Murmur of the Lonely Brook (11 page)

“I always wanted to have my own shop. And this is close to that.” Pravin smiled.

Gangaram was overjoyed, as this meant a big relief for him. At heart, he was a farmer and he had opened this shop only on his friends’ advice.

“I will be back from my village in a week or ten days time,” said Pravin.

“No problem. When you come back, you can stay in my house. I have an extra room. It’s small, but it will be okay for you.”

“Can I make one request of you? Is it okay if I call Raju to come here? He can be my assistant and I will train him.”

“As you please. From now on, this is your shop and your business.” Ganga smiled.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” said Pravin.

“Please don’t. We are friends and we are both helping each other.”

Pravin left the shop in high spirits. He thanked Devta and decided to offer puja at the village. He went to the stand to look for a shuttle. He met Jay Singh and his Jeep from Sangla. Jay Singh was the brother of Rajdev, who had made a fortune selling illegal diesel fuel, which he procured from the power company’s drivers. There was no service station around and his business flourished. The family was well off and the car was mainly used for servicing the tourists. Occasionally, they also came to pick up goods and supplies for the traders. Jay Singh knew Pravin and greeted him with a smile.

“Do you have space for me?”

“Sure. There are two other passengers, both men, and I don’t think they will object. But you need to wait until the goods are loaded.”

“I will, but join me for tea.”

They both had tea while the porters loaded the sacks and boxes. The two men came in and Jay Singh told them that Pravin was an old friend and wanted a lift. They nodded and Pravin sat on the front next to Jay Singh.

Soon the Jeep left Rampur and hit the uphill road. The road cut across a hill while another ran parallel. Winter was approaching and the fields on both sides of the road wore a desolate look. Crops had been cut and with the soil exposed, the plains reflected shades of brown and gray. With no crops, the villagers left the cattle to graze freely and they searched desperately for the last trace of green. Flocks of birds, mostly pigeons, browsed for leftover grains. Huge bundles of hay and grass lay stacked in places waiting to be hung on roofs or in trees. Only the pines retained their greens while the others stood with their last few leaves fluttering in the breeze. The Sutlej had lost much of its volume and ran in a slim and slender note. The bed of rocks and gravel were now exposed and soaked up the sun.

Pravin knew there was a lot of work at home too. In a month, the family would shift to their winter home, which was a thousand feet down the mountain and much warmer. The cattle would move too. But before that, grass and hay needed to be cut and brought down to feed them. And then there was the pruning of the orchards, collection of firewood, bringing it down, cutting it, and storing it to keep it dry. The bukhari burned almost all day and night during severe cold. Apart from these things, the buckwheat had to be ground, the potatoes harvested and stored, vegetables dried, and much more. He knew this was routine work every year and this year, Nisha was there to help too. If Ganga permitted it, he could return again next month and help them. But he was sure he would miss his village in winter. The snow-covered valley, the fishing in shallow waters, the long gossip sessions, the dry meat preparation, and all that came with the white season.

The car was close to Karcham when Jay Singh made a halt by the side of the river. He lit a bidi and pointed to the rocky face of the opposite hill. He turned back and spoke to the occupants.

“This is the place I told you about. Look above and you will see a long piece of rock cut straight on the sides, but it is fixed. Legend says the Pandavas worked at night and for some reason they couldn’t finish the work.”

Everyone got down from the Jeep and saw the huge pillar-like rock protruding near the top. It was as if a giant cutter had been miraculously carried to the top by someone and that someone had tried to cut a long slab that lay unfinished. One of the passengers, who looked out of place, took out a camera and shot images from many angles. He was awestruck at the sheer size of the rock, the perfect cut and height of the location.

Pravin looked at the hills and the ravines. This was the land of the Pandavas. Though the myths said they stayed here for a year in disguise and appeared only during the night, many still believed they were the true ancestors. In his childhood, teté (Grandpa) treated him with stories from the great epic. And even though he repeated many of them several times, Pravin never felt bored. He knew them by heart and loved to see himself as the middle pandava Arjuna while he saw the two younger brothers in Diwakar. He remembered childhood days when he roamed the hillsides with a bow and arrow and only teté as the solitary and obedient subject in his kingdom.

It was late evening when the Jeep reached Sangla. Earlier they had stopped in Tapri where Pravin had some food. He was tired but the thought of his village kept him awake. He got out of the car with his bags.

