrigation valves flooding the fields but disappeared quickly when he saw them. Shutting off the tractor and taking Moheeni into the dark shed, they sat on a small cot in one of the corners. Jaswant could see the red-hot coals of the worker’s chillum fading into the distance. Now they were alone. The large open window next to the cot offered a panoramic view of the fields behind them. To the left of the fields, they could hear the wind rustling 84

the leaves in the half-acre orange tree grove. Moheeni moved closer to Jaswant and rested her head on his shoulder, snuggling him by putting her arm around his. Just as they were getting comfortable with each other, she began sniffing, quietly at first, then lifting her head and smelling the air around him suspiciously. Pulling away from him, she said with surprise, “You’ve been drinking!” Sheepishly, Jaswant looked at her, trying to assume an innocent expression. “I just had two small drinks. Just two.” Staring sharply into his eyes, she said accusingly, “Are you sure? Just two?” Raising his hands in the air helplessly, he said, “Yes! Why don’t you believe me?” “I believe you,” she replied after studying him. She took his arm in hers again and softened her tone of voice. “That’s a lot less than you used to drink. Why?” “Because you don’t like it,” Jaswant said, becoming confident. They snuggled closer together, and Jaswant put his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. “You are the only one I think of, Moheeni. If you want, I will stop drinking altogether,” he promised, cooing into her ear. “No, I don’t want you doing anything you don’t want to do. I just don’t want to see you injure yourself, that’s all,” she told him. By now, he was softly nibbling on her ear and kissing her cheek. Part of Moheeni wanted him to continue, but part of her knew she had to pull away. “I…I should return to my studies,” she informed him weakly. Jaswant ignored her and continued kissing her ear, pulling her closer to him. 85

“Please, Jaswant. Take me home,” she said, pushing him away from her purposefully. He started to look at her with hurt on his face, but he could tell by the flashing glint in her eyes that he better not push things. When she meant business, there was no arguing. Her fiery temper was not something to be messed with. Only when he rose from the cot and escorted her out of the shed did her demeanor start to soften. From across the field, Ragni could see the tractor rumbling down the road back to Moheeni’s farm. Downstairs, her uncle Shamsher was having some of his friends over, and she didn’t want to be in the way. Besides, she had a telescope set up in her room pointed at Kanwar’s house. At night, Kanwar would look at Ragni with a pair of binoculars while Ragni would watch and wave at him while looking through her telescope. Her aunt wouldn’t allow them to spend as much time together as they used to, but at least they could still see each other from a distance. Downstairs in the sitting room, connected to the outside of the house and set aside specifically for entertaining guests, Shamsher was just welcoming a few of his cronies—farmers and minor town officials. As they entered the room, Shamsher could see the two figures sitting side-by-side on the tractor. “Say, isn’t that Jaswant and Kishan’s younger sister up there on that tractor with him?” someone in the bunch said. The others looked, shaking their heads disapprovingly. “That girl does whatever she pleases—in broad daylight, no less,” he continued, but there was no gossiping response from the others. They were too afraid that whatever they might say would somehow reach Kishan, for though they were friends, none of them would hesitate to turn traitor on the other if it meant gaining something for themselves. Upon seeing that no one was going to join him in his gossip, Shamsher nervously cleared his throat and welcomed the others into his bethak. 86

Rajinder and Smitti were busy setting trays of snacks on a table for Shamsher’s friends and were just leaving the room as they entered. “Smitti, is there any bottle in the house?” he half-shouted to his maid. “You drank the last of it last night,” she answered quietly. Frowning at his lack of memory, he roughly called for his old servant, Bachen. “Bachen! Ride into town and get a couple of bottles of Desi Sharab!” (county liquor). The old servant nodded. His joints stiffened from hard work in the fields, he gingerly mounted his beat-up, old bicycle and began pedaling down the dirt road the two miles to town. After rapping on the door of the liquor store several times, the owner finally came and gruffly opened it. “What’s wrong with you? It’s Sunday. Everyone is closed—including me! Can’t you read the sign?” he said, irritated at having to answer the door on his day off. “I am sorry, Sahib. I am the servant of Shamsher, the Sarpanch (Mayer of the village). He is entertaining some important guests and requests that you sell him two bottles of Desi Sharab,” {country liquor), Bachen explained humbly. Upon hearing that it was for the town Sarpanch, the shopkeeper’s temper changed to one of opportunistic eagerness. “Sarpanch, eh? Wait here,” he said, closing the door. In a few moments, he returned with a brown paper sack with two bottles of the clear wheat liquor snugly wrapped inside. Opening the door just slightly and looking about so no one would see him, he quickly shoved the bag into the servant’s stomach and hurriedly made him cradle it with his arms, hiding it. “Tell Shamsher I will put these on his account. Now go! Quickly!” he said, slamming the door in his face. 87

