THAMES KI SARGAM

Thames Ki Sargam

Translated By Sheel Nigam

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 1 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

Contents Foreword ...... 3 1 ...... 4 2 ...... 23 3 ...... 42 4 ...... 60 5 ...... 78 6 ...... 91 7 ...... 110 8 ...... 129 9 ...... 144 10 ...... 156 11 ...... 168 12 ...... 177

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 2 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

Foreword It was in my soul‟s spiritual journey to the almighty that the author‟s beautiful Hindi words and thoughts transformed themselves into English expression. As I translated this passionate work of art, it felt as if I was transferring the beads of the author‟s swarnamala onto another thread in which I crafted my own garland. At one level stood Tom‟s oppression, a symbol of British yoke and at another deeper level, the spiritual love of Krishn which transforms a British lady into a true Indian. Cruelty only seems to destroy the soft power of love but the eternal soul remains unscathed and merges with the divine. The pure love of Chandidas and Diana appear to surrender to Tom‟s malice but they find their true abode and ultimate peace in Krishn, leaving behind their memories in the form of their child, Ragini. The symbolism is powerful yet delicate. The pure love in an illegitimate relationship shatters the social mores of orthodox Indian society and culture and embellishes a relationship full of love, attachment, emotion and true Indian ethics. Eventually, Ragini becomes a part of ISKCON which gives her immense peace of mind. As I translated this work, I could feel that it was not just the words but the emotions and imagery that were being transformed from Hindi to English. Such is the power of the imagery that I was by Ragini‟s side wherever she went, be it the by-lanes of Mathura and Vrindavan with Krishn and Radha, or in Bombay and Calcutta with Chandidas, or at the Kumbh fair in Allahabad and Prayag. I was with her not only in India but also in aristocratic London where the river Thames flows. Indeed, this journey has been one from source to sea, a voyage down the Thames and the saga, a song that the river sings.

Sheel Nigam

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 3 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

1 It was a long, cold night. Snaking shadows fell on the earth like a wounded bird fluttering its wings, when Diana came to Calcutta with her husband Tom Blair, a ranking official in the East India Company. She sensed that the land of India, the cities, roads, gardens, trees, plants, rivers and mountains, were her own. Nothing seemed unfamiliar. She had been sad when she boarded the ship at London and had felt that she was going to a place where nothing belonged to her. She had felt insecure while leaving her own city, fabulous mansion and all the servants. She had watched the formidable dark waves of the ocean, standing alone on the deck while Tom was enjoying a drink with his British friends in a cabin of the ship. She was unaware of how long she would have to live in India. She had a flourishing business worth millions of pounds in London. It would not be possible for her to grow this business because her parents had passed away and she was the only child left behind. It would also be very difficult for her to maintain all the properties belonging to her. When Tom was appointed in the East India Company she did not even think while leaving London that an emptiness would surround her and that she would feel her body was going ahead leaving her soul behind. But the moment the ship entered the shores of India, she forgot the boundaries of countries and felt that she had simply come from one home to another. Tom had been allotted one of the elegant bungalows constructed only for British families. This was in an area where only Britishers resided. There was a Black Town meant for blacks to reside. Tom was very proud of this. He used to call them slaves - black slaves. He had a black slave in his bungalow who used to work for him as a servant. His name was Bonomali. He was a santhal youth belonging to the Odao tribe. His body was as black as charcoal. His eyes were yellow, full of compassion. He used to sing boul songs on his musical instrument iktara in his spare time. Parvati used to cook food in the bungalow. People used to call her Paro. She was a medium-sized dark Bengali lady. She used to wear white shankha bangles on her wrists, vermilion in the parting of her hair which was tied in a big bun. She used to cook very delicious food; Indian, Mughlai, Rajasthani and had learned the English way of cooking as well. An aged gardener used to maintain the beautiful garden of the bungalow. The driver used to wait for orders, sitting on the seat of the jeep or car. Tom used to live surrounded by a crowd of servants but Diana was more modest, simple and full of love. She was not very proud of her beauty or her wealth. Her hobbies were music, books and traveling. She had become a fan of Bonomali‟s boul songs. When he played songs on his iktara, it sounded like millions of bees buzzing together and their echo stirred deep emotions in her heart. Diana could listen to his songs whenever she wanted. Bonomali also used to find occasions to sing for her. He knew that she was fond of music. “I will call Chandidas to meet you. He has learned music from Shantiniketan. His songs have the power to change the flow of a river.” “Oh! I see”, she was mesmerized by the magic of music... the flow of a river? Here, magically lamps light up, clouds shower rain, deer forget to sprint and stand still. India is full of mysteries... religion, philosophy, literature, music, art... India is full of the strange and wonderful energy that puts life into stones.

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 4 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

Even though Diana had unlimited wealth in her father's house, she had no interest in worldly things. She had gained knowledge by reading a lot of books which had increased her curiosity. There were many questions in her mind, like why do the skies, the stars, the moon and the sun exist? Why do mornings, evenings and nights happen on the earth? Where do we go after our death? Is it true that the soul takes another birth after the death of a person as per the belief of the Hindu religion? Her mind was entangled in these questions. Whenever she felt that there was no satisfactory answer to these questions she would get on her carriage and go for a long ride on the streets of Calcutta. The carriage used to pass through the streets of Chowringhee, where there were many artistic buildings. There were British town houses... magnificent high-rise turrets with huge windows and doors... the gates opened into a dense forest of bamboo and eucalyptus trees... the dry, brown, pointed leaves of white eucalyptus, strewn on the green lawns gave a strange feeling. In the darkness when a motor car or jeep passed by, its bright headlights made the shadows of the trees dance on the outer walls of the bungalows and then disappeared slowly. The carriage would run on the road along the banks of the river where the bungalows of the Britishers were situated. Black slaves worked as gardeners in those houses. There were servant quarters for them, at the back of the bungalows. White and pink lotus flowers bloomed in the small ponds in the gardens. On one side there was the grand wealth of the British Raj and on the other the wonderful and exquisite natural beauty of India and its mysteries. Diana wanted to uncover the hidden secrets of these mysteries. India was a very rich country. There was no shortage of anything for its people. It was a land of abundance and prosperity. The doors of the palaces and temples were embedded with precious diamonds, pearls, sapphires and emeralds. England was exploiting this rich heritage of India. Back home, its foundation was getting wealthier. The rich were becoming richer and the even the poor were getting rich. England was flying its flag high as it stood firmly on the wealth it was gaining from Indian heritage. Even when Diana felt hurt by this, there was not much she could do. Now Diana had stopped thinking about these useless things. She was eager to find out more about the fantastic legends of India. It was surprising for her to learn that King Janaka found Sita in a pitcher placed in the earth at a farm, that Raavana had ten heads, that Kumbhakarna used to stay awake for six months and sleep for the remaining period of the year, that three queens of King Dasharatha ate kheer which came out of a yagna and delivered sons, that Kunti and Madree delivered sons with the help of mantras without mating with their husband. Impossible…Diana was astonished. Treta yug used to lead her astray in the jungle of labyrinths. But the Krishn of the Dwapar period... Oh, Lord Krishn... he was perfect in sixteen arts, a leela purush, a wonderful personality. Diana had to learn Hindi and Sanskrit if she wanted to know more about Lord Krishn. Diana glanced at the Jasmine flowers in the garden as she got down from the carriage in front of her bungalow. As soon as the evening descended, the buds of the Queen of the Night would bloom into flowers and a wonderful fragrance would fill the air. She felt very lonely, though the weather was full of passion. Tom had never looked at or spoken to her with love since the time they had married. He went on tours for at least fifteen days in a month and spent the remaining time in clubs and ballrooms drinking wine with his friends or going to the cinema. His presence in the house never helped Diana in getting over her loneliness. She had learned to live in the shadow of solitude since it would neither get erased nor would it leave her.

