On Whom?

I did this translation of a hindi story "Kis par?" by Yadvendra Sharma Chandra. Please if anybody has read the original version do rate this translation. Others can read this touching story set in the event of the emergency of 1984 in India

The deadly and blood drenched atmosphere dawned upon me when the city was gripped in terror and heavy doubts over mob-attacks were going around. Empty roads got engulfed in the silence of mute screams . I sat at the window looking over the roads beyond which was uncertainty . Even though everything was empty I could see a crowd passing through these roads. A crowd whose hands held lathis , hockey-sticks, rods , bottles , daggers and guns. Some of them had kerosene or petrol cans and some had acid bottles.

A weird internal disturbance. A strange nightmare.

These nightmares had been slowly turning real, I closed the windows scared by some unknown fear.

The mind continued to dwell into doubts . I drank tea. Ate food. Everything was grey and tasteless. Numb senses refused to register anything. The assassination of the Prime Minister Indira Gandhi had made every second deathly. I was deeply feared because I was neither a true sikh nor a true Hindu. Because my wife was a sikh and I, a Hindu. We had a love-marriage. Back then, Hindus and Sikhs shared brotherhood (which is still there……I believe). But my wife was from a lower caste, that is, a Harijan Sikh. My elder brother , who was a sikh , raised a big argument over this . My mother ,sister and younger brother supported him. A complete party against me. Only my eighty-year old father was on my side. That old man ,who led a helpless and pitiable life, crippled by an attack of paralysis told me to marry the girl of my choice. My decision ,too, was strong. I married Prabhjot and to leave behind the strains at home ,I moved to this city. I was threatened of death by the swarns. I was not denied my part in the house property but did not receive anything from the movable property and monetary assets. My father had not signed the papers to deny me my share in the house. On this, my family started to harass him. My father ,before dying , wrote a letter to me ,“Puttar! All the blessings that come from my heart are yours. Not wanting to write about my wretched life , I just wanted to tell you that your mother and the entire family goes to sleep every night hoping that they find me dead in the morning but Rabb is so harsh that he doesn’t give me even death. Maybe…..I was born to feel only pain.”

A few days later, my father died . I went home alone then. Like a stranger in my own house. My father’s death snapped my connections with that house. I created a world of my own ……a complete new world .

But wherever I lived , I don’t know how people found out that I had married a Harijan girl. They saw me with eyes full of insult and ignorance. The same painfully strange air surrounded us again. We had to change many houses because of this. Finally a low caste Sardar gave us a house on rent.

And today ……..

Oh Lord! Why does religion again and again fights in the most unreligious way. Why do pious communities turn non-pious to murder. Why does the path to god turns into a path of no return , crippling humanity in the process.
I know that religion , groups and communities do not spread with violence. Humans , too do not get involved in violence ; But when man adopts non-religion in the name of religion, he becomes a devil . And then …….violence follows.

An unknown fear captivates me……After the murder of Indira Ji ,the rumors that circulate around, the instances that happen ,me and my wife are not free from stress and fear even for a second. Sitting-standing it feels as if someone is burning our house, In front of my wife my body is being slaughtered into pieces and the thugs are raping my innocent wife one by one. Every second this fear generated horrific future envelopes my mind and heart . I would not lie ,the hatred that this dirty and disgusting politics has aroused in the hearts of brothers is getting deeper, darker and bloodier ,day by day……To the extent that even my wife fears that I would kill her……..Religious blindness and madness have scared her so much.

We are going through the torture of such moments ,together.

My wife was filled with hysteria one day. It felt as if in such situation she would lose her mental balance completely . My landlord didn’t return home from Punjab at the destined time……..his wife and two kids were frail with crying . They were sure that the rioters had killed him…because he was against them.

Three men were killed in Punjab out of which one was sikh. The police had failed in catching the killers ….like always. Those three dead were lying at different places in dump like garbage. They had been killed with a sharp weapon and their money and watches were not to be found.

My landlady believed that the sikh who has been killed is her husband. But she couldn’t recognize him. He was naked and his face had been burned with acid, his all fingers cut …A horrific murder. A carnivorous murder.

The terror was increasing. Every Hindu or Sardar was thinking that his neighbor will attack him. Everybody shared a feeling of insecurity…a cruel feeling.

As dusk came , that feeling came into me.

My wife held me strongly and said,” I am so scared…..They will definitely come here!This house….!”

“You are getting troubled without reason, dear. ” I took my wife in my arms and told her. “ Prabhjot ! Why are you getting troubled? Don’t Worry.We are very safe.” But my wife didn’t believe my shaking voice. That feeling was creeping in. In her anxiety she even said to me that today she is realizing her mistake that in the madness of love she did what she shouldn’t have- Marriage to a Hindu! and that too being a Harijan Sikh ,she had married a Swarn Hindu. Everybody is against her. Including her husband’s elder brother who is a sikh himself. On the marriage , he had commented with disgust ,“She is a Harijan ! ……How can we, Aroras link with such people?”…….Today she was feeling that Hindu-Sikh both are angry with her.