Stuffing the bags in the folds within his clothes, Bachen got back on his bicycle and, trying to ride with one hand, slowly and shakily proceeded back home. Almost falling off the bicycle several times, he patiently pedaled the rusty, clanking contraption back down the dirt road. One of Shamsher’s long-time field workers, Bachen had grown too weak and sapped from the years of heavy morphine doses. Shamsher now kept him around to run menial errands and gave him enough morphine to keep him doped up and happy. In Bachen’s eyes, Shamsher wasn’t that bad a person— when they were alone, he could be quite nice. It was just when he was around his friends that he became bellicose and arrogant, a show of importance he felt was necessary to uphold his position as the small-town mayor. Bachen recognized this and didn’t take his sometimes crude actions too seriously when these occasions arose, but, rather, just put up with them in much the same manner Shamsher’s wife did. He knew that once his company left, he would return, almost sheepishly, to the sweet man he could be. “What took you so long?” Shamsher grumbled to the old man. “The store was closed. I had to wait a long time for the owner to come to the door. He said to tell you that he would gladly place these bottles on your account,” the old man said, his eyes glued to the bottles as Shamsher pulled them from the rumpled paper sack. “Hmpf,” Shamsher grunted as he grabbed a glass from the table. Opening one of the bottles, he poured the clear liquid into the glass until it was three- quarters full and then handed it to the servant, who patiently licked his lips and accepted it with a toothy grin. “Thank you, Sahib (master)! Thank you!” he said, eagerly taking the glass from Shamsher. “Yes, yes. Now go—out of the house, and check the cattle,” he shooed the servant away and took the bottles to his waiting friends who were busy devouring the snacks on the table. 88

“So, who do you favor for the ox race at the coming village festival?” he loudly said as he passed the bottle to his friend on his right. The ox race was one of the premier events in the village, which consisted of two bulls pulling a wagon and driver around a prescribed course. The liquor seemed to raise the volume of all the men’s voices, which drifted outside and up to Ragni’s room in the rear. Their ranting reminded her of muffled dogs barking and howling at each other. The lights were out in her room now, as they were in Kanwar’s room across the five-acre field. They had just spent the better part of two hours peering through the telescope and binoculars at each other, waving, flirting, and just looking at each other, sometimes one of them miming something to the other. Over the years, on nights when Kanwar’s brother had checked on him, she would watch him scramble to hide the binoculars and then laugh with glee at his embarrassment; the same would occur on his end when Rajinder would come to say goodnight to Ragni. Many times Ragni would just watch Kanwar sleep, staring transfixed through the telescope lens until the roosters began to crow, and the morning sun crept up into the pink and yellow sky. But this night, after the lights in both houses went out, Kanwar began playing his reed flute. His brother had not returned from driving Moheeni home, and he was able to stay up later. Moving in front of the window so Ragni could watch, he began a jolly melody and began to dance a little jig as he played, making Ragni laugh delightedly as the music floated over the fields. The music blended with the singing of the crickets in the fields, and soon the song grew quieter, more pensive—as if, since Kanwar couldn’t be with Ragni physically, he could be with her through his music. He was sitting sideways in the window sill now, his eyes closed, letting the soft, slow, low-pitched tones carry himself to her. Ragni moved away from her telescope and lay down on her bed, closing her eyes and letting his music imbue her with its gentle caresses. Floating 89

upward, the sounds she now heard became an orchestra. The raucous men’s talk from her uncle and his friends was softened by the walls of the house to a nondescript murmur. The barking dogs farther up the road toward the village echoed a staccato that cut through the high-pitched humming from the crickets and frogs in the irrigation canals. All of these sounds spun an ongoing backdrop for the haunting melody that carried her from this world, gently, ever so gently, to the softer world beyond. 90

CHAPTER 8 S he wasn’t asleep yet, but it still startled her. Something rattled her window. She lay silent in her bed, tensed up and listening. Then it happened again. Something was definitely being thrown against her window. In the dark, Moheeni tiptoed to the window, peering cautiously out. Below, in the courtyard, she saw the tall figure of Jaswant looking up at her. Opening the window farther, she whispered, “Jaswant, what do you want at this hour?” traces of a smile showing on her face. “I want to talk to you. Let me up,” he called up in as loud a whisper as he could muster without shouting. “Shh. Wait, I will come to you,” she whispered back. Wrapping herself in a robe, she quickly but silently opened her bed- room door and crept downstairs to the front. When she opened the door, Jaswant was standing in the dark smiling. “What is it?” she whispered. “May I come in?” he asked. After thinking for a moment, she opened the door wider and allowed him inside. 91