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 5 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

As evening set in, Diana was lost in the colourful beauty surrounding her. Suddenly she heard the sound of the gate opening. As was her habit, she looked at the time in her wristwatch, stopped and wistfully smiled at herself, “Oh! Tom has gone to Assam, I unnecessarily... ” Bonomali entered along with another man behind him. He was a dark, tall and handsome man with dark eyes. His facial features were sharp and attractive. Bonomali introduced him as Chandidas. His sharp eyes were full of intelligence. Chandidas folded his hands and stood respectfully in the green lawns of the garden. “Bring him to the hall, Bonomali,” Diana said as she led the way to the drawing room. “Sit, please have a seat on the sofa”. After making him comfortable Bonomali brought some water for him. Chandidas marveled at the beautiful drawing room of a senior British officer. The paintings on the walls and the flower arrangements showed the aesthetic taste of its owner. There were no stuffed heads of antelope, lions or tigers on the walls which were invariably found in other mansions to show off the bravery of the owners. This Blair couple seemed to have love and compassion for animals, thought Chandidas and suddenly felt very small himself. But no... Diana had a flair for the arts. Chandidas had himself practiced music since his childhood. Later he graduated in the art of music from Shantiniketan. He was the only son in a lower middle class family with two younger sisters. His parents had a lot of expectations from him. He had completed his studies and was teaching in a school while practicing music in his spare time. His songs on the musical instrument iktara were full of melody. He turned his attention towards Diana. He was astonished for a while at why his sensitive eyes could not focus on the beautiful lady sitting in front of him, full of simplicity, politeness and grace. “Mr. Chandidas, will you teach me the art of singing?” Diana spoke in Hindi. Chandidas was taken aback. “A British woman speaking in Hindi, without any mistake, so fluently”, he thought. Diana could read his mind, “Aapka chaunkna sahi hai. Actually, I had learned conversational Hindi in London before coming to India. Now I wish to learn Hindi literature. I want to learn Bengali, Sanskrit and Bengali music as well.” Chandidas was surprised to see this foreign lady who was so eager to learn the languages of his country. He was dumbstruck. That was the time when the atrocities of the British were at their peak because the people of this country wanted freedom. The British were instigating them to fight with each other. They were sowing the seeds of poison, of communalism in their hearts. Christian missionaries were brought in and most of the scheduled caste people were targeted to change their religion. And here was an English lady, interested in learning the literature, music and languages of India. It was quite natural that he couldn‟t say a word. “What are you thinking?” Diana asked impatiently. “Ye..ye... yes”. Chandidas was startled as he was caught unawares. “I want to know more about Lord Krishn. Whatever I have heard from people increases my curiosity stirs my heart. Chandidas, I believe that the entire knowledge of this world is there inside us, but we don‟t see it because our eyes are closed. The presence of a Guru is required to open our eyes. The Guru shows us the way of wisdom by shining the light of the lamp of his knowledge.” Chandidas felt like touching her feet. He was overawed by her. “Madam, I don‟t have even a grain of that knowledge. I know only one word and that is love. Love is spread all over the universe. In fact the universe is too small to engulf the greatness of love. Love is very powerful.”

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 6 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

Diana heard Chandidas‟s words for the first time. “How wise he is?” She was mesmerized. “And music? Music is the soul... soul of love.” Diana folded her hands and said, “Please show me that soul Chandidas ji”. Her training in music started systematically. Diana had a talent for music. Chandidas had an unlimited treasure of knowledge. She practiced regularly. Master Jasraj used to come twice in a week and taught her Hindi and Sanskrit. Diana had bought books written by him. She felt very happy when she touched the covers of the brand new books. Her happiness used to fade away a little when Tom was present in the house after returning from his tours because Chandidas and Jasraj used to finish their classes earlier in the evenings. On such evenings, fallen dry leaves lay strewn on the lawn, the stairs of the porch and in the verandah. Some of them seemed to be shivering with cold underneath the cane chairs kept under the maulsiri trees. These leaves belonged to shishir, the cold weather, when the winter terrified the earth, gardens and green fields with its shivering cold. Tom had come back from the tour. This time he had to stay for a longer time. A bit of sunlight had fallen in the form of big spots tearing through the sheet of fog in the lawns of the garden. Bonomali wiped off the dew drops from the cane chairs, put cushions on them and kept a tea pot covered with a tea cozy, biscuits and newspaper on the table. Diana used to have tea with Tom, enjoying the warmth of sunny mornings. Bonomali poured the tea in the cups and went away. Tom picked up his cup of tea and said, “How is your practice going on?” Diana was excited and replied, “I am putting in a lot of effort but I get very little time. Sir Jasraj was saying that there are many kinds of Indian music like, dadra, kajari, thumari, birha, alha and udal. There are songs sung in marriages called banna-banni, sohar on the occasion of a child birth, bhajan-keertan, sabad in the temples... Tom sneered. He sipped his tea as he mused over the word – „Sir‘. He said, “This country is our slave. Why are you calling him Sir?” Diana felt hurt. She gave him a cold stare, finished her tea with a big gulp and got up from her chair. “Where are you going?” Tom asked. Diana looked again at Tom disapprovingly. She understood that there was no point in telling him anything. She felt that she had chosen the wrong person as her life partner. Oh, she had not selected him. He was chosen by her father. God only knows which qualities her father saw in Tom? Tom was not fit to be married to her. He was not a good match for her abilities, talent and feelings. He was living in a very small world where importance was given only to money. Tom was a man proud of his wealth. Diana‟s world was all-embracing because she was very curious about everything. Her world of curiosity was enthralling but at the same time treacherous and painful too. The evening sun was setting on the horizon. The whole earth seemed full of love and affection, in a hue of red, the colour of love... everywhere love reigned. Two boats floated slowly on the waters of the Hooghly river. Diana and Chandidas were sitting on one boat. Diana had fallen in love with the bhatiyali music sung by the boatman as he rowed the boat, its oars splashing softly on the calm waves of the river. Diana and Chandidas were not formal with each other now. They had grown closer as tutor and student and now sat facing each other. If Chandidas was late for the tuition class, Diana would be walking

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 7 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM impatiently in the garden, keeping an eye on the gate.Chandidas was also very eager to be with her as soon as possible. The seed of love had started growing between them. “Are you listening Chandidas...? I can hear the melody of a strange and wonderful song. A strong feeling of love is settling inside me as if it were Radha and Lord Krishn's eternal love.” The pink strands of love in Diana‟s blue eyes accentuated her hypnotic look. Slowly, it was becoming dark and lights were flickering on the river banks. The boatman waited for instructions to go back. But Diana and Chandidas were oblivious of themselves as they were lost in each other. They were in another world that was full of love. They were attracted towards each other by the magnet of love. Chandidas took Diana‟s moist palms in his hands and said, “I am in love with you Diana.” Diana trembled. She pressed her palm on his lips and murmured, “Do not say anything... only listen to the sound of the winds, the sound of the oars striking the waves... Chandi... love does not require words to speak. I belong to you... and will always remain yours. Do not make this beautiful moment, which is full of love, small by speaking it out. Chandidas had put his head on her shoulder. The boatman got the signal to return. The waves of river Hooghly became dark like the sky and the reflection of bright stars in the river appeared as if they were embedded deep in it. Chandidas went along with Diana to the carriage after reaching the banks of the river. The roads were full of people out to enjoy the night. Diana sat in the carriage and it started moving on the road. Chandidas started strolling along the bank of the Hooghly. The country was passing through a rebellious time. The people of India did not like the Britishers. And here he was, in love with a British woman. But what could he do? He had no control over his feelings, emotions and heart. His heart was taking him towards Diana with its full strength. Chandidas also wanted to do something for his country. The flame of rebellion used to flare up in his heart too... but... how could he leave his old, helpless parents without any care or support. Who would take care of them? He was thinking of all this as he saw the master Jasraj coming towards him. “Oh! Jasraj ji. You are here?” Chandidas paid his regards by folding his hands. Jasraj was elder to him and was going to retire in the coming year. “Chandidas, I know Mrs. Blair is an intelligent lady. But, I am surprised at how she has learned Hindi and Sanskrit within a few months. “Yes, she is learning music quickly too.” They strolled towards a tea stall. Chandidas ordered tea with some snacks. “I wish to tell you something... I do not think that relations between Diana and her husband are normal.” Jasraj said as he sipped his tea. Chandidas felt awkward. He was worried that Jasraj might ask the next question related to his affair with Diana. “I feel Mrs. Blair is just carrying the burden of this relationship.” Jasraj continued. “I never paid attention to that.” Chandidas pretended ignorance. Jasraj laughed at him and said, “You teach music that is why you do not observe what is happening in the neighbourhood.” Chandidas was afraid of looking at Jasraj in the eye. He had only just expressed his love to Diana and had been caught at once.

***

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 8 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

Chandidas had promised to bring some books for Munmun but he had brought none. He had no money to buy them... his students had again not paid him their tuition fees. Munmun opened the door but she was disheartened to see him empty handed. She started warming up the food for him without saying anything. Baba was sleeping... snoring... and she had been massaging her mother‟s knees with warm oil. Baba had started sleeping early nowadays after his retirement and getting up early in the morning to go for a walk. He would bring the milk and newspaper while coming back. Meanwhile her mother would finish her bathing and morning prayers. Then she would read the newspaper with her tea. “Dada, my examinations will start next month. Will you please drop me at the college tomorrow? I will sit there and write notes.” Munmun served food in a plate and placed it in front of Chandidas. He understood that she was very disappointed because she had not got her books to study. “Day after tomorrow I will see if I could get money from somewhere to buy the books.” Chandidas replied. “Why don't you take an advance from Mr. Blair? How will I write so much in such a short time? “, Munmun said worriedly. Munmun's worry was understandable. The annual examinations were approaching fast and she had no books to study. But would it be appropriate to ask for an advance from Diana? No... no, he cannot show her his poverty. It would be very humiliating for him. Chandidas could not sleep that night. One of the reasons was Munmun's studies and the other was his expression of love to Diana. He rang the bell in the temple of Goddess Kaali Ma. Now the doors of the temple would be closed because it was time for the Goddess to rest. Suddenly, he heard the clatter of a horse's hooves on the road. A few people were talking among themselves. Chandidas peeped in his mother's room to see if Gungun was there.” She was always at home. “Then why did people say that she had become a revolutionary and had joined the army of Subhash Chandra Bose?” Chandidas thought.