Prabhjot said in a shaken voice, “ Nobody is ready with me. I will surely be attacked…..Let’s run away from here. Look, Everybody from this building have suddenly gone somewhere else.”

“You relax. I will make some tea for you.” I consoled her and made her sit down. I went inside. Made tea for her. Fear was killing me. Every second I feared death. I felt as if someone is running after me with a dagger or that I am surrounded by flames.

I made tea for her. In that I put two sleeping tablets . I thought that sleep would help Prabhjot avoid the anxiety. She would sleep on till the morning. Sleep does relieve the mind of the troubles…even though only temporarily. …..I handed her the tea with a firm and false smile. She took it and started sipping slowly.

After a while, she was sleeping. I picked her up in my arms and took her to the bedroom. I was sure she wouldn’t wake before dawn. They were very strong effective sleeping pills.

But the fear inside me was magnifying. My lips dried , my face was pale . The assassination of Indira Ji had been done by a few blind devils and will the entire country suffer for that? What sort of madness and stupidity is this that men undergo pain for no reason? that men lose life ? Even after consoling myself with all types of opinions, I was not satisfied. I felt as if it’s a dark night. This night in its dark shadows held a black fire . A fire which wanted to blaze, to burn, to destroy, to kill. Small sounds sent my pulses raising .

My wife was completely unconscious by now. Every part of her looked dead. I touched her and everywhere she felt non-alive.

When I grew tired and frustrated ,I went to the roof. Only silence met me there. Plain silence. Everything was closed. No factory chimney emitted smoke, no sound of the humming of machinery. The kind of silence which is present only in mountains and valleys sans the pleasure. The roofs of all houses were deserted and empty.
I was looking here and there when I heard noise. Wordless noise. More noise…dissolved words........full blazing flames.

I got drenched in sweat. I came in the room and felt satisfied that at least Prabhjot was free from this noise. Suddenly , I remembered her doubts. It was true that both of us thought that everybody was against us.

My house was empty. I thought maybe I should put a lock and go to a friends’ house. At least by seeing the lock ,people will think there is nobody inside.
But Prabhjot…..!She won’t wake up till the morning and my friends house was just behind my house.

I went from there. My friend ‘s wife asked me and I told them the truth. One second he was against it but next second he said –‘This is fine.’ and finished the topic.

I really couldn’t sleep the entire night. I went and checked the lock of my house two-three times.

It was morning. One more day of killing and looting. I kept myself closed in my house. My friend locked the house from outside and went away.

Whenever my wife woke , I gave her something to eat along with those sleeping pills.
The day went. Night came up again.

My friend came and told me, “Man has gone mad and turned into animal . Today I felt that when the hatred frozen like ice in the hearts of people breaks then it keeps all ethics, law, justice, responsibilities, decency on one side and makes him savage ……till he starts enjoying the flow of the blood. I have realized why man kills man? This is human cruelty. I asked a mobster, “Why did you kill Sardar Balwant Singh?”….He didn’t have a proper or sure answer. When I pressured him for the answer, he just said with a cruel smile, “Bas mar diya” (I just killed him) . Some of them even burned the house of a Hindu financer. I came to know that he used to take 10-15 percent interest rates. Their hatred didn’t even spare him. Wrong people benefited a lot from the riots……….I still cant fully understand this mindset……Now the military is here-Now everything will be fine…….The military is not related to anyone , they don’t know anyone……….The police lives among us and has become like us- fully corrupt, unethical, irresponsible and dutiless. They see every event like mute audience and enjoy the scene. Only when everything is quite , do they become aware of anything.”

I turned mute.

Night!

Early morning my neighbor came running to my friend’s house and told us that the door of my house is open.
I froze.
Me and my friend ran towards the house. Nearby there was a gang but we went straight to the house. The door was open. Fear surrounded me. My mind raced into nightmares.
Leaping the stairs ,I reached my wife. She was still sleeping cluelessly but she was completely naked. I understood that she had been raped. Near her , the idol of a chained goddess and a kada was lying.

But I found my wife innocent. Her figure was as pure as a prayer to god. The kind of purity that Jesus must have had on his face when he was crucified. The kind of purity that Buddha must have had when he attained enlightment. Her eyes closed as if she was free from the world. The peace on her face !
My friend looked at me seriously and said, “Listen! change the bed sheet and dress her in clothes. Do not let her know or feel anything about it. Otherwise she will go insane.”

I only cried. Surrounded by a sharp disgust and hatred. Hundreds of knives being stabbed into me.

My friend helped me in arranging the room. Then he went out. After a while he came back and told me, “The two drunkards – Jaswant Singh and Dukhi Ram are lying dead outside. Probably both have killed each other. Their daggers are lying there. Both of them have several wounds on their body.”

I remembered that they kept an eye on my wife and often troubled her. I realized that the kada belonged to Jaswant Singh and the idol of the chained goddess belonged to Dukhi Ram. Using the riots for cover, they had raped my wife .

