TRANSLATED FROM THE HINDI BY SHIVANI YADAV

 

Girls are as delicate as a piece of cotton. They are taught domestic chores early on in life so that they remain inside the house. Just like how one adorns oneself with jewelry and makeup, girls are taught to adorn their family and house. It’s not right to jump around unnecessarily. Now, let’s go inside the house.’ She remembers how her Dadi used to grab her hand away from her group of friends and would always end up saying something along those lines while dragging her back home.

Whenever she pouted about wanting to play with her Bhaijaan, she got a scolding in response from the women of the house.

“Women of the house” … That is how members of a household were counted in a joint family. There were four women in the house around Ammi’s age and there were many women younger and older than that. This was how the rest of the relationships were like as well.

‘He’s a boy. Roaming around in the outside world, making his identity, earning name, fame and money, that is his job. That world is not for you, beta. You should be learning how to cook and maintain relationships. That will help you in future.’– She’d feel sad, and despite longing to go outside, she had to resign herself to sitting next to the window and watching everyone else play.

‘From a young age, my mind was being filled with such things. Every woman in the house would leave no stone unturned to train me into becoming a well-mannered girl. They too must have been handed over needle and a thread in their childhood. A tilledaar must been hired to teach karigari, the craftsmanship, of pashmina and embroidery…. Huh.’ She was muttering sitting alone.

‘Go to school. Study hard. Just beautifying the house, getting dressed up and wooing the husband won’t be enough, like it was in our day. The world is changing. Merely becoming a wife and staying in the house won’t work. Get a good education. It will come in handy in these changing times.’ She didn’t know when Ammi said this, but each word proved to be true with the passage of time.

‘We should send our daughter outside to get higher education.’ It was Ammi who gathered the courage to bring this topic up to Abbu after my schooling ended.

‘Why shall we send her outside when there are great colleges in our own soil?’ She was prepared for this question.

‘Here half of the time there’s a curfew in place. How will she then complete her studies? We should not let our daughter become a victim of any political party, and we should also prevent her from getting mixed up with the wrong crowd and becoming a stone-pelter. She shouldn’t destroy her life by getting entangled in nonsensical issues. She should just complete her education. By then Mr. Ashfaq would come back as well and then we can get them both married.’ Abbu agreed with Ammi’s train of thought.

‘Men are so strange… Abbu never liked anything his wife had to say, so there was no question of listening to or agreeing with her. But when it came to his child, he readily listened and agreed to that same woman.’ She was thinking out loud.

‘Where are you thinking of sending Zeenat to?’

‘When Abbu asked this question instead of refusing, I became very happy, but Ammi could sense where the conversation was headed.’

‘She should be sent to Delhi.’

‘Why Delhi? Any special reason?’ Abbu retorted.

‘Their conversation was becoming more serious. I was at an age when doing something new or going far away from home alone brought more excitement than fear and worries. More than difficult, it was boring for me to sit there that day and participate in their conversation.’ She smirked as she remembered. Truth of the matter was that to avoid boredom, when Ammi-Abu were laying down plans for her future, she had shifted her attention to imagining living her life with freedom, alone in a new city. Sure, there was some fear, but she’d get freedom as well. While there was a sense of nervousness and insecurity, countless opportunities to become independent were also waiting for her. Her happiness had no bounds.

‘Today she’ll go there to study and will understand how things work there. Tomorrow, she will settle down in a big city with Ashfaq, so it’d be good to start preparing from today itself.’ Abbu probably internally wanted the same thing as well.

‘Soon, all the preparations from admission to the departure were done and then the day came when I walked towards the new world, on my own, alone. While Ammi was sad, I couldn’t forget what she said to me during departure.’ This time her smile disappeared.

‘Is any mother capable of making such dreadful wishes as Ammi did for me?’– For years she pondered over this thought.

‘I even picked apart teachings and scoldings from my childhood and managed to find hatred in Ammi’s teachings. I had started weighing her entire existence based on a few words uttered by her…’

‘I want you to complete your education. I spent my entire life imprisoned in my own home. Don’t let that happen to yourself. In any case, it’s always been the woman who has had to pay the price. This is what has always happened. That is why you should understand that for your part, it’ll be you who will be paying the price. It’ll be best if you start preparing from now.’ Ammi was explaining to her.

‘Prepare how, Ammi?’ I asked naively. Obviously, I was innocent at the time. After all, how much life experience does a first-year college girl have.’

‘What is Begum teaching our girl just as she’s going?’