***

It was true that Gungun had enlisted to die for her country‟s freedom by joining the Azad Hind Army. She had started dreaming about a free India. Baba had not taught her to hate anybody. He had taught her to hate the bad deeds of a person. That was the reason why Gungun never hated the British but she hated their atrocities. She had a friend called Dave Franklin who studied in her class. His father was in the army and he was born in India. Perhaps that was the reason why he was more of an Indian than totally British. Gungun often shared her thoughts with him about the atrocities of Britishers. “The British are ruling us, spreading terrorism and are indulging in slaughter. After all, this is our land. Why can't we have the right to free ourselves from British rule?” She used to tell Dave. “Nobody returns wealth, prosperity, and governance which have come so easily in their possession. Mom tells me that England has become a rich country by conquering other countries and ruling them. Most of its wealth has come from India, Canada and America. England has collected slaves from African countries by ruling them. I have never visited England but I know that every citizen over there is minting money. I wish I also earn a lot of wealth so that I am able to build a fabulous mansion in England.” Dave often shared his dream with her. Gungun snapped

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 9 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM her fingers and woke him up from his reverie. “Wake up Dave. Keep your dreams aside and walk towards your goal. Only then will you achieve something in life”. Gungun started working on the instructions given by Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose along with Ila and Dvijen. Ila and Dvijen were Netaji Bose‟s niece and nephew. He was the leader of a very large revolutionary group. Gungun used to come back home by nine or ten o'clock at night. But sometimes she used to be late if someone from their group called her to attend a meeting. She had taken Munmun into confidence. Munmun was two years younger to her but they were more friends than sisters. Both of them were dedicated to each other. They had always helped each other fulfill their dreams. Whenever Gungun had to go out at two o‟clock at night, she let Munmun know in advance. Whenever any member from the group knocked at the door, Gungun would get up swiftly saying, “Munmun, I am leaving. Take care. Nobody at home should know.” “Yes, the same pretext of your rehearsal. OK. Take care while going.” Munmun used to get worried seeing Gungun‟s shadow disappearing slowly in the darkness. “Oh! Goddess Kaali, please save Gungun... who knows where life will take her.” Winter was fading away but she felt the whip of the cold wind while closing the door after Gungun had left. She saw the sparkles of a few fireflies and heard the steps of some people running away on the road. Suddenly she heard a sound of bullets firing. She almost screamed but managed to keep quiet. “Who is there?” Perhaps Baba had woken up. Munmun did not reply and lay down quietly in her bed. “Who is there?” Mother asked. “Don't know, maybe some freedom fighters.” Baba got up early as usual. He went for a walk after freshening up. There was darkness all over and the street lights were on. He started walking rapidly on the neat and clean road after crossing his locality. There were many Gulmohar, Amaltas and Peepal trees along the road. Their dried leaves collected on the footpath until the sweeper swept them away in the mornings. Youngsters also used to stroll there. Suddenly, Baba felt that Munmun was passing by. He stared at the girl wearing a black scarf. She looked like Gungun from behind. “Should he call out to her? What's the harm if he called her? But how can she be Gungun?” Baba had a doubt in his mind. He had heard a few days ago that Gungun had become a revolutionary. He was not sure about it. The country was passing through a situation in which any youngster could become a revolutionary. His children were different in nature. He had wanted Chandidas to get into the civil services but he insisted on going to Shantiniketan and had educated himself in arts and music. Parents feel happy if their children are good in arts but at the same time it is foolish to make it a profession. The arts do not bring good earnings and prosperity. A person earns his livelihood, looks after his family, works his whole life and eventually dies one day. He had done this throughout his life. Now he was worried for his children. The girl disappeared at the corner of the street. Baba cleared his mind and thought that he was unnecessarily worried. He had a stick in his hand. He stopped for a while, swung the stick in the air and looked at the road leading to Kaalighat. A few people were carrying a palki and chanting haiya ho, haiya ho. Gungun was studying in her room and Munmun was preparing tea in the kitchen when Baba returned home. He noticed that Gungun was wearing a yellow scarf. Her eyes seemed weary

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 10 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM from lack of sleep. Baba removed his shoes and kept them on the shoe rack. He came to Gungun, placed his hand on her head and asked, “Hope your studies are going on well?” “Yes Baba.” Gungun said looking at her book. “And the rehearsals for your play?” Gungun became alert. Munmun had told her that nobody knew that she had gone out at night and that she had not had to make any excuse for her. “When is the drama going to be staged?” She replied apprehensively, “At the time of Saraswati Pooja.” Gungun turned back to her books. Munmun brought tea and gave it to Baba. He went out of the room holding the cup of tea in his hand. Gungun took a sigh of relief and thought of how long she would be able to keep it a secret? Revolution was not a thing which she could hide from everybody. A day would come when her parents would get to know about it.

***

It was a Sunday and Chandidas was buying books for Munmun. He saw that the shop was full of new books from Vishva Bharti. Actually, they were not newly written books. They were new editions of old classics. Jaidev, Tagore, Bankim Chandra, Sharat Chandra, Meerabai, Kabeerdas and Surdas!!! Chandidas could not control himself. He ordered all the books of his choice and gave Diana‟s address for delivery. He assured the shopkeeper that the payment would be made at the given address. Then he purchased books for Munmun and returned home. By now Diana could speak, read and write in Hindi and Bengali. Her handwriting was very good. She could write the script of these languages as beautifully as a string of pearls. Her room was full of books that she had bought while traveling to different places. Bonomali brought the parcel which had been sent by Chandidas. George, Diana‟s assistant, paid the money for the delivery. Suddenly, the phone rang as Bonomali opened the parcel. Bonomali picked up the phone. He recognized Chandidas‟s voice and gave the receiver to Diana. “Hello Diana, I have sent a few books from Vishwa Bharti for you.” By then Bonomali had already opened the parcel and kept the books on the table. Diana felt very happy on seeing them. “Yes Chandi. I have received the parcel. Thanks. Chandi, you care for me so much? You are very thoughtful.” “Diana I will not come today. I have some important work to do. But you continue the music practice on your own.” “Definitely. I will practice and wait for you.” Diana kept the receiver of the telephone down and started leafing through the new books. Her heart was overwhelmed while turning the pages of the books. Chandidas had sent a dictionary as well, to help her understand the meanings of difficult words. She started reading Surdas first. As she was going through the pages, she was distracted by the Tanpura kept in the music room. Almost all the musical instruments were kept there. A large, cosy wall-to-wall carpet was spread on the floor. A stalk of juhi flowers was peeping through the window and spreading its fragrance. Diana went into the music room and started her practice on Tanpura. Suddenly, she was distracted. She felt homesick. She started recollecting her memories, how she used to play the piano in her huge mansion which was like a palace in London. Her mother was alive and the mansion was full of relatives who used to visit her. But Diana liked solitude. She had never been

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 11 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM a part of the crowd at home. She would sit alone and muse or play the piano, surrounded by mystery. She would feel as if the melody from the piano was rising with the winds and heading towards the heavens as it flew through the wisps of blue fog and surrounding trees. And with the melody, rose her inner being, wafting like a feather. There had been a fire inside her... in spite of the biting cold... and it could simply not be extinguished. This fire was her identity, intent on burning everything that came in its way... but here in India, she had found Chandidas and the flames of the fire had calmed down and backed away. Diana saw nothing bad in Chandidas. So handsome, wise, talented... such disarming beauty in his words, his sweet voice. Diana thought of the day when he had proposed his love for her on the boat and suddenly felt bashful. Now it was her turn and she would open her heart bare in front of him. What had never happened in her life before would happen now. Tom had never loved her from his heart. Nor had he cared for her wishes or interests. He had never spent even two minutes sitting and talking to her, never made her feel that she had a special place in his life. That was why she had been lonely before she met Chandidas. But no longer. She set aside the tanpura and made a silent cross across her face – “Lord Jesus... help me.” The next day when Chandidas came in the afternoon, Diana was waiting for him. “Did you like the books?” He asked. “Yes, very much. I will read Jaidev first”, Diana replied as she went into the music room. Diana was very eager to practice her music with Chandidas. They had met after two long days. They sat in front of each other. A tabla set was kept between them. She started playing the Tanpura while Chandidas accompanied her on the tabla... Chandidas had taught her a Bengali song... ―ai coolai aami aar oi coolai tumee, majhakhane nodee boye chole jaye... I am on one side of the river bank, you are on the other side. The river is flowing between us. How shall we meet?‖ “But this is a song of separation, Chandi... ” “Yes, true lovers live a life of separation. Lord Krishn and his beloved Radha were together for a very short time in the beginning and stayed separately for the rest of their lives. But their love was immortal. The two sides of a river never meet but the two banks keep it confined in the middle. If by any chance both the sides of the river happen to meet, there will be a tragedy, there will be no river. The geography will change. The universe will change.” “But I will never change... because I love you. You are in my soul.” Diana said. “You are love incarnate, my Radhe... and I am your servant. Servant of Radhe.” Diana embraced and hid herself in the broad shoulders of Chandidas. “Radhe a boundless river of love is flowing between us and both of us have to take care of it. We are the two sides of this river. The river cannot exist if it does not have two sides.” Saying this Chandidas held her hand. He kissed her pink lips, “So, will you be mine Radhe? Say you will.” “And you will be my Kisna.” Diana assured him. Both of them laughed together. A few flowers near the window dropped on the floor seeing their love for each other. Diana‟s whole body was filled with the intoxication of his love and touch. She was singing softly and the whole universe was singing along with her. The Sun was hiding behind the temple. The darkness was waiting for the Sun to set so that it could be seen on

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 12 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM the horizon. By the time Chandidas took her leave, new pages had opened in Diana‟s book of life.

