TRANSLATED FROM THE HINDI BY AYUSHEE ARORA

 

“Bhabhi ji, this is Dinesh speaking. I need to speak to Arun, urgently, but his phone is not reachable.”

“You may try his alternate number. But what is the matter? You sound worried, hope all is well.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Bhabhi ji. Thanks. Namaste.”

“I’ll talk to you later?” What could it be? Could it be a personal matter, a family matter, or a matter between friends, or something else entirely? A feeling of restlessness, anxiety bubbled up in her chest. It was most likely not something that was ordinary, else Dinesh would not have been so worried. Should she call Arun and ask him? All the friends had a Whatsapp group where all familial and celebratory details were shared. The group served as a useful reminder for birthdays, anniversaries, and occasionally deaths in the families of the participants too. Arun checked the Whatsapp group every morning. He also messaged everyone, and chit-chatted with them. The Whatsapp group had brought a rejuvenating wave of emotions, news, and interpersonal relationships into Arun’s life. Arun found the novelty he was constantly on the lookout for, in the group. His mind, always racing ahead, thrived in this new domain. He kept himself busy pondering over where to visit next, to celebrate a friend’s birthday, or the 75th birthday of the parent of a friend. Arun seemed to be caught up in a constant sway of love, joy, a sense of belonging, and exhilaration. But what dire news was this, that hadn’t made its way to the Whatsapp group?

“Dinesh called. Did you manage to speak to him?”

“Yes, I did. A huge problem has arisen.” Arun’s voice was tinged with sadness and worry.

“What problem? Whose problem?!”

“The same Altaaf, whose house we stayed at, in Farzana’s nephew’s house, he has turned his parents out of the house after beating them brutally.”

“Why?! And after hitting them brutally too? What must’ve transpired, that things came to this?”

“I have no answer for why it happened. Household problems. I’ll speak to you later.”

“Who turns out the parents just because of household issues? What will happen to them now?

Where are they? How are they? Have they informed the police or not?”

“Poor Hamida auntie has a problem in one foot. She’s trapped from all sides, and reduced to helplessness. Nothing is in her hands. She spent all her savings on helping him open up his resort.”

“What does Dinesh want? He’s there, right?”

“All of us are deliberating how we can help these two. Farzana was my classmate. She trusted me implicitly. After her leaving, the whole family scattered.”

“What can you all do, sitting here?”

“That’s exactly what we are wondering.”

Arun called all the members of the group and said, “We must do whatever we possibly can to help Hamida auntie. Everyone, think and get back to me in an hour.”

“Where are they currently?”

“At Dinesh’s house. But how long can they stay with Dinesh? His own family is made up of 7-8 members.”

“Then?”

“As of now, I am sending 20,000 rupees across.”

“How will that help?”

“It’ll help them get by, for a little while at least.”

“Dinesh, how much will a rented accommodation cost there?”, Arun enquired.

“Three- four thousand per month. Maybe even more. We’ll also have to probably give an advance deposit.”

“As of now, all of us will collectively transfer the amount for one year’s worth of rent. I’ve informed everyone, and have also shared your account details.”

“All right. Both of them are in a state of shock. They’ve worn themselves out by crying.”

“Hamida auntie and Gafur uncle should in no way feel that we are taking pity on them, or showing them sympathy. She is a self-respecting, hardworking and assiduous woman. Gafur uncle will also do something or the other.”

“But how long will these funds last? Slowly, they will dry out. Then? Right now, we’re giving the money. But who’ll give it for an entire lifetime?”, she said to Arun.

“So should we not give it, and just let them starve on the streets?”

“By all means, give it. You should give it also. If you people will not support them, then who else will? But they need to do something to eke out a living. Some work or the other. They’ll also feel good, if they are productive, and doing some work.”, she explained to Arun.

Arun started thinking. He agreed with Nanda that money alone wasn’t the solution to the problem. A permanent fix must be thought of. 

“Speak to them once. It is a question of their entire life, after all. Even if tomorrow Altaf realizes the error of his ways, and gets them back, they should still have an independent income.”

“Dinesh, put me on the phone with Gafur uncle.”

On hearing Arun’s voice, Gafur broke down and exclaimed while sobbing, “What sins is Allah punishing him for? We never thought he would turn coat like this. Everything is ruined. What will we do? Where will we go? Allah will never forgive him!”