“How much do I owe you?”

Jay Singh laughed at him. “You don’t need to pay. Someone has already paid for the trip.” He pointed to the other passengers unloading their goods.

Pravin thanked him and looked for a lift to his village, which was still fourteen kilometers away. But before he could leave, he bought some fresh meat and onions. There was no shuttle that late but then a PWD truck came. He signaled the driver and after throwing his bags in, he got up on the carrier. There were others too. This was common practice in the village, and one only paid five or ten rupees to the driver who happily gave a lift as long as he had room.

The valley opened up as soon as the car took the second bend. A few orchards still awaited plucking and the juicy red apples hung temptingly. The apricot trees, heavy with yellow fruit, swayed leisurely with the evening winds. Cows roamed around munching the roadside bushes and ignoring the thorns. The first few stars blinked beyond the eastern peaks in competition with the half moon that gradually turned dense silver. Pravin glanced at the meadows and listened to the faint yet familiar sound of the Baspa River flowing between the peaks. He felt the chill of the evening wind blowing on his face. This was his home and he longed for the warmth of the bukhari, pancakes, and pickles.

Chapter 11

Shevak was worried. It was becoming difficult to get a decent price for the apples. Quite a few traders bid but their offers were much less then expected. A few of the villagers, hard pressed for money, could not hold on and were accepting less and less. The grader had come earlier and Shevak’s apples were graded medium or poor, making it difficult to bargain for a better price. The highest rate went at five hundred rupees per crate and that was for someone who had agreed to a rate contract earlier. A few traders went for such contracts because sometimes the prices shot up much higher.

The recent roadblock had created another crisis: getting crates and boxes for the apples. And the dealers in Sangla were selling them at a premium. A farmer needs good quality boxes and crates or there will be another deduction. Shevak had some old stock but was waiting for fresh stock to arrive.

Shevak sat at Lalaji’s shop with Naresh, who was confronted with the same problem.

“We can take the apples directly to Shimla,” he said.

“Yes, that’s an option, except that we’ll have to make some payments to the police along the way unless we travel at night when they are not there.”

“You once took apples to Delhi and got a good price.”

“The apples were also good at that time. Still, the price would be far better than the offers we are getting here.”

“Yes, and it would be a good break also. After all, we work all through the year.”

Shevak looked at Naresh, who, like most of the folks, spent his days in leisure while his wife labored in the field and at home. She also fed the cows. Some days he took out the cows and then drank all day, dozing below the shade of some tree. Some days he spent with his brother’s widowed wife and everyone knew he slept with her. And again, like others, he drank every evening.

“But maybe I will travel to Shimla,” Naresh said. “The prices there are not much different than in Delhi.”

Shevak thought about his last trip to Delhi. It had taken almost three days and on the way he had to tip the police twice. But he struck a good deal immediately on arrival, which made him happy. The city with its tall buildings amazed him more, as did the thousands of lights glowing at night. The trader even arranged a city tour for him with one of his employees. He saw all the notable places, including the Kutub Minar, India Gate, Parliament, Red Fort, and the Jantar Mantar. The next two days he roamed alone in the city and the market using the state buses. Everybody had warned him to be careful with money, so he deposited nearly all of it in his bank on the first day. They also advised him not to wear the green topi, as it would give away his identity. He listened to them and was careful.

But on the second day, he came across a tall building and could not resist counting the number of floors. He had never seen such a tall building. He wanted to know how many stories it had so that he could tell everyone in the village. And while he was counting, a crook came and asked for money. He said there was a charge for counting floors. Shevak said he only counted fifteen and at five rupees per floor, the crook took seventy-five rupees from him. But he allowed him to count the rest of them free of charge. Shevak mentioned the incident to a fellow bus passenger and everyone burst into laughter. He did not mind, as it was just a few rupees, but he never told that story to anyone in the village.

Arvind came in a while later. He was visibly upset. His orchard was on the roadside. Some tourists had entered his orchard the day before and picked more apples than they could eat. More than being upset with the tourists, he was upset with the driver, who was a local man. The drivers are supposed to advise tourists and keep them away from trespassing. The villagers are friendly with tourists and they know that a part of the economy depends on them. Often they also take them inside the orchards and allow them to pick a few apples and shoot pictures.

“I will put up an electric fence next year,” he fumed.