My wife who is the daughter of Sikh and the daughter-in-law of Hindu. I wonder whether these two devils have raped their daughter or their daughter-in-law. On whom should I put the blame?

Questions everywhere.

Some scribbling....

Jab talak chand taro ki mehfil hain,
Charche mein aaya tera dil hain.
Darkhwast hain huzoor se,
zara sambhal ke rakhiye,
Wo dil bada katil hain.
Dil ki gharayion mein aankhon se utar jaana.
Dil mein basse pyaar ki aankhon mein jhalak pana.
Un aankhon ki jhalak paakar dil ka ghayal ho jaana.
Kuch isi tarah chadlta hain pyaar ka paimana.
Pyaar mein panchi din raat saath beetate hain
Ek doosre ki baahon mein jannaat safar kar aate hain
Parindo ko jab aasman na ho naseeb
Parwano ki tarah wo bhi aas lagate hain
Aas lagayi hain
Kabhi to honge saath
Kabhi to chalenge haathon mein laker haath
Mangi he duan
Allah kare Kabool
na ham bhoole aap ko
na aap jae bhool

Autowallahs!

My page looks like sooo empty...... i was so used to seeing the clutter on my previous blog.But then it was the clutter that prompted me to hit the DELETE button. Anyways I am back here to write and write and vow to write more than ever before as its only words dat i have....... I think it would be nice to mention that my broadband bill is already Rs.1400 though it has been just 12 days into the month. My mom gets to know this and I will be so dead... Not that I spend a lot, I dont and I value money. Ever since I started travelling in buses.... threewheelers seem like a huge money eater. And they take like 20 times the amount required in a bus. And in a bus you always get sumone to chat to or some funny sort of chap to entertain you...while in a threewheeler its the driver who stares at you in the mirror and that is so so irritating. Though parents think that I should always use autos no matter what the expense because they think buses are not safe. But I can swear on it that buses are so much better than autos, girls just need some street smartness for it. And yes, she needs to know how to slip out of trouble. As long as a girl can do that then buses are lot better than autos.

I remember once I had a small chat with an autowallah over how he had bought his family up. He was a sardar. We were chatting something about female foeticide. His story began when his wife was pregnant and admitted into a government hospital. A nurse came over and told him that his child is a female. She then asked him to deposit Rs.1000 before allowing him to see the face of the baby girl. He was very appalled at this request. When enquired the reason for this, he was told that it is to prevent the couple from running away leaving behind the girl. The sardarji got enraged at this and told the nurse : "Saddi kudi ko kaise chodd jayenge hum!!! Insaan hain, Janwaar nahin" (How can we leave our daughter!!! We are humans, not beasts.)..He then arranged for the money and took his daughter home. Even though his financial situation was bleak at that point, he did not follow what we often get to hear such as abandoned girl childs, murdered foetus etc.... no , nothing . Instead that man who did not have money for food for himself, did not have a source of income, he did labour for those 1000 rupees and took his daughter home. I still remember his words - "Main apni bachhi ko kaise chodd ke aata...."
Later he took up several jobs till he could collect money to buy an auto. The auto bought him steady income . He told me that his daughter was in fourth standard now in a hindi medium government school. And that she was very intelligent and had jumped the second standard. She wanted to go to a better school .... one that was english medium and one that had buses. Her dreams were his vision. I just hope that he is able to afford that new school and that her daughter becomes the best of herself.

There was another old man who had been very smart in financial dealings. His sons were earning. He even managed to buy houses for his two sons and a daughter. Now that was impressive. That is what is wisdom. Though there was this weird auto wallah too who gave me lots of gyaan on how they make daaro in villages. We were like passing a beer shop and the conversation went like this :

HE : saare kaam ke baad pine yahi aate hain.
ME: unhe kya bool rahe ho.... tum khud yahaan aate hoge.
he gave dat stupid smile on this.
HE: kya kare din bhar ki thakaan mitane ke liye.
ME: ghar jake aaram karne se bhi thakkaan mit sakti hain... yahaan paise lootane ki kya zaroorat hain? saare din ki mehnat daaro mein barbaad kar dete ho... ghar ja ke wife ko kabhi kuch paise diye hain?
HE: aap bhi hamein faltu mein daat rahi hain.... sab peete hain.
ME: sab toh pagal hain hi... tum bhi banjao..
HE: par ek baat kaho?
ME: kya?
HE: isme hamari koi galati nahin..... gaon mein pite the tab se aadat lagi hui hain.
ME: hmm
HE: par is videshi main woh maaza nahi jo gaon ki sharrab main hain. Waha par toh itni nashe waali milti hain.

Now this was when it got all funny .... he went on and on about how it is made... god! i got to know the entire step by step process. .... wouldn't shut up.... finally i had a call on my cell which made him mum and then my destination came and had to get of.... though will remember his sheepish loopsided and dumb grin.