Outside, A MARE NEIGHED. Guleri recognised the neighing and an out
of the house. The mare was from her parents’ village. She put her head against
its neck as if it were the door of her father's house.
Guleri's parents lived in Chamba. A few
miles from her husband's village which was on high ground, the road curved and
descended steeply down-hill. From this point one could see Chamba lying a long
way away at one's feet. Whenever Guleri was homesick she would take her husband
Manak and go up to this point. She would see the homes of Chamba twinkling in
the sunlight and would come back with her heart aglow with pride.
Once every year, after the harvest had
been gathered in, Guleri was allowed to spend a few days with her parents. They
sent a man to Lakarmandi to bring her back to Chamba. Two of her friends too,
who were also married to boys outside Chamba, came home at the same time of the
year. The girls looked forward to this annual meeting, when they spent many
hours every day talking about their experiences, their joys and sorrows. They
went about the streets together. Then there was the harvest festival. The girls
would have new dresses made for occasion. They would have their duppattas dyed,
starched and sprinkled with mica. They would buy glass bangles and silver
ear-rings.
Guleri always counted the days to the
harvest. When autumn breezes cleared the skies of the monsoon clouds she
thought of little besides her home in Chamba. She went about her daily chores�fed the cattle, cooked food for her
husband's parents and then sat back to work out how long it would be before
someone would come for her from her parent's village. And now, once again, it
was time for her annual visit. She caressed tte mare joyfully, greeted her
father's servant Natu, and made ready to leave next day.
Guleri did not have to put her excitement
into words: The expression on her face was enough. Her husband, Manak pulled at
his hookah and closed his eyes. It seemed like either as if he did not like the
tobacco, or that he could not bear to face his wife."You will come to the fair at Chamba,
won't you?""come even if it is only for the
day", she pleaded.Manak put aside his chillum but did not
reply.
"Why don't you answer me?" asked
Guleri in little temper. "Shall I tell you something?"
"I know what you are going to say: 'I
only go to my parents once a year!' well, you have never been stopped
before.""Then why do you want to stop me this
time?" she demanded."Just this time" pleaded Manak."Your mother has not said anything.
Why do you stand in my way?" Guleri was childishly stubborn."My mother..." Manak did not
finish his sentence.
On the long awaited morning, Guleri was
ready long before dawn. She had no children and therefore no problem of either
having to leave them with her husband parents or taking them with her. Natu
saddled the mare as she took leave of Manak's parents. They patted her head and
blessed her.
"I will come with you for a part of
the way", said Manak.Guleri was happy as they set out. Under
her dupatta she hid Manak's flute.After the village of Khajiar, the road
descended steeply to Chamba. There Guleri took out the flute from beneath her
duppatta and gave it to Manak. She took Manak's hand in hers and said, "
come now, play your flute!" But Manak, lost in his thoughts paid no heed.
"Why don't you play your flute?" asked Guleri, coaxingly. Manak
looked at her sadly, then, putting the flute to his lips, he blew a strange
anguished wail of sound.
"Guleri, do not go away", he
begged her. "I ask you again, do not go this time". He handed her
back the flute, unable to continue.
"But why?" she asked. "You
come over on the day of the fair and we will return together. I promise you, I
will not stay behind".
Manak did not ask again.
They stopped by the road-side. Natu took
the mare a few paces ahead to leave the couple alone. It crossed Manak's mind
that is was this time of the year, seven years ago, that he and his friends had
come on this very road to go to the harvest festival in Chamba. And it was at
this fair that Manak had first seen Guleri and they had bartered their hearts
to each other. Later, managing to meet alone, Manak remembered taking her hand
and telling her, "you are like unripe corn�full of milk".
"Cattle go for unripe corn",
Guleri had replied, freeing her hand with a jerk. "Human beings like it
better roasted. If you want me, go and ask for my hand from my father".
Amongst Manak's kinsmen it was customary
to settle the bride-price before the wedding. Manak was nervous because he did
not know the price Guleri's father would demand from him. But Guleri's father
was prosperous and had lived in cities. He had sworn that he would not take
money for his daughter, but would give her to a worthy young man of a good family.