“You must be quiet, or the maids will hear us,” she cautioned him. As the two snuck upstairs, she locked the doors behind her—first the downstairs door, then the upstairs outer door, and finally the one to her room. The light was out in her room, but the full moon rising over the distant hills cast a soft blue glow against her walls. They stood facing each other without saying anything, the only sound in the room being the rhythmic hum of the ceiling fan turning languidly above. Nervously clearing his throat, Jaswant asked, “How was your English test?” “Okay, I guess. It wasn’t too hard,” she replied, equally nervous and aware of their intimacy. Without another word, Jaswant slowly moved toward her and extended his hands, palms up. Instinctively, she took his hands in hers and allowed herself to be pulled closer to him. He was holding her waist firmly in his hands, and the breath went out of her lungs. She found herself pulling closer to him. He could feel the warmth of her body against his and, for the first time, felt the soft but firm curves of her breasts as they melted against him. The heat of their embrace startled her, and when she became aware of her breathing again, she began to release her hold on him. Still light-headed, she struggled to regain control of her sight, which was filled with light and had blinded her momentarily. Grasping at the first thing she could to bring herself back to the world, she turned away from him and looked out the window. “Look—the evening star has risen. Do you know what the day after tomorrow is?” she stammered, the words seeming to break up the euphoria of her inner state like thunder rolling in the distance, yet she had barely whispered when she spoke them out loud. “No,” Jaswant replied softly, also struggling to speak. “It will be the first day of the month, Sungrand, the holy day at the Golden Temple in Amritsar,” she explained, pulling away from their embrace. Her arms were on his shoulders now, and he held her waist, but they were far enough apart that they could look each other in the eyes. She continued, “Will you take me to Amritsar so that I may visit the Golden Temple?” 92

Disappointed that the magical mood they were in was being broken with words, he asked, “Why do you want me to take you to the Golden Temple?” “I have a prayer I wish to make there,” she said, gazing pleadingly into his eyes. A slight frown came over his face as he was pulled back to the world of mundane responsibilities. “I can’t leave the farm. We’re irrigating over the next few weeks, and the servants don’t know how to do it right. That Ammlee never quite gets things done the correct way.” She slid her hands up his shoulders to his neck and wrapped them into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling her warm body closer to his. Every pore in his body opened up, receiving her like a man dying of thirst drinks of a well. Nuzzling her face next to his cheek, she cooed into his ear, “Please take me. I can have my servant Jullo help Ammlee with the field chores. It’s very important to me that I go and very important to me that I go with you.” He could feel the blood running through his loins and through his entire body, and the tingling sensation all over made his head light. His willpower was gone, and he would have agreed to anything at this moment. Sighing, he said, “When shall we go?” A surge of joy rushed through her, partly from being the victor, partly because she truly wanted to be with Jaswant. Hugging him tightly, she said excitedly, “We can leave early in the morning the day after tomorrow. We can go in your Jeep. It will only be a three-hour drive. We can return the next day.” She nuzzled his neck, making him momentarily forget how he was going to work this plan out. She whispered into his ear, the heat of her breath sending cold shivers up his spine, “I will be waiting for you in front of my house at ten o’clock in the morning the day after tomorrow. You must go now.” 93