‘Abbu saved me from those unnecessary lessons being poured into my ears. Unnecessary lessons… Yes, well, it felt like it that day. Advice feels unnecessary when one doesn’t possess the perspective of foresight. Regardless, that day it didn’t feel bad to part with Ammi after the hatred that emerged from those new lessons.’ She closed her eyes for some time and clenched her lips tightly. Soon she came back to her normal self. Only permanence remains, dishonesty in character or misunderstandings between relationships, in the end, finishes away.

“‘It has always been the woman who has had to pay the price… It’s best to start preparing now.’– Ammi’s words started haunting my very existence. If she knew that I’d have to pay the price, why would she let me take that path in the first place? I kept thinking about that for many years.”

Here she was dreaming up a sweet future when Ashfaq would return to India and she’d welcome him at the Delhi airport, but she couldn’t forget what Ammi said, even if she wanted to.

Her words about Ashfaq were like a prick to my heart. Why did she say that? What had she seen in her future son-in-law… and… and… if she had seen it, why did she keep it to herself? She could have shared her thoughts with Abbu, could have stopped that hateful marriage… Today it seems easier to say things because she is witnessing the situation from afar but that day… Not even that day, but for years after that, for her, Ammi wasn’t the name of heartfelt love. She hated her own mother.

‘Zeenat, how is my sweet girl?’ After talking to Abbu, when she’d shower her with prayers, her sugary sweet voice would hit her like a poisoned arrow. She used to hang up the phone without giving any response. She didn’t know how many times this happened. If it wasn’t for Abbu stopping mid-conversation and forcibly making me talk to Ammi, the basic connection would have been lost as well.

Now, whenever she thinks about it all, it’s easy to understand that the blame wasn’t Ammi’s alone. She was doing as much as she could. Much of the fault was her age and folly.

The date of the Nikah was fixed. Preparations were in full swing on both sides. Ashfaq was about to return. I would fall into a strange euphoria just thinking about my honeymoon. Those were love-filled days… A soft smile graced her face.

‘There was so much love between the two of them. Both of them wanted to be with each other all the time. Nothing can replace one’s own homeland… They had started liking the valley’s atmosphere. Ashfaq didn’t feel like returning to the Arab country alone… Those few days were blissful, but spending many more of such days was not to be. Money had to be earned…’ All the rumination made her head heavy. She tried to shake off the burden, but it stayed put.

‘Pashmina… That’s it! I’ll work with pashmina and make a name for myself in this field.’ Ashfaq wanted to be with Zeenat for as long as possible. He had made up his mind to leave his stable job and start a business.

‘Think about it. Making a business stable and profitable takes time. Your entire youth will go into making a name for yourself.’ Ashfaq had laughed on hearing her suggestion.

‘At least we’ll spend our entire youth together. We were already separated for 25 years, if now we separate for work, when will we live?’

‘Oh, my Lord!… So much love! I should have lived and died in those moments… I was that special to someone once.’ Thinking of this, her face started glowing.

‘This Lord Almighty in Heaven, keeps showing different colors.’ She took a deep breath.

‘Nothing compares to one’s own homeland… Even the water there tastes sweet. This same kahwa when mixed with water would taste like heaven there, and here!’ She frowned. ‘Here I just drink it to tamp down the cravings. Either way, we don’t even go there to look for that taste anymore. It’s like all the flavor from life has gone. Now only dieting is left, or if anything else is left then that is nostalgia.’ She shut the laptop down.

‘Alright, time to let it go. Neither will carpets and pashmina shawls be visible, nor will I remember all that.’ To keep herself away from everything, she closed the door of the cellar of memories and placed a latch.

She started gazing out of the window. A big tree with branches was visible. Its leaves were moving in the wind. Perhaps even the birds were chirping around, but their voices couldn’t reach her through the windowpane. For a while, she continued to aimlessly look at the leaves trembling to the beat of the wind. She had forgotten to lock the cellar of memories and without realizing, found herself again entering the world she often tried to run away from.

Everything was going well when things took a turn. Tourism was abuzz. All the houseboats and hotels were filled with tourists who were also freely spending money on shopping and sightseeing. All was well, but lord knows whose evil eye was on this ‘heaven of earth’. Everything started changing. Every person was being looked at with suspicion. Suddenly the land illuminated by the beauty of poplar trees and famous for giving a great harvest of saffron turned into one with bloody plaintiffs. Curfew was imposed. Locked in homes, amidst daily life, that day Zeenat felt pain rise. Who could she ask for permission to go to the hospital? They weren’t even allowed to keep the doors and windows open. People who stepped outside in need of something were becoming victims of gunshots.

