Fear and Lovely

Arnav: Partners in crime 1975 He came out of Randhir’s back door and was walking down the veranda steps to where his bike was parked when Mallika emerged from her back veranda. She ran towards him. Breathlessly but peremptorily, she said, ‘Arnav, please give me a lift.’ ‘Yeah, sure,’ he replied, a little stunned. He started the bike and had barely got onto it when he felt her sitting behind him. ‘Where to?’ A slight pause, then she said, ‘I’ll get off at IIT.’ She must have thought he was going back to IIT. But he was going to see his mother. He didn’t say so. He’d drop her there. She held onto him tighter than any girl who’d ever sat on his bike. He was so disoriented that he almost ran into the bus in front of him. She was still holding onto him tightly when he stopped at the red light near India Gate. ‘Are you going onwards from IIT?’ he asked. Another pause. ‘To… JNU… To see Gauri.’ ‘Gauri isn’t at JNU – Randhir’s taken them all shopping,’ he said. Mahima had got engaged recently. Randhir, with a stiff upper lip, had taken the girls shopping just half an hour ago. How come she wasn’t with them? For that matter, how come she didn’t know? The lights turned green. ‘Not to worry, I’ll take you back home,’ he said, turning. She said, ‘Can we stop and sit here for a while?’ Stop and sit at the India Gate lawns? What on earth for? He stopped. As they got off, he saw that she was frozen to the bone. Her nose was bright red. She was hugging herself. Her eyes were watering and a streak of kajal was running down her cheek. She just had on a sweater and shawl. He was overcome with remorse. No wonder she had wanted to stop. She was freezing to death. ‘Mallika, you’re freezing.’ He took off his jacket and gave it to her. He was wearing a thick sweater under it. She took it without protesting and put it on. ‘Now you’re cold.’ She gave him her red bandhini shawl. Smiling, he took it and wrapped it around himself. They sat on the lawn. Of course, she didn’t talk. She hadn’t talked that day at the party either when he’d told her his stories. He hadn’t realized it at the time because she was laughing so much. Now, she was looking down at her lap, lost in thought. ‘You didn’t know Mahima and the others were going shopping?’ he asked, lighting a cigarette. She looked up at him, her eyes wide. ‘I mean, the four of you do everything together,’ he added. Her eyes became wider. Had he said something wrong? After a whole minute, she said, ‘No; sometimes we don’t do things together.’ He was just making pc, and here she was responding as though the weight of the world sat on a correct answer! She really was an odd one. She opened her cloth bag, took a small sleeping puppy out of it, and gave it to him. Bemused, he took it from her. It was a little black Mishti. He almost doubled up with the pain. He gave the puppy back to Mallika. Her hands were ice cold. ‘Mallika, what on earth are you doing with a puppy?’ ‘I found her on the road outside the colony. She was… lost.’ She was looking at him as though – oh, god, no. No. ‘Mallika, I can’t keep her.’ Her face fell. The puppy was a female. Black, like Mishti. He tried not to watch how Mallika was cradling the puppy against her neck – the way he had cradled Mishti when she was a puppy. When she was no longer a puppy. When he was home, that was their goodnight ritual: he, sitting on the floor with Mishti in his arms; her face buried in his neck, giving an occasional whimper of love. ‘Why can’t you keep her?’ he asked. ‘My Ayah-ji was bitten once and had to have fourteen injections in her stomach. She hates dogs. Every time I said I wanted one as a child, she’d threaten to leave.’ The puppy was suckling her chin. ‘Poor thing, she’s hungry,’ Mallika sighed. He said softly, ‘Let’s take her home. My mother will find a home for her.’ Mallika literally sagged with relief. ‘But why were you taking the puppy to Gauri?’ he asked, puzzled. She thought about this. ‘My mother had gone out and I couldn’t find Prabha, Mahima, or Randhir,’ she said. ‘But they’d have come back.’ Nothing she was saying was making sense. ‘And besides, Gauri’s in the hostel, she can’t keep a puppy.’ Mallika said, ‘But Gauri always knows what to do.’ He blinked. ‘Chalo then,’ he said. He didn’t get it. They got up, she put the puppy carefully in her bag, and they walked to his bike. It just came out of him. ‘Did I talk too much that day at Randhir’s party?’ ‘No.’ ‘Yeah, I’d smoked too much at that party.’ Then he realized how it sounded: as if being stoned was the only reason he’d talked to her. ‘That’s why you talked to me?’ To his relief, she sounded amused. ‘Of course not.’ Mallika laughed. ‘You’re quite a storyteller!’ ‘Me? Oh, no, that’s Randhir.’ ‘Of course not! Not Randhir.’ Not Randhir? What was she saying! ‘How can you say that? You know he’s been writing stories all his life! I mean, you know how obsessively he does it.’ They were standing next to his bike. He waited for her answer. She looked away from him and didn’t say a word. After a few seconds, he started the bike, wondering. Did she not like Randhir’s writing? How could that be? By the time they reached home, he – sans jacket – was frozen to death. Ma greeted Mallika and the puppy with delight. When he asked her if she could find a home for it, Ma answered immediately: ‘The Luthras want a puppy for their daughter – they’re a very good family. I’ll phone them.’ She kissed the puppy several times and smiled delightedly at Mallika. Ma was on the phone, talking and laughing for a few minutes. Then she put down the phone, beaming. ‘I’ll take her there after lunch. They’re so excited. They’re all dog lovers, Mallika.’ He watched Mallika smiling at his mother with relief. ‘Now you have lunch with us, Mallika,’ Ma said. ‘But –’ ‘Come on, Mallika,’ Arnav interrupted. ‘Just phone Madhu Aunty and ask her to tell your mother you’re having lunch here. I’ll drop you back after that.’ Mallika hesitated. Then she said, ‘OK. Thank you.’ While Mallika was phoning Madhu Aunty from his house, he put on another jacket, took an old towel from the cupboard and a basket he found in the kitchen, and installed the sleeping puppy in his room. He had tried so hard not to touch this little Mishti. But now, alone with her, his resolution disintegrated. He held her, stroked her, and kissed her. Little Mishti blissfully licked his face, his neck, and his hands. This kind of love was pain. He didn’t want it. After Mishti’s death, he had spent very few weekends at home. He missed Ma, but it couldn’t be helped. The smell of agarbatti wafting out of his father’s puja room revolted him. Before, it hadn’t cost him anything to be part of the pujas for festivals like Diwali and Janmashtami. He had always seen them as family rituals more so than prayers. But after his praying father sent Mishti to her death, Arnav could no longer be part of it. He refused to join his parents for their pujas during Diwali or Janmashtami. ‘I’ve given up on the boy,’ he heard his father complain to his mother. ‘Maybe a good wife will sudharo him one day.’ Fat chance. He fed the puppy milk, took her outside to pee, and finally put her back on the old towel and joined Ma and Mallika for lunch. Ma had taken a shine to Mallika. During lunch, she chattered away, asking Mallika about her mothers and her stepfather and her college and her saree – oh, it was her grandmother’s saree, such a beautiful Kanjeevaram, you didn’t get Kanjeevarams like this in Delhi, not even in the emporiums. Ma was beaming ominously at Mallika. An hour later, driving back to Mallika’s home, he took the detour to India Gate again. This spot – where large lawns sprawled on either side of Rajpath with their stunning trees, where at one end lay Rashtrapati Bhavan and, at the other, India Gate – was one of his favourite spots in Delhi. He, Randhir, and Vineet often drove there after midnight and raced each other on their motorcycles down Rajpath, which was empty at that time of the night. Sometimes, even at that late hour, there would be a solitary ice creamwalla with his cart of multicoloured ice creams, and they’d descend upon him, raging with hunger. As he and Mallika drove past India Gate, Arnav felt the urge to ask her if she felt like some ice cream. He didn’t want ice cream, he wanted… He had no idea what he wanted. He turned, ‘Ice cream?’ Mallika said, ‘Oh, yes!’ Ten minutes later, they were sitting on the India Gate lawns, eating ice cream. ‘Please don’t tell anyone about the puppy, not even Randhir,’ she said. This was getting odder and odder. ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Just don’t.’ ‘OK,’ he said, both amused and curious. She went back to eating her ice cream. The Ice Maiden returned when she caught him looking at her. ‘What?’ ‘I’ve never seen anyone eating ice cream with such relish.’ She laughed, and the Ice Maiden dissolved like mist under the sun. Before her laughter disappeared, he plunged into a story about the time Vineet had dared him to enter the famously prison-like LSR hostel. They’d both smoked a lot that day. All he remembered now was emerging from a delicious sleep to find himself in a room full of hysterically laughing girls. He hadn’t had the foggiest idea where he was. He swung himself off the bed and almost tripped over the burkha that he was wearing. As he looked at himself in horror, the girls became even more hysterical. ‘Arnav, you’re too funny,’ one of the girls shrieked – he recognized her as a girl called Radha, whom he’d met at the IIT festival. ‘Where am I?’ he asked. The girls, in a frenzy of laughter, informed him that he was in the LSR hostel. ‘But… How?’ The girls became more hysterical. They told him that no one had any idea how he’d got inside. A group of girls had come back to the room and found a burkha-clad man asleep on the bed. Fortunately, two of them recognized him from the IIT festival. He was then stuck in the hostel overnight as the guard had locked the main door. The girls smuggled him food from the dining hall, kept him company, and stayed awake all night, laughing and talking. The next morning, he still couldn’t leave as the hostel superintendent was sitting in her office next to the main door, and the girls said that, burkha notwithstanding, she’d notice he was a guy. He had to wait till the afternoon. The superintendent went out, and the girls rushed him downstairs and out of the hostel door. But it wasn’t over. The guard saw him striding down the hostel path towards the gate and accosted him. ‘Who did you come to meet?’ the guard asked him. ‘Sita,’ he said in a high falsetto. ‘And who do you think you are? Ram? Haraam zaada.’ The guard ripped the veil off his face. There was only one thing to be done. Arnav lifted his burkha and sprinted towards the hostel gate. He was a runner; the pursuing guard didn’t stand a chance. He whizzed through the gate, where fate favoured him in the form of another IIT guy who was sitting on his motorcycle, waiting for his girlfriend. ‘Khanna, man, get me out of here,’ he exclaimed, and leapt astride the bike, burkha and all. Khanna rose to the occasion, started the bike and they were off. Mallika laughed so much during this retelling that tears were running down her cheeks and she almost dropped her ice cream. Arnav knew then that ice cream wasn’t what he had wanted; he had wanted her laughter. Of course, he hadn’t told Mallika that Radha was the one who had entertained him all night in the LSR hostel and smuggled food from the dining hall for him, nor that she had landed up at IIT the next day. He found Radha next to him as he was half-dozing between classes on the lawn in the winter sunshine. Within a week, she was in his bed. And now, a year later, out of it. When they arrived Madhu Aunty, Anu Aunty, and Padma Aunty were sitting in the veranda of Madhu Aunty’s house, looking grim. They walked to the veranda and said their namastes. ‘Mallika, that Mrs Mittal came home to pick a fight with me,’ Mallika’s mother said. Mallika looked pale. ‘Why, Ma?’ ‘Because she’s gone mad. She said you stole her puppy.’ Arnav looked at Mallika incredulously, then schooled his expression. ‘Some insect she has in her brain about Mallika,’ Anu Aunty said. ‘Bekaar woman,’ Madhu Aunty said. ‘Saying she will call police. I said, “Call, call.”’ He saw that Mallika had become even paler. ‘Arre, Mallika, do not look worried,’ Anu Aunty said. ‘She cannot do anything.’ ‘Look,’ exclaimed Madhu Aunty, pointing. A policeman was striding towards them, baton in hand, as though on a mission to destroy evil. A heavy woman was panting and groaning like a goods train behind him, and a plump twelve-year-old boy was beside her, pointing to Mallika and wailing, ‘b****y thief, she’s a b****y thief!’ Mallika was looking sick. Arnav and Mallika sat on the two remaining veranda chairs next to each other. ‘She thinks she will win.’ Madhu Aunty was now in full throttle. ‘She will never win against me, never.’ Arnav had seen the policeman before. He was from the local police station. These days he was often seen making the rounds of the colony. He’d threatened to arrest a fourteen-year-old boy whom he’d seen tearing off the ‘India is Indira, Indira is India’ poster from one of the shops in the market. The Emergency suited his temperament: he spent a lot of time scaring the s**t out of whomever he could. The trio arrived at the veranda. ‘She,’ Mrs Mittal declared, pointing to Mallika. ‘She is the one who stole my puppy. Just now you arrest her.’ Shit, he thought, Mallika had done it. But the policeman wasn’t looking at Mallika. He was gazing at her mother as though he’d seen a vision of the Goddess Durga herself. He flung his baton into the flowerpots and threw himself at Mallika’s mother’s feet. ‘Sampat Bhaiyya, no need, no need, please get up, get up now,’ Mallika’s mother protested. Sampat Bhaiyya refused to get up. He was murmuring things at her feet like a mantra. When he eventually rose, he explained, ‘Both my sons have got into best English medium school.’ He then did a namaste with his head bowed down, as though he were in a temple and she were the deity. ‘Very good, excellent,’ Mallika’s mother said. ‘Give them our blessings.’ ‘You both give them, Madam. They will come with sweets, and you both give them blessings.’ Mrs Mittal pointed to Mallika and shrieked, ‘She is the thief who stole our puppy!’ The policeman glanced at Mallika and did a double take. Then he threw himself at Mallika’s feet. ‘No, no, no.’ Mallika leapt out of her chair. ‘Please get up, please get up.’ ‘Only because of your mother and you my children have had success,’ he said. He got up, smiling beatifically. ‘Very good news, I am very happy.’ Mallika’s face was red. Finally, the policeman turned to Mrs Mittal. ‘Hanji?” he said disinterestedly. ‘What hanji?’ Mrs Mittal shrieked. ‘She’s the one – three times I am telling you.’ ‘Madam, ten times if you tell me, then also I will never believe. Hundred times if you tell me, then also I will never believe. Because such a thing cannot be.’ The boy, Chotu, began to wail. ‘Keep quiet,’ Madhu Aunty shouted, and Chotu’s cry cut off midway. By now several neighbours had gathered to watch the drama being enacted on the veranda. The policeman was playing centre stage. He turned to face his audience and gestured to Mallika’s mother, ‘She is Bari Saraswati.’ Then he gestured towards Mallika. ‘She is Choti Saraswati. Because of their tutoring, my sons have got admission into best English medium school. They have put their life into my children. Such pure hearts they have. Everyone knows.’ Then he turned to the fuming Mrs Mittal. ‘And you, Madam, you are talking of Choti Saraswathi stealing your puppy? Madam, leave it, all this. If you want, you can go to police station to register complaint. Certainly go. Go, most welcome. But I know truth from falsity. That much even I know.’ He turned to Mallika’s mother. ‘Namaste, Madam.’ He turned to Mallika. ‘Namaste, Madam. My children, they will see you next time with sweets.’ He turned to the audience of neighbours and did another namaste. Then he picked up his baton from the flowerpots and, without a glance at Mrs Mittal, made a superb exit. That should have been the end of the open-air drama, but it was only Act I. ‘She’s a b****y thief, she stole my puppy!’ Chotu shouted, rushing towards Mallika. Arnav leapt up, took Chotu by the collar, and dumped him on the veranda steps. ‘Don’t move.’ ‘Don’t you dare touch my son,’ Mrs Mittal screamed. ‘Keep your mouth shut,’ Madhu Aunty screamed back. Mrs Mittal shrieked at Mallika, ‘We saw you, don’t deny, we saw you!’ By now even more neighbours had gathered to watch and listen. ‘Mrs Mittal, don’t talk such nonsense,’ Mallika’s mother said calmly. Mallika spoke. ‘You saw me walking across the street. That is all. But I saw how Chotu kept kicking the puppy. I heard the puppy howling in pain. You didn’t even stop your son.’ There were sounds of outrage from the audience. Ah, Arnav thought, as things began falling into place. ‘Liar,’ Mrs Mittal shouted. ‘Like mother, like daughter.’ There was an electric silence. ‘And what is that supposed to mean?’ Madhu Aunty said dangerously, rising from her chair. ‘No values, that Mallika has, bilkul besharam,’ said Mrs Mittal. They were talking in rapid-gunfire Punjabi. Madhu Aunty said, ‘Besharam? There is no one more besharam than you. The whole world knows what a good, honest girl Mallika is. And you are talking of her stealing! Kamaal hain! As for Mallika’s mother, she earns her own living, her money is clean. Not like your father’s tainted income tax money. Everyone knows your brainless son got into that school only because your father gave the school so much of his dirty money. Go tell the police. I also have plenty to tell the police about your corrupt income tax father.’ ‘My puppy!’ yelled Chotu. ‘She stole my puppy.’ ‘You were kicking the puppy,’ Arnav said to Chotu, wagging his finger. ‘I’ve reported you to the SPCA.’ ‘Yes, SPCE,’ Madhu Aunty said with relish. ‘Special Police.’ ‘Special police for dogs?’ Mrs Mittal said, trying to muster up scorn. Someone in the audience laughed. ‘Special Police for Cruelty to Animals during the Emergency,’ he improvised. ‘SPCAE.’ Several people in the audience clapped. ‘Anything they can arrest you for during Emergency,’ Madhu Aunty said. ‘Battameez.’ Mrs Mittal went to the steps, pulled up her son, and stormed off. Madhu Aunty brushed her hands together as though to say ‘I’m done with you both.’ The audience burst into applause. Arnav was enjoying himself hugely. This was better than any play in which he’d acted. Madhu Aunty addressed the audience. ‘You believe it? That our Mallika stole their puppy?’ ‘Impossible!’ ‘How can Mallika do such a thing!’ ‘Too many lies she tells, that Mrs Mittal.’ Uttering their support for Mallika, the audience slowly began to leave. No doubt they could all see Mallika’s innocence writ across her, Arnav thought. There she sat, quiet, in her mustard and red silk saree, her hair in a long plait, a big bindi on her forehead, and large bruised eyes. Even that bygone film star, Meena Kumari, the Queen of Tragedies, had never looked so sinned against. ‘Bechari, just look at her! As though she is capable of such a thing!’ one of the neighbours said, echoing his thoughts. ‘Chalo,’ said Madhu Aunty triumphantly. ‘Let us have chai.’ He said his namastes, told Madhu Aunty no tea this time, he had to go home. ‘Thank you,’ Mallika whispered as soon as the aunties went in. They went down the veranda steps together and stopped at his bike. She looked at him uncertainly. ‘Mallika,’ he said, his hand on his heart. ‘I swear I’ll be your partner in crime anytime, anywhere.’ She laughed, then looked away. He saw it then. ‘Bye,’ she said, giving him the jacket that she’d worn. ‘Bye.’ It was so clear now. How had he not seen it before? Mallika was shy.