“And then the cows will be killed,” Naresh commented.

“Then I will keep a few dogs.”

“Don’t get so upset. It is only a few apples,” said Shevak.

“But they should understand that apples are our bread and butter.”

Arvind left swearing and Shevak also stood up. It was getting dark and with winter near, the evening wind was cold.

***

Parvati felt tired after a full day of work. Both she and Nisha had collected apricots from an orchard two kilometers away. This was a normal walk for her but having spent the whole day bending and squatting, she felt pain in her knees. While Nisha climbed the tree to pick the apricots, Parvati had collected them from the ground and put them on a large spread of cloth. They both sorted the good ones from the bad. The apricots that grew there were a wild variety. While a few good ones were kept for drying to make khomani(dry-fruit), the others were used in brewing liquor. Mixed with apples they provide the sour taste to the finished drink. Nisha spread the ones for drying on the rooftop and they walked back home munching apples and nuts, which she carried with her. On the way, Parvati remembered to stop at a Koli house. A Koli was a low caste; though they did many kinds of support work, they remained untouchables. At the temple their role was restricted to carrying and playing the drums and cymbals.

“Don’t eat or drink anything in this house. They are Kolis.”

Nisha nodded and Parvati went inside. She left a bundle of wool for stitching pajamas and then went back outside.

“Remind me to collect this next week. And if they come to deliver, take it at the gate. They should not be allowed to come inside, particularly into the kitchen.”

“Tomorrow we will stay at home and make poltus. The Lamaji is coming to read his book. We also need a bottle of liquor.”

Lamaji did not refer to anyone in particular. The Tibetans were addressed as Lamajis and anyone could read hymns after they reached a certain age. The puja was performed mostly to bring in peace and sometimes the villagers raised flags with a small twig of pine tied on top of the pole.

Nisha wondered about her old age. She saw Parvati and thought maybe she would also lead a similar life of inhuman labor, toiling in the farms, at home, and someday she would also get old. And if Pravin stayed far away, she would have no one with whom to share her thoughts, her happiness. Maybe life was like this and it was not good to have higher expectations. She should be happy with whatever she got. Maybe someday things would change, perhaps when she had children. Maybe he will come back and settle in the village, and be at her side all the time. She imagined going to the fields with her child and working side by side with Pravin. She felt happy as she walked back home with Parvati.

At home, Ria was agitated. She had discussed her plan with Lila, who had advised her to wait. She said that this kind of thing should not be rushed. And it would be better if the invitation came from him. But Ria could not accept that. She did not have much time; she wanted to know if he was the right man with whom she could plan her future. And then another idea crossed her mind. The school picnic was coming up. Maybe that would give them an opportunity to meet. It was normally organized near the waterfall and the location offered many options. She decided to make another card, and this time she would write a message inside. She would ask him to meet her. But her writing was not good. She needed to find someone to write for her. On the outside, she would ask Nisha to draw a tree and a boy and a girl below it holding hands. She smiled to herself at the thought. And then she would ask her to add a few birds and maybe a dog. She would put on her best dress again and wear the new hairclips and bangles that Nisha had recently given her.

Diwakar was watching a movie on TV. It was one of those days when Ria kept to her room and Shevak sat near the fire. He kept the sound low, as it was a Hindi movie with a few romantic scenes. He heard aama and Nisha approaching and instantly changed the channel.

“We are too tired today. You make something for dinner, Diwa,” Parvati said before sitting down next to the bukhari.

“We missed you; I was up on the tree all day,” Nisha told Diwakar.

Diwakar switched off the TV and started playing songs on his mobile. He was getting up to go into the kitchen when Pravin entered. “Aama, Aaté is here,” he shouted.

Nisha saw Pravin and broke into a wide smile. She ran inside.

Pravin went inside the kitchen, as he knew Shevak would be there.

“Namaste, Aau. Namaste, Aama,” he said as he set his bag down.

“Aama, I bought some meat and I am hungry.”

“I will cook,” both Nisha and Diwakar said together.

Pravin looked up in surprise and smiled. He sat down next to the bukhari but away from Shevak, who was smoking his bidi and watching everything.

“I will have some pancakes also. I can’t remember when I had them last.”

“You need some rest. You have been working all day, so let me cook,” Diwakar told Nisha.

Ria came and sat next to Pravin. “What do you have for me?”