***

Diana used to go for her morning walk alone, without taking any servant along. Tom had raised questions about her safety but she was not worried about it. Why would somebody harm her when she had not done anything wrong to anybody? One day while walking, she saw a cat with her kittens near a mound of old bricks. One of the kittens was trapped under the bricks and was not able to come out. The cat was trying her best to pull it out by its tail but could not do so. The other kittens were scared and were watching quietly. Diana removed the bricks and saw one of its legs bleeding profusely. She brought it home and sent it to the vet clinic. It was good that the bone had not broken. When the kitten was brought back from the clinic, Diana was fascinated by the cute little animal. She decided to keep it as a pet. She tied a red ribbon around its neck and named it Blossom. It took about one week for Blossom to recover. Diana used to freshen it up by cleaning and brushing its soft fur before starting her music class with Chandidas. Today, when she was humming and cuddling Blossom, it went to sleep in her lap. The warmth of the kitten gave her a comforting sensation. But the moment Chandidas came, it jumped up and sat on his shoulder. “See Diana your security guard is checking me out.” Diana smiled. Chandidas patted the kitten and made it sit on the sofa and came into the music room with Diana. The kitten curled itself up and went to sleep on the sofa. Diana and Chandidas embraced and kissed each other. Chandidas savoured her lips for quite some time. Then they sat down to practice music, their bodies trembling. The breeze became gentle and the clouds embraced the sun. The sun was about to set. It started becoming a little dark outside. Blossom got down from the sofa and purred at Diana‟s feet. It was feeling hungry but Diana and Chandidas were lost in their music. It seemed as though time had stopped. “Chandi, to join the two sides of our river of love, we will build a bridge and merge into each other.” Diana expressed her feelings. “It is not so easy, Radhe... There will be unimaginable dangers and terrifying lightning near the bridge as people try and destroy our love. They are fearful because love is mightier than all the powers in the world. That is the reason why a river should flow between the two sides. Then nobody will be able to destroy it.” Both of them came out of the music room. Diana felt like she was in another world. She felt that she had wings and was surprised at why she had not found the courage to fly in the sky until now? Bonomali brought tea in a tray. His eyes were looking at the floor. He kept the tray on the table and picked up Blossom who was meowing loudly and went away. He always felt very satisfied when Diana and Chandidas were together. He was aware of the master's behaviour towards Diana and he didn‟t like him. It was time for Chandidas to leave. Diana looked at the wall clock. She noticed the darkness and stars in the sky and said, “Go now, my Kisna. Tom will return anytime.” “Are you afraid?” “I am scared for you my Kisna. You don't know Tom.”

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“Those who are in love are not scared of anybody. I don't want to hear this from you in future. I will leave now.” George told her that Tom would be back at 3 o‟clock. Diana smiled wistfully... It was so strange that she should get her husband‟s message through his secretary. She felt that her existence in Tom's life was like the layers of wax collecting under a burning candle, soon to be thrown in the dustbin. She felt very sad and began strolling around the bungalow. Paro was peeling potatoes in the kitchen sitting on a stool. Bonomali was taking something out from the cupboard. The gardener was collecting dried leaves and grass in the garden and putting them in a basket kept nearby. She saw a bird with a long tail flying from a Neem to a Jamun tree. Diana came back to her room. She drew the curtain on the window. A bit of sunlight peeped inside. It spread on the floor gradually as if it had been waiting, hiding itself near the window to enter since morning. Diana sat on the sofa, took the book Jaidev from the table and started reading. Jaidev was a poet in the court of the king Raja Laxman Sen of Bengal during the 11th century AD. His poetry was extraordinary, expressing love in elegant fashion. Diana was enchanted. Tom entered the room. “Hi, how are you?” Diana looked up from the book, “Oh! You‟ve come.” Tom began checking the mail. He was opening the envelopes and muttering to himself. After about half an hour he got up and went to change his clothes. Diana thought he would ask for dinner after his bath. But he came out of the room wrapped in a towel, lit a cigarette and poured a drink for himself. Diana was looking at her book but observing what Tom was doing. It was not new for him to drink in the evenings or sometimes even earlier. During the holidays he would even have his drinks during the day. He gulped down one peg, and poured another one and went out of the room holding his drink in his hand. Diana heaved a sigh of relief and rested her head on the back of the sofa. Suddenly, Tom returned, naked from the bathroom. Diana‟s long hair was swaying in the breeze. She looked stunning. Her beauty attracted Tom. He poured a third drink. “Why do you read books written by slaves? They are only fit to be ruled.” He took the book and threw it on the table. He lifted Diana in his arms and carried her to the bathroom. As they stood under the shower, Diana's blue dress became wet and transparent and clung to her body. Her sensuous body was like white marble. A drunken Tom started fondling her like a madman. As he caressed her wildly, Diana turned her mind away. Dust began to blow on the banks of Jaidev‘s river Yamuna. It turned into a whirlwind and Radha and Krishn were lost in it. The wind screamed like a banshee through the Vanshi trees. Diana's eyes welled up with tears. She felt tortured by Tom. It happened every time Tom exerted his right over her body and she felt as if she was being raped. She had tried to turn him into a real, gentle lover but had failed each time. She was unaware that Tom did not see his lady love in her. He didn‟t care for her feelings nor did he have any feelings for her. They had a bland sexual relationship between them with no place for emotions and love for each other. Diana was turned off by his alcoholism, the stench of cigarettes and his rough, lusty behaviour. Diana had grown weary of Tom‟s behaviour. She would have broken down if she had not met Chandidas. Before she met him, she used to think of returning to her country... after all there was nothing in this foreign land which she could call her own. Neither relatives, nor friends, nor language, nor customs... before leaving London her uncle had painted a gloomy picture of India in her mind... that of an uncivilized land. Where people revere and pray to snakes, trees and even

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 14 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM a completely black idol with a long, red tongue and many hands. Muslims keep their women covered in veils and have several wives. They circumcise other men and convert them into Muslims. When a Hindu woman becomes a widow they burn her alive or tonsure her head, make her wear a white sari and give her boiled food to eat all her life. Such widows can no longer be part of their religious festivals. In many households they kill little girls as soon as they are born or have their heads crushed under the royal elephant‟s feet. Diana had shuddered when she heard this. What kind of country is this... completely brutal and barbaric? Her gentle mind was so upset by these things that when she came to India, she had felt that she was being banished from her country. But here she found Chandidas... who gave her answers to all her doubts and fears. She fell in love with Chandidas. She forgot her sadness and Tom‟s neglect. They built a bridge of love and completely immersed themselves into each other‟s heart. The memories of the initial days spent with Tom had faded away from Diana‟s mind. She wanted to forget everything. Now, Chandidas lived in her heart. Her Kisna was taller than Tom, more handsome, more attractive, a smart young man who was much more intelligent and wise. She was his Radha... riding a horse in the tall grasslands with an ocean of love following close behind... her Kisna... It was this love that attracted Lord Chaitanya to the land of Braj, where Radha and Krishn played hide-and-seek for years in the forest and He had incarnated them into human beings. Krishn can still be seen in that garden braiding the beautiful Radha‟s hair with flowers. Once day Chandidas too decorated Diana‟s hair with flowers. On Chandidas‟s insistence she had let her short hair grow long till her waist. Chandidas had plaited her long, golden brown and thick, silky tresses into a beautiful, long braid and put vermilion in the parting. He had also adorned her feet with heavy anklets and alta. He had kissed her soft, pink feet. He had laughed as she walked awkwardly with those anklets. Diana had felt like devoting her whole life to Chandidas‟s romance. The evening had gathered its shadows and passed by quietly like a magician taking away her bag of tricks and leaving the stage. The sky was embedded with bright stars. “Bengal‟s black magic is very famous. Women hypnotize men with their big, round eyes and tie them up in their long hair.” Paro told Diana while oiling her hair. “Is that so?” Diana was surprised. “Men are no less, madam. They are very brave like our Bagha Jatin.” “Bagha Jatin?” “Yes. Actually his name is Yatindra Nath Mukherjee. He had killed a tiger. So he came to be known as Bagha Jatin. “How did he kill a tiger?” Diana asked inquisitively. Her eyes were closed because she was feeling sleepy. “Oh! You don‟t know the story? All of Bengal knows about it. A ferocious tiger used to come to Koya village in Nadia district. It had killed many cows, bullocks and small children. The people were very terrified. Bagha Jatin single handedly killed that tiger with a knife.” Diana was filled with excitement. Paro had told her a fantastic story. She wanted her to share more of her knowledge about Bengal. Neither Chandidas nor Jasraj were going to visit today. They were busy preparing for the annual day celebrations of their school. Jasraj was visiting the school after his retirement. He was helping the students rehearse the drama to be staged on the annual day. Diana had all the time at her disposal to chat with Paro. “Do you know memsahib, our music teacher‟s younger sister is a soldier in the revolutionary army which is led by Subash Chandra Bose.?”