When Ashfaq’s father couldn’t bear his daughter-in-law’s suffering any longer, he opened the door and ran outside to seek help. The sound of fire came from outside, and then silence. Abbu’s body was lying at a short distance from the house, unclaimed. On the one hand, the light of the house was about to take birth, and on the other hand, a few steps away from the house, the body of the patriarch lay cold.

He had had his hands dug deep inside the thick phiran as he ran outside in the cold winter towards the armed forces. He was mistaken for a terrorist and warned to stop at once, but he continued running towards them in hopes of getting some help… That is when the sound of firing rang through the air. In the hands of an expert, one bullet is enough. A bullet fired from a gun doesn’t inquire after one’s caste or religion, it doesn’t discriminate regardless of whether that person is a terrorist or an innocent. The bullet hit the right spot and in the blink of an eye, finished its job.

The baby had tilted and was stuck in the womb. Both the mother and the child’s lives were at stake. The women of the house got together and somehow managed to deliver the baby. Between the state in which the baby was born and the torment the mother and her newly-born daughter went through, Ashfaq’s dream of living in a paradise shattered like a glass palace. The shard of glass that had pierced his heart was so fine that it was impossible to repair it.

‘We won’t live here anymore.’ Ashfaq announced.

‘Where would we go?’ She was shocked.

‘I was anyway about to go to some other place!’

‘Where? Where were you going to go?’ she exclaimed.

Despite repeated inquiries, Ashfaq didn’t answer. Those days, a strange maniacal sensation had taken over his face.

‘I would have gone somewhere else, but now… (After looking at his daughter for some time, he changed his decision.)

‘The place that sells our products overseas. I can manage the work from there or can travel back and forth, but if we move from this place, then we could expand the business. Delhi is the city where if one works with dedication, one can even turn soil into gold.’ She didn’t disagree with a single thing Ashfaq said. It was truly the age of gambling. Both clutched their small daughter to their chest, wrapped up their entire life in bundles and arrived in the city that has been attracting countless people with its magic for centuries.

The thing about Delhi is that once a person enters this city, they never return home. If they had to leave, they left on the flight of progress to abroad. Instead of returning home, they’d accept turning into an expatriate from a migrant. It’s simply a one-way route to Delhi. Here, there’s no such thing as a U-turn or homecoming. They had reached a land where the hot and cold weather mirrored the spirit of its people.  The people there either meet with a warm hug or like a scorching summer sun, there’s no in-between. She had a lot of anecdotes to support this thinking.

‘Regardless of what it may be, the fate of metropolitans is devoid of loyalty. Every man comes here to earn money and weighs the entire metropolis through the eyes of a buyer. Continuously dealing with this sort of thinking leads the metropolis to keep moving on this path far and wide.’ She took a deep breath.

Lord knows what happened to her that day, the more she wanted to get out of the streets of memories, the more her steps moved inside those streets. She was starting to get stuck in this quagmire of memories.

Work was going well. Ashfaq was working hard. Back at home, she’d have calls with Abu, but she had stopped speaking to Ammi. She had not forgiven Ammi. Couldn’t forgive her. Ammi’s sins were increasing. She was living on her land, amongst her people. She had not lived through loneliness. What did she know about living in a strange land, trying to craft an identity amongst strangers, failing at that and getting crushed from defeat? Additionally, whenever worn out from the city life and wanting to go back home, Ammi had some issue with them us returning. This time she made Ashfaq understand that it’s not practical to live and raise their daughter in a place where there’s a curfew majority of the time. She didn’t believe that the situation would get better anytime soon so they should make some arrangements… So, Ashfaq made some arrangements.’ She tensed, thinking about the arrangement.

‘Summers in plains are unbearable for people of the hills. The body would turn into smoke. It is more or less the same today,’ she murmured.

‘It would have been very difficult if this business hadn’t started. It is this business that is putting food on our table and giving us respect in society. Whatever little identity we have for ourselves, it’s all because of the business.’ She’d often find herself being grateful for the time when she agreed to come here.

‘Both of them had worked so hard to establish a stable business. Some of Abbu’s acquaintances did help here and there, but they had to complete the rest of the journey themselves…’ She remembered the struggling days.

‘After dealing with the hustle and bustle of the morning work, Ashfaq would come home, have a couple of morsels of food, only to run back out for work again. He’d return home, bone-tired, in the late evening. Whereas she would spend all day alone managing the household and single-handedly taking care of their daughter without any help. She’d also segregate items from Kashmir, put price tags on them and make bundles according to the place they’d be shipped off to. The city she had studied in had given her insight into the basic taste of the people there. That experience came in handy for her. She’d get tired between separating the items more suitable for Delhi people’s tastes and items to be sent outside. Evenings of those days were spent in dealing with exhaustion and its mornings were spent in showing samples of the goods as per the list, and then to sell the products.’ She opened her eyes and looked around, found herself in her home. She wanted to tell herself that those days were gone now, that now she had a name, her own identity. But she couldn’t say so.