He pulled his head back a little so he could see her face. He drew so much pleasure from seeing her so radiant, so happy, that even if he wasn’t sure how he would manage to leave the farm, he was determined to find a way. The next morning, Jaswant carried the bowls of bean soup, mango pickle cornbread, cooked mustard leaves(sag), and yogurt to the two field hands, Ammlee and Jakhar, who were waiting by the electric motor pump that worked the irrigation water valve. Ammlee was leaning his full weight on a shovel used for damming up small irrigation walls in the fields, but this morning he was clearly in a funk. Jaswant had known Ammlee for years, ever since he was a boy, but he still didn’t know very much about where he came from or what his real name was. Ammlee is a name given to morphine addicts, and Ammlee had been one for so long, he took it as his personal name. He was probably in his early or mid-forties but could look either much younger or older depending on when he had his last dosage of morphine. His five-foot, ten-inch frame looked like nothing more than a badly done upholstery job of skin covering his thick bones. He wore a dirty cotton turban that was open on the top, revealing his shaven head. Even his mustache and goatee-like beard looked undernourished. His cheeks were almost non-existent as if he were suckling them in, which made his large bloodshot eyes seem on the verge of sinking out of their sockets and into the back of his head. The wrinkles on his forehead exuded tiny beads of sweat even when it wasn’t hot out, and whenever he laughed, he displayed a mangled set of half missing teeth. Typical of an addict, he was always making sarcastic jokes but seldom laughed at his own. Whenever he walked, a creaking noise came from his ankles, which Jaswant could never figure out. His aged knee-length shorts seemed to match his dirty turban, and during all these years, Jaswant couldn’t remember ever seeing him wear anything else. Though he looked to be quite a useless character, with enough morphine, he could be a strong and tireless worker. As Jakhar, the younger worker of about twenty-five, and Ammlee sat down to eat, Jaswant sat on the ground with them and asked, “Do you know what day tomorrow is?” 94

Jakhar, knowing, but getting a sly, mischievous look, pleaded ignorance. He was watching Ammlee out of the corner of his eye. “I am not sure SardarJi,” (title of respect from a servant to his master). “Ammlee probably knows,” he said, knowing full well Ammlee was suffering withdrawals. It had been two weeks since the local drug dealer made the rounds of Bhatian. Ammlee was absent-mindedly washing his hands in the flowing water of the irrigation pump. “Thursday? Tomorrow is Thursday?” he answered tiredly. Jakhar started laughing cruelly at this and guffawed, “It’s Tuesday, Ammlee! Ha! Ha! Tuesday! You’re skipping a couple of days!” Ammlee looked helplessly up at Jaswant from the pool of water. “Sardar Ji, I don’t remember the day. I’m in bad shape. I’ve had no afim,” (morphine) “for so long. Kishan’s man has not come by.” Jaswant sympathized, “Doesn’t the dealer in Tanda, the next village, have some to sell you?” Ammlee grew bitter and spat out, “That cleaver of snakes! He mixes raw sugar cane with the afim to make it go further. It is no good! ” Jakhar continued his jabs at old Ammlee, “Say, Ammlee, when your matchbox is empty of its drugs, does it feel like a beam of your house is falling on your head?” Angered at his perverse sense of humor, Ammlee cast an abrasive glance at Jakhar, “It’s easy for you to make jokes—you are not addicted yet, but just you wait—Auntie” (a slang term for a morphine addiction) “will get you sooner or later, and when she does, you will see what it is like to have her nag you until you are crazy!” 95

Jaswant, hearing enough of poor Ammlee’s suffering, pulled out a little matchbox and produced a small black wad of morphine from a piece of plastic, and held it out to Ammlee. Without saying another word, Ammlee snatched the afim from his hand in one smooth motion, popped it in his mouth, and swallowed it with a handful of water from the irrigation pump. “Thank you, Sardar Ji! Where did you find the Nagni?” (an extremely poisonous black female snake, also a nickname for morphine, as it is sold in small black lumps) he asked gratefully, wiping the water off his mouth with the back of his hand. Jaswant explained, “I met a carpenter on the road yesterday coming from Pele Bhir in Uttar Pradesh (upstate in India) where he was visiting his daughter. The poppy grows plentiful there; he gave me a small lump for my farm hands so they’d work harder.” Ammlee continued his thankfulness. “May you live long—bless you, Sardar Ji! Bless you, and may you live long with your love life.” As Ammlee said these last words, Jaswant noted the pointed look in his rapidly reddening eyes as he laid a slight emphasis on love. Jakhar, who was bent over laughing at the sight of Ammlee snatching the Nagni and eating it so quickly, continued taunting Ammlee. “Hey, Ammlee, now that Auntie has been appeased, do you know what day it is tomorrow?” Now that the morphine was taking effect, Ammlee was returning to his senses and realized that Jakhar was making a fool of him. He growled, “Tomorrow is Tuesday! What do you think I am? Stupid?” Jakhar, still laughing, came closer to Ammlee and clutched his scrawny, bony arm. “Hey, Ammlee, now that you have had your Nagni, do you feel stronger?” Ammlee, barely controlling his temper, replied gruffly, “Listen, you young scamp. You think you know so much? I was tending the devil’s grave 96