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 15 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

“What? How do you know about this?” “I know. That is why I am telling you. The son of Ghoshal babu is also in that army. Ghoshal babu knows Bonomali. It is a fact. So I know.” “Oh I see. You know everything about this world.” Paro thought that she was praised by her madam. She felt embarrassed and smiled shyly. Her memsahib was in a good mood. She thought of asking a question which she had wanted to for a long time. “Shall I ask you something, memsahib? You will not feel bad?” “Ask. It should be a good question. If it is not, you will be scolded.” “OK. I don't mind if you scold me because I know there is affection hidden in your scoldings. Now you see, there is a war going on. All of us have decided to send the British back to their country. Our people roam about with our tricolour flag in their hands, singing Vande Mataram. Memsahib, will you also go back to your country?” Something shattered inside Diana. Perhaps her heart was made of glass. Its fragments spread all over her and it bled. “What kind of a question was that?” Diana came down to earth from her lofty heights. Was this no longer her country? If Chandidas was hers so was this country. She belonged to Chandidas... and this was her new home. She was quiet and did not reply to Paro. But she was ready with an answer in her mind. Chandidas was so busy in the annual day programme of his school that he could not meet Diana for about a month. He could only manage to talk to her on the telephone. He was directing a dance ballet based on Jaidev's Geet Govind which portrayed the love between Radha and Krishn. He was also busy preparing for an exhibition of his paintings. He was a born artist and his art had flourished in Shantiniketan. This time he was working on an album of Diana‟s pictures. Diana had already read Jaidev, but now she wanted to see the village Kenduli, where Jaidev‟s house was situated. She chose Bonomali to take her there. Bonomali visited the village and brought back all the information about the place. Diana called and told Chandidas about her plans. He was very happy to hear that she would be visiting Kenduli. “I would have come with you but there are a lot of things to be completed here.” He told her on telephone. “I know... I am going there because I am feeling very lonely here. There is nothing to do. My heart feels empty. I want to fill it with knowledge by visiting that village. These days I am reading Bankim Chand‟s book Anand Math. It is a very interesting book. I have learned Vande Matram too and practiced its tune on the harmonium.” said Diana. “That is good news, you will be a great singer.” “Oh my dear, don‟t praise me so much. Just tell me when your school‟s programme is scheduled? Will you invite me?” “Of course, you cheeky girl. How could you even think I won‟t? The fifth day of next month at six o‟clock in the evening. Do not forget, and be punctual otherwise…” “Otherwise what?” “I will tell you when I meet you.” In this festive season everyone in Calcutta was busy preparing for different celebrations. The preparations for Saraswati Pooja were going on in full swing in many places. Some schools had planned their annual day programme in this month. The surroundings were full of an artistic air.

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 16 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

The trees standing along the streets had shed their leaves in autumn. But now spring had brought joy in their lives and they bloomed with fresh leaves and flowers. It seemed as if an artist had painted their branches with colour. Chandidas was also busy completing his paintings for the exhibition. He stayed awake at nights and had already completed a few portraits of prominent people. There were a few paintings illustrating the different moods of Mother Nature. He had also dedicated himself to painting Diana‟s pictures. He wanted to depict the whole country in her pictures by portraying her in different costumes belonging to all the states of India. It had become an obsession for him. Gungun was also busy in the rehearsals of her play for Saraswati Pooja. Only Munmun was at home. She was always busy with her studies. She wanted to remain among the outstanding students so that she could get a scholarship for higher studies. Baba was satisfied with his children‟s performance in their chosen fields. It was two o‟clock at night, Munmun felt like having a drink of water. She got up and saw the lights on in Chandidas‟s room. She took a glass of water for him to his room. “Will you drink some water, Dada?” She asked. She saw a new face in the paintings hanging on the wall and asked, “Who is this girl, Dada?‟ Chandidas was elated. “Wonderful! Even after marriage Diana was looking like a young girl!! She was not very old. She was born in the year when Shri Rabindra Nath Tegore received the Nobel Prize. She must be only twenty seven or twenty eight years old. “She is Mrs. Diana Blair. I teach her music.” “Oh! She is Diana Blair. I thought she was an older lady. She looks so young”. Munmun was astonished. “Yes... but she is a very talented lady even at this young age. I will take you to meet her.” Munmun noticed a feeling of love and attachment in her brother‟s eyes when he was talking about Diana. Love is such an emotion that its essence permeates throughout its surrounds giving birth to a special desire which belongs not to the body but to the soul. Once Narendra asked Swami Ramkrishn Paramhans, who used to worship Maa Kaali in the Dakshineshwar temple, “Can you see God?” “I am visualizing her.” Paramhans astonished Narendra with his reply. “How?‟ “Just as I look at you.” Paramhans said calmly. “I could not understand.” “Love all human beings if you want to understand God, Narendra! God lives in the hearts of all the human beings.” From that moment onwards Narendera accepted Paramhans as his Guru. He bowed his head at his feet. “I will love all human beings and my ultimate goal will be to serve humanity from now on.” Paramhans was pleased, “You are now my disciple, my disciple Vivekanand, because you have both vivek and anand in you.” Chandidas too did the same thing... by helping her bring out her hidden joy with his wisdom and discretion. And Diana turned her new found joy towards him. Now they had become each other‟s wisdom, each other‟s bliss. Chandidas painted a picture of Beludmath of Dakshinshwar on a large canvas. He sketched the statues of Navgrah on the outer wall of the math. While painting the river Hooghly flowing gently past the temple, he remembered that evening when he

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 17 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM had proposed his love to Diana as they sat on a boat. So much had happened since then. He felt as if ages had gone by and in each age Diana and he had been together, immersed in their ocean of love. Their attraction for each other evoked strong emotions inside them. In the morning, Mother had washed a large bedsheet, cleaned a full canister of raw rice and plucked flowers from the banana plant to cook vegetables. And now she was complaining of a severe backache. Munmun was massaging and scolding her, “Why do you do so much work in one day? You know that there is just one month left for my examinations. How will I manage if you fall ill?‟ “Okay, okay, at least you are talking to me now even though it is about my health.” Mother turned her back and got up. “Otherwise nobody in this house has time to talk to me. There‟s too much happening in this house. One person is busy studying; the other one is busy paintings and another is rehearsing for a play. Your room‟s window rattles until midnight and outside the house there are strange sounds, as if somebody is whistling. Munmun went to the kitchen and brought a cup of tea for Mother. “Have some tea, it is quite hot, and please stop worrying about us.” “What should I do if I don‟t think about you all? Our son Chandi, Oh! How many times we had to pray before he was born in our house. Your father had no hopes of getting a son from my womb and your grandmother? She was all set to remarry her son.” “Why?” “I had been married to him for four years and…” Mother was hesitant to speak. How could she tell her grown up daughter that she had been desperate to become a mother of a child? She had gone through all sorts of treatment, even black magic, just to bear a child. At long last she saw Chandidas‟s face. Even today when she remembers that day, all the joys of the world seem small in comparison. Chandidas was born at home. His grandmother had been sitting in the temple of Maa Kaali since morning, praying, “Oh Kaali, please show me the face of my grandson. You have given me a lot of lack in my life but I cannot tolerate this loss.” At five o‟clock in the evening, Chandidas was born. The whole house was full of joy. Baba distributed rasgullas and sandesh in the entire neighbourhood. The grandmother was very happy. She did not allow mother to do any housework for one year so that she could rest and look after the baby. Chandi was a lovely baby. Mother used to apply kajal in his eyes after giving him his daily bath and he used to wipe the kajal off with his palms and spread it all over his face. He never liked to lie down and always wanted someone to take him in their lap and sing lullabies to him. He made a lot of noise if he was left alone in his cradle. “I sensed that he will become a singer.” Mother said. “Your tea is getting cold. Drink it and rest for some time. Don‟t worry, I will cook some food.” Munmun forced her mother to lie down and went to the kitchen. Mother was lost in her own memories. Chandidas had completed all his paintings. He had bathed and was getting ready. His room was very untidy because his colours and paintbrushes were lying all over the place. Munmun brought some food for him. “Today I will not get time to study. Mother is sick and I had to do everything in the kitchen. Look at how messy your room is, it looks like a godown.”