‘Those were different days of drudgery and today’s struggles… Uff!’ She closed her eyes. She knew that she found the circumstances of those days difficult and now she’s finding her present life complicated. She also knew that the difficulties of the bygone days that were preventing her from moving forward, had been left in the past, and the same would happen with the struggles of today. Things never stay the same. With changing times, situations change as well, but till then…

‘People are bargaining on frequently available products. The competition is so high that it is getting difficult to get a fair price.’ Ashfaq would always complain about such things.

‘Something new should be made.’

‘Pashmina is pashmina. What new will you make in that?’ On listening to her response, Ashfaq’s question felt valid at the time.

‘For example, I should try getting a designer shawl made, maybe that’ll work.’ It was as if rainwater poured in from somewhere into a dry river. It felt like it had rained heavily in the mountains, which was in turn filling up the rivers on plains with water.

‘She started off by adding expensive transparent lace on her pashmina stoles. The wealthy section of Delhi society lapped up the stoles with different types of laces. That encouraged her to go ahead and start doing the same with pashmina shawls. She wouldn’t have to export; everything would sell out immediately at the next exhibition. Now she had to do something different, which she did. The dreams both of them had together seemed to be coming true now. She had velvet borders made with Punjab’s tilla work for her pashmina shawls. It was like two beautiful things were mingling and interacting with each other. Lifeless clothes had come to life. She had paid special attention to marketing as well. She created a new design by combining Punjab’s embroidery with Kashmir’s hardworking karigars. She also got the fine details of the yarn and velvet imported from different states written on the price tag of the shawls. At exhibitions, she’d share the smallest of details about the shawl with her customers. This way, due to the integration of artisans from different parts of India, each of their shawls started selling at exorbitant prices nationally and internationally. She had become a part of South Delhi’s rich clientele’s social circle. Everything was going wonderfully.’ A beautiful smile graced her face. At that moment, all signs of stress had vanished from her face.

‘Ammi and Abu would shower us with blessings. Their hearts were filled with joy on seeing their kids’ success and seeing them work hard to keep their compatriots on their own soil and away from terrorism.’

‘My child, you gave employment to your people. Because of you, so many houses get warmth in cold winters. You get so many blessings every day.’ Abbu would often say this. Her connection with Ammi was such that after seeing the designs sent to her, Ammi took on the responsibility of getting differently colored velvet and lace. Sure, a bridge had been built between the mother and daughter, but the deep gorge underneath that bridge still existed.’ The taste in her mouth had become astringent.

‘My little girl, what I did that day was done after a lot of forethought.’ Whenever Ammi would start going on that track, Zeenat would hang up the phone. Even now she would yearn to return to her land, but every time Ammi’s ‘no’ would break her heart.

‘This summer, we’ll go home for a few days.’ Zeenat said to Ashfaq, just like every time, agonizing over the memories of her house.

‘If it were up to me, we’d go there today, but your Ammi doesn’t want to see us there.’ Ashfaq said, annoyed. Even he wanted to escape the scorching summers of Delhi and go to the valley to spend a few days, but he had no one there. To go there, it was important to get the consent of Zeenat’s family, something that often angered him.

Many times, Ashfaq had decided to go there alone for business, but eventually had to let go of the plan because of Ammi. In fact, this is where his irritability for Ammi began.

‘The two of them had planned to go there together a couple of times, but on the day of the departure, reports of curfew being placed in the valley would hit the news. Other times, Ammi would stop their departure by saying that the situation was not under control.’

‘It’s been ten years. Neither have we gone there, nor have you felt like meeting us. If you don’t feel like meeting us then fine, regardless we’re coming.’ She had already told her that.

‘I don’t care what happens this time, nothing in world can stop me from going there.’ Hearing Ashfaq say this to someone on the phone, Zeenat felt nice. Technically, Ashfaq didn’t have any family members left there, but there were still some friends and acquaintances.

‘If Zeenat is going herself, then something truly special must have been designed, which will be brought after a thorough check.’ Like every time, this time as well she was awaiting the new design. She too was about to do something special, after all. As she was getting off the airplane, she found the earthy scent of her land enveloping the air. Each cell of her body started coming to life. Our land, our people… Ammi had made some preparations with a special design on the occasion of her daughter coming home after so long.’ She had placed a cup of kahwa on the table. A lot was going on in her mind, but the speed at which she was rotating like a spinning wheel couldn’t let her out of that puzzle for three years. That is why she and her thoughts had become helpless after reaching here.