Pravin took out the scarf and she was delighted. He then passed on the shawls to Aama and Nisha and the jacket to Diwakar. Shevak watched everything and thought that perhaps his son was doing well after all.

“Make some tea,” he addressed to no one in particular.

Diwakar placed the meat on the bukhari, and added chopped onions, garlic, turmeric, and dried red chilies. Next he made the pancakes. He also put on water for tea. Everyone was tired and hungry.

“Aaté, you, Aau, and Ria eat first, I will eat later with Aama and Nisha.”

The meat was well cooked and Pravin ate to his heart’s content. Parvati looked at Pravin. She was pleased to have all her children under one roof.

“Did you eat well in Solan?” she asked.

“Yes, Aama, I was staying with a nice couple and they treated me very well.”

“Did you get pancakes there?”

“We only eat pancakes here. The rest of the world eats rice and chapattis,” Shevak said.

“Then carry some buckwheat when you go back. And some apples, nuts, potatoes, rajma, and garlic.”

“I will carry the village with me.”

Everyone laughed and Parvati wondered what was so funny in what she said.

“I may go to Simla to sell the apples,” Shevak announced.

Everyone fell silent and looked at him.

“I am not getting a good price here and there is a loan to be repaid.”

“Do you want me to come along with you?” Diwakar asked.

“No, you had better stay here and get on with the grass and woods. Winter is near and we don’t know if there will be an early snowfall.”

“I hope you are not going tomorrow? Lamaji will be coming in the morning,” said Parvati.

“Not tomorrow. As of now I don’t know when I can go.”

“Why call Lamaji?” Pravin asked.

“We need to put up the flag. It has been lying here at the house for a long time.”

Shevak had purchased the flag from Peo about a month back. The Buddhist shop at Peo sold flags and printed hymns on them according to requirement. This was a red flag and was meant for protection against storms. The snowstorms sometimes turned into blizzards and caused a lot of damage. People also put up white, green, and yellow flags for peace, harvest, ancestors, and other reasons.

They finished dinner and Ria left. She shifted to her parents’ room as aaté was there. Pravin and Shevak sat off to the side while the others ate.

“How is the meat?” Diwakar asked Nisha with a proud smile.

“It’s good, but I can make it better,” she whispered to him and smiled.

“We’ll see,” he whispered back.

Nisha and Parvati left soon after dinner. Both were tired but while Parvati slept, Nisha cleaned up the room, brushed her hair, applied cream to her face and oil to her hair, put on a bindi, changed her clothes, and tried to look her best. She looked at the mirror and blushed. She felt goose bumps all over and a strange stirring inside. She waited anxiously.

Diwakar went to the other room and switched on the TV. Only Shevak and Pravin sat next to the fire.

“What is your work there in Solan?”

“Complete electrical supervision,” Pravin replied. “It’s a new complex and I am taking care of the installation—mains, wiring, switches—everything.”

“And how long will it take?”

Pravin wasn’t sure what he was getting at. “About a month,” he said.

“And after that?”

Now he realized what Shevak was asking and replied promptly, “There will be other sites.”

Shevak realized that he must be with some big company and nodded.

“Be careful. Electrical work is full of risk. One mistake and you are crippled or dead.”

Shevak himself, though illiterate, was a linesman. He had learned everything while on the job and knew the risks well.

“What about the snowfall and the damage?” Pravin asked. He had genuine concern in his eyes.

“We lost nearly half the produce and the orchards were badly damaged. It will take another five to six years to recover. I don’t know how I will pull through this year.”

Pravin did not say anything but knew that he must help the family. He decided to send some money from next month onward.

Shevak saw that his son was tired from the journey and stood up.

“How long you will be here?”

“Maybe a week or ten days. I can’t stay longer, as I have to complete the work.”

In the other room, Pravin met his baya. Diwakar smiled and asked him to sit.

“All your friends are waiting eagerly to see you.”

“I know; I will see them tomorrow.” Though he was tired, he sat down for a while.

“How come you failed the army exams?”

“I got a suggestion book and prepared well. But the questions were different this year. Even college students failed.”

“It’s all a money game now. Maybe you should prepare more next year.”

“Maybe I should stay at home.”

Pravin looked at him in surprise. His brother had always dreamed of joining the army.

Diwakar saw his look and said, “It will be difficult for the family if both of us stay away. Aau and aama are getting old and they need help.”