“Uncle, don’t worry. We are all here.”

“That is true….”

“Is there any work you can do?”

“Will it be possible to run around, given my advanced age?”

“Not work that involves running around. Perhaps you can run a shop that sells eggs and other necessities. Something small that you and your wife can manage easily. Not only will you be busy and fulfilled, but will also be financially independent and self-sufficient.”

Gafur started thinking. Where would the shop come from? Where would the money come from? If it wasn’t successful the funding would be wasted. Poor kids. In his childhood, Arun was often to be found at Hamida and Gafur’s house. He was Farzana’s classmate. Eid and Bakri Eid seemed to feel his personal festivals. Hamida used to tie a rakhi to Arun’s father, who in turn loved Hamida like his own sister. This was that year when the children had just finished school, and were leaving the confines of the village, to make their future in the sprawling streets of the cities. Arun had moved away from the village, but he had never let this family stray far from his heart. His desire for Farzana had always stayed constant. 

Nanda, Arun’s wife, was making tea. The TV was turned on to the news. Because of stone pelting between two factions, the environment was stressful. Rooves with piles of stones and broken glass bottles were being shown. The other news was sensational. A minor girl had been brutally gang raped, and then killed. Two accused people- Irfan and Zubaid had been arrested. The environment was volatile. Accompanied by the Human Rights Body, the Chief Minister visited the victim’s house, and also called an emergency meeting. 

It was eight o’clock at night. This was the time when Arun’s mother usually watched the daily soaps. But Arun was still caught up trying to figure things out on the Whatsapp group. 

“Dinesh, look at some small shop where Gafur uncle and Hamida auntie can sell eggs, bread, butter, and other daily groceries.”

Dinesh was still under duress. The reason for this duress was the ugly way in which the couple had been displaced. Everyone who knew the entire story, was still reeling from the shock of it all. 

Nanda changed the TV channel. Different spokespersons and representatives from various political parties were arguing in a cacophonous manner. Accusations were being levied that a lot of mosques had artifacts that were remnants of temples, and subsequently leading to an erasure of history, language and culture. The people from the political parties were least interested in the progress of the children, but more concerned with the state of the country. This supposed concern for the country was eating them alive. Incidents of communal violence, fighting and Love Jihad were being highlighted. This blame game and yelling competition would have continued, had Arun not screamed to turn the TV off. 

“These self-proclaimed godmen, religious fanatics and politicians in cities have no clue how people living in the far-off corners of the country have no idea how people treat each other. They just pretend. Their hypocrisy makes me sick.”

“Why are you getting so worked up? You know the TV channels just do it to increase their ratings. You drink your tea.”, Nanda said, while switching off the TV.

“Dinesh has found the shop. We have also managed to collectively raise the rent for one year.”

“That is good. Now they’ll be busy. This is what I was hoping for since the start itself.”

“How much more money will we need?”

“Approximately one lac rupees.” Dinesh was explaining the logistics and mathematics over the phone.

“Now we just have to ensure that Altaf doesn’t find his way there. We will also reassure Hamida auntie that as long as we are alive, they need not worry.”

“The house has been stocked with rations. Bedding and clothes have also been arranged. I had a spare stove and cylinder, which I’ve given to them. Now they are happy in their own home. Arun, so many people have come forward to help them. A lot of people love Gafur uncle and Hamida auntie. I’m worried that they might beat up Altaf, in their anger. “

“Yes, barring a few people, everyone has come forward to help. They are saying that Altaf has washed his hands off the responsibility of taking care of his old parents, and is now living a life of ease.”

“I’ll take care of him, don’t worry. I used to stay quiet out of regard for Farzana, but as soon as she passed away, he has shown his true colours.” Arun was finally worry- free. The last few days seemed to be full of just calls and coordination. Gafur uncle and Hamida auntie’s faces seemed to constantly swim before his eyes.

Then, on another day, while he was getting ready to go out, Farzana’s daughter Arshi called him. She was in Bhopal, and doing a course in nursing. She was staying in an old and dilapidated colony as a paying guest. Farzana was the one who had given Arun’s number to her, so that she could have conversations with him occasionally.

“Uncle…”

“What is it, beta?”

“Uncle!” She was hiccupping and sobbing hysterically. 

“I never thought that my maternal uncle could do this? What has happened to him?”