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 18 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

“This house belongs to us artists. It is not an insignificant thing.” Chandidas teased Munmun as he ate his food. “Dada, you…” she started cleaning the room and putting everything in its place. “Okay, listen, I will send a jeep in the evening and Nandlal will also come. By then these paintings will be dry. He will take them with him in the jeep. Please offer him some tea to drink.” “There! One more order for me to obey. I am finished, now I definitely won‟t get time to study.” Chandidas patted her head and left. The sun was hot and his hair was shining in the light of the sun. She saw a crowd of British youths. They were laughing, talking loudly and kicking the pebbles lying on the road with their pointed shoes. Munmun closed the doors. She had a very bad experience in the past with these types of youths. Once, in the month of July, when the sky was full of clouds, Munmun was walking along with her friends on the left side of the road at Fort Williams Gate. All of them were busy talking. Suddenly they became quiet because they saw some Bengali ladies sitting on a bagghi, screaming, saying something in their native tongue. A few British youngsters were teasing them and making dirty gestures. The ladies were shouting loudly to draw the attention of the people walking on the road but nobody had the courage to stop them. Munmun felt a fire within her. She whispered to her friends and they started pelting the youths with stones. Seeing this, the driver of the bagghi stopped the carriage, got down and started helping them. A police jeep was passing by. The police officer was a gentleman. He was himself a Britisher but he arrested the youths and helped the ladies reach their destination. Munmun knew that the police would let them go after a while. The Britishers were very cunning. No other clan was shrewder than them. The flames of revolution were burning the British rule slowly and even as they were resigned to leaving the country, they still wanted to show that they respected the rule of law. This flame was not an ordinary one. It had already burned the flourishing British rule and now it was turning into an inferno to destroy it completely. A glimpse of this fire could be seen in Gungun‟s stage show on the occasion of Saraswati Pooja. Gungun‟s team won the competition. Finally they were successful in their mission. Gungun was the heroine and the hero of the play was Sukant Ghoshal. The whole group came to the canteen after the play was over. “Gungun, you were fantastic in the show.” “No we will make it great from now on. Our role is more critical now.” Gungun was dreaming of a free India. She was ready to shed her last drop of blood for the sake of the army of Subhash Chandra Bose. “Come I will drop you home, sleep at night peacefully.” “Will you sleep well at night, Sukant?” Sukant was taken aback this question. Gungun worries a lot about the whole world as if she has taken the responsibility for everyone. Actually, he was impressed by her for this very reason and she was not aware of it. He saw a volcano in her eyes. He knew that Gungun‟s thoughts were trained in only one direction, where one has no desire to live and no desire to die. Only two words filled the air Inqlab Zindabad … there was no time to think of herself. The pale white light of the crescent moon fell on the bushes almost as if it was sick. Sukant stopped his bicycle at the lane heading towards Gungun house. Gungun was sitting behind, holding him tightly. She got down. Suddenly Sukant kissed her cheeks. She did not react. They

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 19 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM parted silently. Gungun disappeared in the lane. Sukant began pushing his bicycle up the sloping road.

***

Chandidas‟s dance ballet and painting exhibition will be organized in a large cultural hall. Meanwhile, it would be good if Diana could visit Shantiniketan. Paro had bought many kinds of sweets and the famous rosogollas from Navin Chandra Sarkar‟s sweet shop. She spread out her shopping bag in front of Diana. “See memsahib, date filled sweets, other types of sweets.” “But these are similar sweets. Why have you got so many of them Paro?” “That‟s OK. These aren‟t ordinary sweets. This one‟s made from dates, this one from sugar cane and this one from jaggery. That is kashundi.” She pointed to a bottle filled with liquid. “This is made from the oil of mustard seeds. These Bengalis eat it with rice and fish curry.” Diana was amused at Paro‟s excited way of speaking – “Hey Paro grandma... we have to leave for Shantiniketan early tomorrow morning. We won‟t eat anything from outside. Cook something for us to take along.” “Shall I make fish curry and rice? Eat it mixed with kashundi memsahib, you will enjoy it”, said Paro as she began collecting her things.

***

At the crack of dawn, Diana left for Shantiniketan with Paro and Bonomali. She had been trying to call Chandidas on the phone since the evening but hadn‟t been able to speak to him. In any case, he knew of her plans to visit Shantiniketan and Kenduli village. The jeep hurtled along the road. “We‟ll go to Kenduli first.” Diana said to the driver. “Yes memsahib... ” They reached Kenduli in a few hours. Diana was fascinated as she got off the jeep. Jaydev‟s poetic world of love was in front of her. The pages of his book ruffled in front of her eyes and his words wafted gently in the breeze. Every word turned into a tune that rang in her ears. She quickened her pace. Like a mad woman, from one street to another… from one crossroad to another… from one tree to another… as if a spellbound Radha was searching for her Krishn. She fluttered her eyelids and began looking for Jaydev… for the house… for the room where he had written Krishn‟s song. The Kopai river flowed nearby. Instinctively, she sat down at its banks. Beautiful waves flowed by gently. A few children were frolicking in the river. A woman sitting under a mango tree selling boiled gram. Diana felt as if she was flowing with the river. Jaydev would have sat on the same river bank. Here is where he would have sat and given voice to the frisky river waters. He must have yearned so much for Radha to be able to create such exquisite poetry. Diana was so lost in this world that she had no sense of time passing by. As the setting sun highlighted the waves in rainbow colours and as the birds in the sky flocked home, Paro came closer and said – “Memsahib… shall we go back now?” That day they could not leave for Shantiniketan.

***

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 20 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

Chandidas arrived after taking some time off from distributing his invitation cards. Twenty days of separation had seemed like twenty years. Diana rushed into his arms. Chandidas kissed her and said – “Radhe, tomorrow will be the test of all my hard work. Be there on time… let me see your dresses. I‟ll select one for you to wear tomorrow.” He came with Diana into her room. Captivated, Diana opened the wardrobe. He placed her hand on a striking dark brown dress – “Wear this one.” Diana put her arms around him and pressed her lips on his. The silence in the room faded as it came to life… “Chandi… my Kisna… you are so nice.” “Enough… enough Radhe… don‟t enchant me today. I must leave now. Today there is the dress rehearsal.” Diana asked him to take the car but he had come on his bicycle. He reached the school quickly.

The hall was dimly lit and there was Rabindra sangeet playing in the background. A few British officers sat in the seats up ahead. Diana was also seated there. The stage curtains rose slowly after the welcome announcement and the dance ballet began. More than a dance ballet, it was the product of Diana and Chandidas‟s separation. Chandidas‟s resounding voice enveloped Diana. It grew deeper and soon shrouded the entire universe within it… the rivers, streams, seas, oceans, waterfalls, mountains, green fields… the moon and the stars and galaxies… and then the large expanse became a dense fog and entered Diana‟s being as it slowly dissolved and disappeared. The curtains had come down. Amidst the ovation, Chandidas descended from the stage and came towards Diana. He looked very handsome in his white Kurta Payjama and dark coat. “Beautiful, you sang very well and the play was excellent and you too are wonderful today.” Chandidas held her hand and as she rose the lights turned brighter. All that was hidden until now could be seen. “The exhibition will go on for a week but it will be inaugurated today. You will come, won‟t you?” “Yes... why not? Who will be inaugurating it?” “He is from your society. A Professor Alter from Simla.” Someone handed Diana a cup of coffee. Chandidas laughed – “He‟s a friend of mine. An artist.” Diana finished her coffee and came to the art gallery alone because Chandidas was busy with the arrangements. After the inauguration, Professor Alter saw Diana and was taken aback – “Oh… Mrs. Blair…what a coincidence? Is Tom here too?” Diana too was surprised at seeing Alter… in London, Alter‟s family and she were neighbours. Alter was deep in conversation with Diana as they toured the gallery. Chandidas watched them from a distance. He was glad that Diana would not be feeling lonely… but as Diana‟s eyes fell on the paintings, Alter was perplexed… all these faces look exactly like you Mrs. Blair… today has been a day of coincidences… Diana felt bewildered. Chandidas had created all of India in Diana‟s image… wearing a lehnga dupatta here, a Bengali sari there, somewhere a salwar kurta and elsewhere a Kashmiri firan, somewhere she had her head covered in a pallu… Oh! What had Chandi done? The art gallery was filled with pictures of Diana.

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Petrified, she glanced at the crowd, aplogised to Professor Alter and left for her car. Chandidas came running after her… “What happened Diana… won‟t you meet my sisters, my mother and father? They‟ll be here soon.” “Enough… I‟ll leave now Chandi… No, don‟t ask me anything… the world that you have created with my pictures… believe me Chandi… I can‟t handle so much love. Please let me go now…” On the way back home, a new thought entered her mind… in fact a new perspective… that in the dance of love every gopika had a Krishn with her... each gopi thought that Krishn was solely hers… Today, Chandidas had shown her this simple and elegant quality of love.