before you were born! You better believe there is still some strength in these old bones!” Jakhar just laughed harder and said, “Your old bones are so brittle when you die, they won’t even have to lay birch on your pyre—your bones will burn fine just as they are!” Ammlee lowered his chin and said ominously, “So you want to see how strong these old bones are, eh?” And before Jakhar even knew what was happening, Ammlee had taken hold of one of his ankles and wrists, picked him up off the ground, and flung him six or seven feet into the dirt. Before he could wipe the smile off his face, Ammlee was on him like a cat, sitting on his back, pinning one arm behind him and pounding his face into the dust with the other hand. Gasping for air and choking on the dust, Jakhar tried calling for Jaswant to make Ammlee stop, but each time he opened his mouth to scream, he caught a mouthful of dust, making him cough and gag even more. After Jaswant decided he had had enough, he firmly grasped Ammlee’s shoulder, who quickly regained his senses and stopped, grudgingly getting off Jakhar. Brushing off the dust with calm and dignity, Ammlee walked over to where they were eating and picked up his smoking chillum. Jakhar was busy scrubbing the dirt out of his eyes and spitting up mud. “Just you wait a few hours until the Nagni has worn off, then we will see how strong you are—then it will be my turn to rub your face in the dust!” he shouted after Ammlee but kept his distance, mindful that Ammlee was not to be fooled with now. Jaswant chided good-naturedly, “Yes, you should have known not to taunt Ammlee after he had just eaten Nagni.” Jakhar sourly grabbed the shovel and stalked off to work on the field ditches. As he watched him move out of hearing distance, Jaswant came over to where Ammlee was sitting smoking his chillum. 97

“Ammlee, what did you mean when you talked about living long… with love’?” he asked, worried about what he had seen the day before. “I know these things,” Ammlee said with the air of a confident raja now that he was riding high on his afim. “What did you see?” Jaswant pressed, worried that perhaps others had seen him and Moheeni alone together. (It should be noted here that in the Punjab, in small villages, all inhabitants are considered as brothers and sisters, and it is a strict taboo to be married or even seen alone together with one of the opposite sex from the same village.) Ammlee puffed casually on his chillum (smoking pipe) and answered, “I saw you riding with a young woman on your tractor last night. It was getting dark, and I couldn’t see very well—but the next day, a young woman came to the farm looking for you. I figured then that it was the same one that had been on the tractor with you.” “Did anyone else see us?” he asked, taking hold of Ammlee’s shoulder firmly. With this action, Ammlee was reminded that he was his employer and dropped some of the haughtiness. “No, Sardar Ji,” he replied more meekly. “I don’t think anyone else saw. I would not let it worry you.” Jaswant looked away and nodded, thinking. “Ammlee, I am leaving tomorrow for two days on some business. I want you to take charge of the irrigation pumps. It is very important that you do it correctly. Do you understand?” he said forcefully, looking hard into Ammlee’s bloodshot eyes. “Yes, Sardar Ji. I will take care of it,” he said, trying to appease his master. 98

“If you will take care of the electric pumps correctly, I will bring you back some Nagni, but you must do it absolutely perfect if you are to get your reward. Understood?” Jaswant said firmly as if talking to a young child. Upon hearing that he would get more Nagni, Ammlee’s attention perked up considerably. “Yes, Sardar Ji. I will not fail. Rest easy. I will take care of the farm while you are gone,” he said quickly. He dressed slowly in front of the mirror, making sure everything was in place. The red embroidered roses on the upper-chest portion of his chader (Indian dress shirt) showed up gaily in contrast to the soft, white silk. Straightening his navy blue turban, he stroked his mustache and beard. Strapping his gun holster on over his shoulder, since most farmers in the Punjab carry pistols, he pulled on his shiny navy blue jacket. Nodding in approval after giving himself a final once over in the mirror, he took his sturdy six-foot frame downstairs. “Mother, I am going to take my day off. I had planned to go Amritsar with my friend and have some fun in the city. I would like to go another forty minutes further to see the border of India & Pakistan and the division of Punjab that took the life of my father in the civil war.” He was sad, “I have taken care of all the farm chores. Ammlee knows how to take care of the irrigation pump. May I have your permission to go?” he asked. His mother, Sham Kaur had teared up remembering the death of her husband in the civil war. She doted on her two sons ever since her husband died. They were good boys in her eyes, and she never liked to deny them the few things they requested. “How long will you be gone?” she asked, a little bit worried. 99