Manak, he had decided, answered these requirements and very soon after, Guleri
and Manak were married. Deep in memories, Manak was roused by Guleri's hand on
his shoulder.
What are you dreaming of?" she teased
him.
Manak did not answer. The mare neighed
impatiently and Guleri thinking of the journey ahead of her, arose to leave.
"Do you know the blue-bell wood a couple of miles from here"? she
asked, "it is said that anyone who goes through it becomes deaf".
Yes
"It seems to me as if you had passed
through the bluebell wood; you do not hear anything that I say".
"You are right, Guleri. I cannot hear
anything that you are saying to me" replied Manak with a deep sigh.
Both of them looked at each other. Neither
understood the other's thoughts.
"I will go now. you had better return
home. you have come a long way", said Guleri genuly.
"you have walked all this distance.
Better get on the mare", replied Manak.
"Here, take your flute"
"You take it with you".
"Will you come and play it on the day
on the fair?" asked Guleri with a smile. The sun shone in her eyes Manak
turned his face away Guleri perplexed, shrugged her shoulders and took the road
to Chamba. Manak returned to his home.
Entering the house, he slumped listless,
on his charpoy
"You have been away a long
time", exclaimed his mother. "Did you go all the way to Chamba?"
"not all the way; only to the top of
the hill". Manak's voice was heavy.
"Why do you croak like an old
woman", asked his mother severely. "Be a man".
Manak wanted to retort, "You are a
woman; why don't you cry like one for a change!" But he remained silent
Manak and Guleri had been married seven
years, but she had never borne a child and Manak's mother had made a secret
resolve: "I will not let it go beyond the eighth year".
This year, true to her decision, she had
paid Rs. 500 to get him a second wife and now she had waited, as Manak knew,
for the time when Guleri went to her parents to bring in the new bride.
Obedient to his mother and to custom,
Manak's body responded to the new woman. But his heart was dead within him.
In the early hours of one morning he was
smoking his chillum when an old friend happened to pass by. "Ho Bhavani,
where are you going so early in the morning?"
Bhavani stopped. He had a small bundle on
his shoulder. "Nowhere in particular", he replied evasively.
"You must be on your way to some
place or the other", exclaimed Manak. "What about a smoked?"
Bhavani sat down on his haunches and took the chillum from Manak's hands.
"I am going to Chamba for the fair", he replied at last.
Bhavani's words pierced through Manak's
heart like a needle.
"Is the fair today?"
"It is the same day every year",
replied Bhavani drily. "Don't you remember, we were in the same party
seven years ago?" Bhavani did not say any more but Manak was conscious of
the other man's rebuke and he felt uneasy. Bhavani put down the chiluum and
picked up his bundle. His flute was sticking out of the bundle. Bidding Manak
farewell, he walked away. Manak's eyes remained on the flute till Bhavani disappeared
from view.
Next afternoon when Manak was in his
fields he saw Bhavani coming back but deliberately he looked the other way. He
did not want to talk to Bhavani or hear anything about the fair. But Bhavani
came round the other side and sat down in front of Manak. His face was sad,
lightless as a cinder.
"Guleri is dead", said Bhavani
in a flat voice.
"What?"
"When she heard of your second
marriage, she soaked her clothes in kerosene and set fire to them".
Manak, mute with pain, could only stare
and feel his own life burning out.
The days went by. Manak resumed his work
in the fields and ate his meals when they were given to him. But he was like a
man dead, his face quite blank, his eyes empty.
"I am not his spouse",
complained his second wife. "I am just someone he happened to marry".
But quite soon she was pregnant and
Manak's mother was well pleased with her new daughter-in-law. She told Manak
about his wife's condition, but he looked as if he did not understand, and his
eyes were still empty.
His mother encouraged her daughter-in-law
to bear with her husband's moods for a few days. As soon as the child was born
and placed in his father's lap, she said, Manak would change.
A son was duly born to Manak's wife; and
his mother, rejoicing, bathed the boy, dressed him in fine clothes and put him
in Manak's lap. Manak stared at the new born baby in his lap. He stared a long
time uncomprehending, his face as usual, expressionless. Then suddenly the
blank eyes filled with horror, and Manak began to scream. "take him
away!" he shrieked hysterically, "Take him away! He stinks of
kerosene.
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