“Beta, don’t worry. Your grandparents are safe. You focus on your studies. Now you only have to take care of them.”

“What would have happened, had you people not been here?”

“Beta, what are you saying? We are not strangers. Your grandparents have always showered so much affection on us. We practically spent our childhoods there eating guavas, mangoes and mulberries. I practically grew up in that house.”

“I want to go. Me spending Eid with them will also make them feel better. “

“Did your mother never tell you what Altaf wanted?”

“Mother spent all her money investing into his resort, thinking that they’d all live there together. Rest, I don’t know, uncle.”

“All right, let it be. When do you want to go?”

“Tomorrow night.”

Arun promptly bought some fruits, dry fruit and some clothes, and turned up at Arshi’s house.

“Uncle, you will be troubled. I always take this bus only.”

“Still knowing that you are going alone, how can I let that happen? You send your address and location.”, Nanda said. Searching this way, both of them reached Arshi’s house. The street was full, with cramped houses and stalls packed everywhere. The street was either grimy, or deluged in darkness.”

“Arshi stays in such a dirty place?” Nanda asked while casting her eyes all around.

“Uncle, I’m sorry but I can’t call you here. The landlord does not like it if anyone comes to visit. He asks a lot of unnecessary questions, and gets suspicious too.”

“We are standing outside. Near the flower shop.”

After waiting for about fifteen minutes, the two of them saw a frail, thin girl walking towards them, holding a bag and packet, and dragging her feet.

“Uncle!”, Arshi called.

“Do you eat anything or not?”, Nanda asked laughingly.

“I do eat, aunty. Whatever I can manage to get”, Arshi replied while laughing,

While she was laughing, her teeth were looking very pearly white and beautiful. Her eyes seemed to be gleaming like lamps. She was genuinely looking very pretty.

“Uncle, so much stuff?”, Arshi had to go and keep the newly acquired stuff also.

“Give this to your grandparents from our side.”, Arun said, while tenderly stroking her hair.

“Call once you reach. Console your grandparents, and motivate them. Tell them that till we are alive. They need not worry. We will come see them very soon. Enjoy Eid and celebrate it well.”

“Yes.”, Arshi said, while sitting down in her seat.

On reaching home, Arun heaved a sigh of relief.

“It was a good thing that we went and met Arshi.”

“I don’t know what is happening to this country, to the people. When did children become so self-centred? Seeing Altaf’s face, no one would have thought that he is carrying such sin and evil within him.”, Arun said angrily.

“Let it be. Now anyway everything is okay.”

“How can I let it be, Nanda? He raised a hand against his parents, reduced their efforts of a lifetime to rubble, and made them homeless.”

“You did whatever you could. Even in the future, all will be well.”, Nanda said, effectively ending that particular topic of discussion.”

“Put on the news.”

“The news will have the same old rubbish- arguments, allegations and abuses.”

“Still, we should at least know.”

In a particular province of the country, an incident of mob lynching was being animatedly discussed and debated. The city was facing a hostile environment. The markets and shops were closed. The police were giving assurances. It was unlikely that the injured person would survive. The family members of the victim were protesting. Political parties were claiming unity. 

“Uff, is this all people can do nowadays? Has no one got any tangible, useful work to do?”

“If only there was some tangible, useful work to be found.”, Nanda said, irritated.

“Why, if Hamida auntie and Gafur uncle can work at their age, why can’t these lazy, good for nothings work? They should do whatever work they can. They just form large crowds and gather everywhere.

“Because all of you supported them. Who is there to support these people?”, Nanda asked, with dangerously loud decibels. Arun was well aware of the fact that Nanda could easily deliver a two-hour long monologue on this particular topic.

“Okay, change the topic, and call Arshi”, Arun said to Nanda.

“Yes uncle, there is no problem. You please don’t worry. I’ll call you in the morning. Ok uncle. Goodnight. You please go to bed now, uncle.  It’s 2:30 AM, and you are still awake, worrying about me! As long as I have your support, I can never be alone. Goodnight, uncle. Khuda hafiz.”

But Arun was looking at the hands of the clock, calculating when it would be morning, when Arshi would reach home, so that he could ask about everyone’s well-being.

 

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Also, read Forgetting is Not Really a Decision by Jaishree Roy, translated from the Hindi by Rituparna Mukherjee and published in the Antonym:

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