***

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 22 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

2 Chandidas lived in a locality where mostly salaried people rented houses. These houses were in a very poor condition. The doors, windows and walls in Chandidas‟s house were infested with termites and were covered with dust. Baba wasn‟t happy but they could not move to a different house. He earned only a nominal pension. Chandidas‟s salary was barely enough to take care of the household expenses. He spent his tuition earnings on Gungun and Munmun‟s studies. Though Nandlal and he had planned to start art and music classes, they couldn‟t find a good place. He had thought of discussing this problem with Diana but he was hesitant to do so, because their relationship had now grown beyond that of a teacher and student. They lived immersed in an ocean of love. It was very difficult for him to ask for any favours from her. Doing so would be demeaning to their relationship. Professor Alter, who had inaugurated his painting exhibition, was so impressed by Chandidas‟s work that he had bought two of his paintings at a very high price. One painting was of Diana in an elegant Manipuri dress and the other of Bagha Jatin stabbing a tiger with a knife. Alter was so impressed by the portrayal of Bagha Jatin that he came to Calcutta to meet Chandidas and then accompanied him to Diana‟s house. When Diana saw them, she was surprised. Chandidas explained Alter‟s visit. “Professor, you can also visit Shantiniketan and contact Vishwabharti. You will find it very interesting. You don‟t have to go anywhere else for more information.” Diana agreed enthusiastically with Chandidas as he suggested this to Alter. “Marvelous! That‟s what Bengal‟s literature is. Writers, poets, historians… our life is too short to explore the works of these people,” she said elatedly. “It seems like you‟ve read a lot.” Alter smiled and said. “Yes, I‟ve read Jaidev, Bankim Chandra, Sharat Chandra and Rabindra Nath Tagore and I‟m going to read other Bengali poets as well,” Diana said enthusiastically. Bonomali had served coffee, snacks and sweets for them. Alter was fond of sweets. He popped a rasogulla in his mouth and closed his eyes as he savoured the taste. “In Bengal everyone has a sweet tooth.” Chandidas could not wait and he too had a rasogulla. “And they‟re great connoisseurs of the Arts too. Why don‟t you start Art classes? An artist should share his knowledge with others otherwise the art dies along with him and disappears from this world,” said Professor Alter, almost as if he was reading Chandidas‟s mind. His eyes widened with interest as he sensed his dream coming true. “Oh, yes. That‟s a very good idea. You should certainly do that.” Diana said eagerly. “I have been planning this for a very long time but I have not been able to find an appropriate place to hold my classes,” Chandidas explained his predicament. “Then rest assured that your problem is solved. You‟ve got the right place for your Art classes, Chandidas…” “Sengupta.” Chandidas completed Alter‟s sentence. “Mr. Sengupta, one of my acquaintances teaches sculpture in a room at Camac Street. He uses that room only three days a week. You can hold your Art Classes on the other four days.” Alter suggested. “I hope he will have no objection if I do so.” Chandidas asked hesitantly.

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 23 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

“Why should he object? That is a rented place. Both of you can share the rent. By sharing the amount you will both benefit.” There was no reason for not accepting Alter‟s proposal. Diana celebrated this pronouncement with hearty cheers to the second round of coffee. As Chandidas left the bungalow, he mulled over the situation. He thought that everything in life happens with the grace of God. It was by God‟s will that Alter had inaugurated his painting exhibition and now he was going to help him in starting up his Art classes. Chandidas started planning for his art and music classes along with Nandlal and they worked late into the nights. They discussed all the important issues with Diana. She was just perfect in planning and management, being the daughter of a successful London businessman. She prepared a complete project report and presented it to Chandidas. Chandidas christened his classes as Sangeet Chitrkala Academy. He distributed pamphlets to every household in the neighbourhood through all English and Bengali newspapers. Until now he had been meeting Diana only to teach her music but now there was another topic to discuss. Both of them were very anxious to see the results. Would it be successful? Would they get students or not… Diana was fascinated by all this. The atmosphere in her bungalow had changed. Gone were the days when she used to feel lonely and bored with nothing to do. Now there was no time to think of anything as the day passed quickly, Chandidas would come in the evenings and when he left, it would be time for Tom to come home. After coming home, Tom would change to go to the club. He would want Diana to accompany him but she had no interest in club activities like playing cards, bridge and rummy, table tennis, billiards or carrom. She hated the strong smell of cigarettes, alcohol and demeaning jokes about Indians. Yes, she liked playing badminton in her own lawns with her Muslim friend Nadira who was her new neighbour. Her husband was a commissioner of police, very faithful to the British. Nadira was attractive, of medium build and a very sweet spoken lady. Diana was surprised to see that Tom, who was very particular about horse riding on holidays, now stayed at home to talk to Nadira. This time when Tom had to go to Darjeeling on a tour for twenty days, he told Nadira that he would miss her very much; Diana noticed that Nadira reacted coyly to Tom‟s words. The inauguration of the Sangeet Chitrakala Academy was scheduled on 15th of March because it was considered an auspicious date and seven students had already applied for admission. “It is a good number, auspicious and lucky too.” Chandidas told Diana. He scheduled vastu pooja at 9 o‟clock in the morning. “But Alter wants me and Tom to visit Simla this month” Diana said. OK, you can go, today is the 27th. You will be able to come back before the inauguration of the academy next month. “No we can‟t go. Tom is going on his tour tomorrow. When I told Alter about this, he invited me along with you to visit his place in Simla. He has arranged everything for our visit.” “Oh, what objection can I have if I have to go with you to Simla? I have to apply for leave at school. Whatever my students miss in my tuition class, I can cover up after coming back. Besides, they are busy in the preparation of their examination.” Chandidas began putting the project papers for his academy into his Shantiniketan bag.

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 24 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

Diana peered into his eyes, “You‟re very busy nowadays? I hope you haven‟t forgotten that you love me.” Chandidas held her moist palms. They were like lotus petals, wet with fresh water droplets. He wiped her hands and said, “This is my love to you, darling. All my work is dedicated to you. There was nothing much in my life, just a planned daily routine, very boring and suffocating days. Radhe, you have filled my life with excitement and challenges, you have taught me how to love, how to keep myself busy. Whatever I am now, it is because of you. You have changed my life like a sculptor crafts a statue.” “And you are my sculptor. I was also like you before I met you. Now time flies in my life. I have so much to learn and understand… There was an alluring fragrance between them, like fresh rain showering on dry earth. The gardener was watering the plants in the garden. A host of sparrows flew from one tree to another as the water sprinkled gently on them. Chandidas kissed Diana‟s soft, pink palms as he got up to leave. Diana whispered softly in his ears, “We will definitely go to Simla day after tomorrow. She fondly combed the hair falling on his forehead, with her hand. Gungun was not upset but Munmun was feeling bad. “Dada you are going to Simla! Wow! That too in English style… You are so lucky brother!” “Are you feeling jealous? Chandidas teased her. “Why should I feel jealous? You are so happy. See, how you are blushing?” Munmun laughed heartily. Mother had kept a shawl, pullover, cap and gloves in Chandidas‟s suitcase. “From where shall I get you a coat? It will be very cold in Simla at this time.” Mother asked Chandidas. “Do not worry Maa. I will borrow it from Nandlal. His brother-in-law is just my size. His coat will fit me.” Mother felt better. She stopped worrying about the coat. Chandidas wanted to finish his pending work before leaving for Simla. There was no need to inform his students about the tuitions. They would resume only after their examinations. He had already applied for leave. His has accumulated a full year‟s sick leave and he needed to use only fifteen days. Actually, he would get only ten days in Simla. He calculated that he had to come back before the 12th of March. Diana had sent the jeep to pick him up. The driver was putting his luggage in the jeep, not too many items… a suitcase and a basket. “What did you keep in the basket Maa?” He did not like to carry too many things but mother… he heard Baba calling out, “Munmun, did you keep the sweets?” “Yes I have kept sweets and also the ones made with ginger. They will be good for him because it will be very cold over there.” “I do not want to carry sweets.” Said Chandidas as Baba retorted angrily, “Keep it. You will not be here on the auspicious day of Mahashivratri. You will not be able to fast on that day so eat some sweets to celebrate the occasion.” Chandidas was getting late. He took everyone‟s leave and sat in the jeep. As the jeep started he saw Gungun standing behind Baba. There was a glare in her eyes, a flame so fierce that it would burn every thing in its path. Why did he feel so…? He thought about Munmun on the way to Diana‟s house.