She had returned to the land that had given her name and respect in society, this time bringing a brand-new stock. Beautiful, embroidered Kashmiri sarees on which she had had special work done. Beautifully colored and embroidered sarees had once again turned her into a celebrity. Everything was going well. This foreign city had given her an identity through honest and hard work, and this time, had also opened the door for homecoming. Because their daughter had started going to school, she would visit less often, but Ashfaq was a frequent visitor of the valley. His social circle there was beginning to expand. He had started getting calls from new numbers, both national and international. Sometimes his call would go on for a long time and other times, it would end in a minute or two.

She rested her head on the chair, as if wanting to pour out all of her troubles on the lifeless piece of wood. After lying like that for some time, she picked up her mobile phone, which was on silent, and saw Ammi’s missed call. There were also missed calls from Kashmir and Punjab karigars. The person handling exports had also called. In response to all the missed calls, she made only one call, ‘Adaab, Ammi!’

Before Ashfaq’s departure from Delhi, Ammi had said, ‘There’s a curfew-like situation here. He should postpone his decision to come to Kashmir.’ Keeping the phone down, Ashfaq called up one of his identified numbers. After ending the conversation, he hugged Zeenat and kissed his daughter’s forehead saying, ‘Everything is alright, either your mother has gotten used to being unnecessarily worried or she doesn’t want to see me there.’ There was annoyance in his voice.

‘Hello, Ammi.’ Zeenat repeated herself in order to break the silence.

‘Forgive me, my girl… After three years today the news arrived…’ Ammi became silent after saying that.

‘What’s the news, Ammi?’

‘Some people spend their entire lives without being able to formulate their principles. They do not understand the difference between what is right and what is wrong. They do not like a life of peace and happiness.’

‘Ammi, what are you trying to say?’

‘I was always suspicious of the kind of company he kept. When your marriage was arranged, I tried to make others understand, but who listens to a daughter-in-law in a joint family? Either way, I did not have the courage to speak in front of your father… I somehow managed to send you to Delhi for studies. He was sent to Arabia because of the kind of company he kept here. I’d heard that even there his company wasn’t great, but when both of you went to Delhi after the nikah, I felt some relief. I thought that he’d forget about his friends. Whenever he wanted to come to the valley, I said that there’s a curfew in place here. Sometimes it was the truth, sometimes I lied… I had lied that day too.’ Ammi became silent.

‘Now, what’s new in this?’

‘Till now we were assuming that that the innocent must have turned into a victim of some military encounter…’

‘Ammi, stop solving puzzles and tell me what happened?’ It had been three years. Even Zeenat was tired of waiting.

‘He didn’t listen to me… Verbally abused me for the first time… He broke the curfew of politeness and gracefulness; of the way we look at others… The news is confirmed that he was not missing, nor was he caught in an encounter, but he himself crossed the border…’ There was silence on both sides. A curfew-like silence, dangerous as death. This time, the deep gorge between the mother and daughter was filled by the gravel of truth.

‘Zeenat, why would you stay there alone now? Come back, my child… Come back to your soil.’ Amidst the steam of tears, the mother had finally allowed the daughter to return to the land of her dreams.

‘No, Ammi. Now, it’s not possible to return.’

‘Think about it, Zeenat. What if tomorrow he tries to turn you into a pawn. Delhi is the first choice of terrorists.’ The mother warned the daughter.

‘Hmm…’ She was thinking about her future, her daughter’s future.

‘And the government probably came to know about him going outside before even we did. You will also be surveilled. How will you live in that foreign city?’ Mother’s heart was getting scared imagining horrible scenarios.

‘Ammi, this is my homeland now, and I have no need to fear the people you’re telling me about. Actually, by the time we got the news, I had already come under the radar of security agencies. These people will protect me. It is he who should be afraid of contacting me.’ Zeenat hung up the phone. After sitting aimlessly on the chair for some time, she picked up the mobile phone and dialed the same number again.

‘Ammi, for so many years, you kept on asking for my forgiveness when I should be the one apologizing. Forgive me for failing to understand you and for all of my impolite behavior. I’m sorry for not understanding you for so long.’ Hearing what must have been said on the other side, the deep lines on her forehead subsided. This time the curfew was lifted from both sides.

 

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Also, read The Fort and The Sea by Mavji Maheshwari, Translated from The Gujarati by Heli Vora and Manoj Chhaya and published in The Antonym

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