“I will be back tomorrow evening if not before,” he replied. “One of the cattle—the one with the blond hair on his forehead—has not been eating his feed. Shouldn’t something be done about it?” she asked. “I will talk to the vet on my way out. Kanwar can pick up the medicine from him,” he told her. With no more objections, Sham Kaur worked her hands a bit before replying, “Well, I guess if you have taken care of all the things that need to be attended to, I suppose you should go to the city.” “Thank you, Mother.” He pulled the Jeep from the garage. “Drive safely, my son!” she called after him. After a quick stop at the vet’s, Jaswant sped up to the front of Moheeni’s courtyard. She was waiting behind one of the columns in the front, and before he could even turn the ignition off, she had tossed a light suitcase in the back of the Jeep and was in the seat beside Jaswant. He was so nervous that they would be seen together; he barely looked at her or said anything until they were safely speeding out of town. Once on the outer road, he broke into a smile and pulled her closer to him. For the first time since picking her up, he got a chance to look at her. She was dressed in a blue kameez (shirt) embroidered with gold threads and shimmery gold sequins. Her salwar (loose-fitting pants) matched the blue of her kameez. The light chunni (a long sheer strip of cloth used to wrap over the shoulders) was also embroidered with gold lace and had gold sequins scattered over it. She wore large, round, gold earrings, and on her forehead was a green Bindi (mark on the forehead). The narrow roads demanded careful driving, and though it was only seventy-five miles to Amritsar, it took nearly three hours to reach the city limits. It had been a while since either of them had been to a large town, and they relished the freedom and anonymity the larger crowds offered. There was no fear of being seen together here, and they were able to see a side of each other they had previously been unable to express. After driving around town 100

for a bit, they found a hotel within walking distance of the Golden Temple. Jaswant brought the bags in and left them on the check-in counter. Signing for the room, he took the key and left, giving instructions to the desk clerk to drop the bags off in the room since Moheeni was anxious to get to the temple. Outside the Golden Temple was a pool of running water where an attendant took everyone’s shoes and would wash their faces, hands, and feet before they could enter. As they neared the temple, they were swallowed up in a sea of people headed in the same direction. The gold-plated domes of the temple shimmered like a second sun in the sky, radiating a care and beauty bestowed on it from thousands of pilgrims who came to worship there. The thousand-roomed guesthouse that supplied food and lodging free of charge to pilgrims lay to one side of the temple, and on the left of the center was the religious library where all the holy books and historical documents for the Sikh religion were kept. On the right was the Sikh capital, Akal Takhat, the God Court of Justice. It was here that the five high priests resided, able to pronounce sentence on any man, laborer, or king. Jaswant and Moheeni entered the holy temple and touched their heads to the floor in front of the Holy Book. The priest gave them the sweet karah to eat and then Moheeni went forward to pray. When they were finished inside Moheeni walked along the low marble wall that ran alongside the temple. “What did you pray to God for?” Jaswant finally asked. “Maybe I will tell you later,” Moheeni said, looking at the ground. “No, tell me now,” Jaswant chided her. Moheeni smiled coyly and, after walking in silence a bit further, said, “I asked God to give you to me!” Jaswant abruptly stopped walking and took Moheeni’s arm firmly, spinning her around to face him. He looked deeply into her eyes, startling 101

her at first, but, after a moment, a soft smile found its way over the seriousness that he was expressing, and she knew by his look that he meant never to leave her. A happiness that scattered doubts and many questions swept through her heart, and she knew God was answering her prayers. They went to the museum to look at the pictures of the Sikhs fighting with the Muslims and British, but their attention was not so much on what they were looking at as it was on the newness of the unspoken love they had expressed for each other. “What shall we do now?” she asked him after they came out of the museum. “How about a movie? There is one just down the street,” he said. They sat in the darkened theater, arm in arm, watching the movie, as well as the rest of the world, from this new perspective of being together. After the movie was over, they returned to the hotel for a couple of drinks in the bar and then dinner. As they walked up the flight of stairs to their room, both wondered what they should do once inside. When Jaswant opened the room, Moheeni went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. While taking off his jacket, Jaswant realized the clerk had put them in a room with only one bed. Panic spread throughout his insides as he quickly called the clerk downstairs. “Hello, front desk? This is Jaswant Singh in room 209. There is only one bed in this room. I would like to request another one, please.” The clerk answered sleepily, “I am sorry, there is no extra bed; every room is completely full. The hotel is completely sold out,” he chuckled. Jaswant hadn’t thought about the fact that the reception desk had assumed Moheeni was his wife and nearly choked at the sudden realization. “Err, I’ve had an extremely tiring drive and would like to sleep alone this night. Are you sure there isn’t another room available?” he said. 102