***

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 25 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

Gungun was very happy because her plans were bearing fruit. Sukant and Gungun were celebrating their success in the canteen with a plate of snacks. Dave Franklin entered and came towards them, “Hello everybody, hi…” “Hi, sit down.” Sukant offered him some snacks. “No thanks, I‟m Dave Franklin.” “We know,” both said together. “Oh I see…Dave smiled, then you must know that I was sick for almost a month. I joined the college yesterday, and you know the examinations begin next month.” “Yes… how can we help you Dave?” Sukant asked wryly. Gungun knew that he did not like Britishers. When she heard his sarcastic remark she tried to cut in, “Dave, you might need these notes?” Gungun looked straight into his eyes. “You will get them but on one condition. “Condition?” Dave was surprised. “Yes, the condition is that you will return my notes in one week‟s time.” Gungun laughed and said, “You will get the notes tomorrow.” “Yes, after college. OK, I‟ll have to leave now… aren‟t you coming? There‟s a football match at the grounds.” Dave said as he got up. “No we have no interest in football, we are not coming.” Sukant stared at Dave. Gungun kicked his foot under the table and motioned him to talk kindly. The moment Dave left the canteen, Sukant mimicked him, “Are you not coming?... Idiot…” “Sukant! Why do you hate these people? May be they are also innocent, just like us. We have not done anything wrong, yet they exploit us. The East India Company is ruling our country. Why...? It is because of our selfish and traitorous rulers. Why did our rulers allow them to settle down in our country for trade and business? Why did our kings and nawabs allow them to take advantage of our internal strife? First look at your own faults, Sukant. Those who have achieved power will definitely show it off.” Sukant kept nibbling at the snacks silently while Gungun was speaking. When she was quiet, he held her hands and said, “Gungun you are great! Your thoughts are great! Now, if I tell you something, take it in the right spirit. Because of your righteous thinking and moral qualities, I have started liking you. I love you. I want to make you my life partner. Will you be my soul mate?” Gungun felt as if a hundred light bulbs had flashed before her eyes. Elegantly dressed men ran on the roads carrying bright lamps in big vessels on their heads. Sukant was sitting on a black mare as it bucked and tried to dismount him. Suddenly, the shehnai‘s sweet melody turned into the unpleasant rasping of weeds. Gungun was scared, she pulled her hand out of his grip and said, “Sukant, our paths are different, they ask for sacrifices; martyrs do not lead a family life.” Suddenly, Sukant‟s voice softened. Oh no, I am not asking you to start a family? We will die together for our country. You will be in front of my eyes when I die for the sake of our country. I wish to see you when I leave this world. Gungun began crying. She rested her head on his hands. Her warm tears helped them find each other that evening. From a distance, they could hear the bells tolling from the temple for the evening prayers. Gungun sat behind Sukant on his bicycle, wrapping her arms around him like a tender creeper. It was quite dark when they reached the lane that led to her house. They kissed each other. When Gungun entered the house, Munmun was waiting for her impatiently, “Comrade

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 26 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM came with a message. You all have to assemble at 54, Bagh Bazaar tomorrow.” She whispered in Gungun‟s ears.

***

Simla was covered under sheets of snow. It had been snowing in Simla all night and the temperature was at the lowest for the season. This was not a new thing for Diana who was from London. She was used to this type of weather. Chandidas was seeing snow for the first time in his life. He enjoyed looking at the falling snow. The cold weather did not trouble him. Professor Alter came to receive them. Chandidas and Diana got down from the jeep, “Hello Professor, how are you?” “Welcome Mr. Sengupta and Mrs. Blair. I am fine. The weather is perfect! The snow is welcoming you. It was snowing all night but it is better now. The fog has been fading slowly since morning. The roads are being cleared of snow.” Chandidas saw a few Britishers riding on their horses, ordering Indian labourers to clear up the snow from the streets. The physical condition of the labourers was very pathetic. Without any warm clothes on their skinny bodies, they were bending down and shoveling the snow. He felt saddened. The jeep followed the Professor‟s car. It was quite warm in the luxurious cottage in spite of the cold weather outside. Professor Alter sat on a sofa comfortably and Diana went inside to freshen up and change her dress. She looked very attractive when she came back to the drawing room. “You can also go and change. Then we will have some drinks to welcome you to Simla. What will you drink?” the Professor asked Chandidas. “No I do not drink alcohol.” Hearing this, Alter laughed disbelievingly. He was so loud that the whole cottage seemed to shake. “I will not make you drink heavily but you must have a small peg of rum to keep your body warm in this weather,” the Professor explained. Chandidas smiled and went inside to freshen up. Diana observed the cottage carefully. She knew that Alter‟s wife was no longer alive. She had died during childbirth. The baby girl had also died. Alter was alone now. He could not forget his beloved wife so he had not married again. “I don‟t know anybody here, nobody belongs to me here. When I saw you in this foreign country, I was reminded of my London home.” There were waves of sadness in his voice. “In the beginning, I too did not like it here but now I‟m losing myself in the beauty of this country, the vocal and classical music of India. I have forgotten everything in this world by dedicating myself to music.” She turned towards the fire place. The shadows of the flames danced on her face. Naththu brought coffee in a tray and Chandidas followed him with a box of sweets. He looked very handsome after freshening up. “Would it be better if we have the drinks at dinner time? Naththuji, please serve us some coffee and have some of our Bengali sweets.” Everybody laughed at Chandidas‟s simplicity. “Whose face did you see, when you up this morning?” Alter asked Naththu lightheartedly. Naththu replied cheekily as he took, “Yours sir”, and hurried away to the kitchen. “You are lucky Professor, to have a servant like Naththu. He seems to be very good.” Chandidas said candidly.

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 27 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

“I live here comfortably because of him. Sometimes I think of how I would manage in London without him, if I have to go back.” “Take him along with you when you go,” Diana suggested as she picked up a sweet. She offered the sweets to Alter, “Have some sweets, Professor.” It became dark early because of the heavy snowfall. The Weather Bureau had announced that the weather would be clear and flowers would bloom in the valley. Naththu had lit the earthen lamps. A spicy aroma of peas and cauliflower curry being cooked wafted in from the kitchen. Alter asked Naththu to bring the harmonium so that they could play some music. There was no question of Diana and Chandidas declining to sing. After all, what does a singer require to sing? A nice environment and a happy mood. Chandidas began a melodious song, ‗Hoooo, pehre chandi ke gehanva meri pyari dhaniya…pyari dhaniya dekho banki dhaniya…‘ The air was full of music as Chandidas‟s words cast a spell on everyone. Naththu stopped his work and stood still near the wall, listening, as if in a trance. Diana would have drawn in the intoxication if she was not careful. She felt like singing along with Chandidas. Chandidas placed the harmonium in front of Diana and asked her to sing. She started singing in a silky, melodious voice, ‗Payo ji mene Ram rattan dhan payo... ‘ “Wonderful, I think this is a pad of meera.” Said Alter, deeply impressed. Diana was astonished at Alter‟s knowledge of Indian poets and poetry. It seemed that he had read poets like Meera and Kabeer. Alter insisted on them having a few more drinks but they politely declined after the first one. Alter continued drinking. Perhaps he had a fixed quota. After four drinks he had his dinner and went to sleep in his room. Naththu prepared two beds in two different rooms for Diana and Chandidas. “Close the doors memsahib, the cold breeze enters the room at night.” Naththu cautioned. Diana covered herself with a warm quilt. The room was quite warm and the bed was comfortable. There was a door connecting the two rooms. Naththu had efficiently closed the door and switched off the lights. Snow fell upon the rainbow- streaked window panes and moonlight reflected on it creating a soft white hue. Diana rose from her bed and opened the latch of the connecting door, “Chandi! Are you sleeping?” In response, Chandidas threw aside his quilt and came to Diana, “Did you sleep?” The cold breeze entered from the window and the curtains moved. Both of them came to Diana‟s bed, mesmerised. The cold wind seemed to ease as they spread the quilt over their quivering bodies. The tiny night lamp recreated a cosy scene from the Arabian Nights. Chandidas embraced Diana under the quilt. His heart beat quickly and his lips quivered. “Are you afraid, Radhe?” “Of what?” Chandidas felt that the room was ablaze despite the cold wind and he was being drawn towards the flames. Where was he going? No… the flames were consuming him. He embraced Diana‟s trembling body and pressed his lips against hers. Their frenzy of kisses seemed to whirl around the room. Diana loosened her robe. Slowly, she removed the quilt, got down from the bed and stood in front of Chandidas. “Chandi, my Kisna, tonight I am entirely yours. Look at your Radhe, so that you can know her completely.” Every part of Chandidas‟s body seemed to burst into song, surrendering itself to

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 28 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM their love. A breathtaking marble statue stood in front of him… God‟s perfect creation. He rose and gently caressed her body. He was in rapture. The first touch of love… the first thrill, the first sensation... this was God‟s gift to man. The ultimate truth of life! A man is incomplete without a woman, his soul is incomplete. Chandi was incomplete without Diana. He was in this world because Diana was with him He took her in his lap and lay her down on the bed tenderly, hiding his face in her breasts. Diana kissed him and whispered, “Chandi, I will die.” Chandidas felt numb in his ears but his hands moved briskly. He surrendered himself to the flames of Diana‟s body. He felt himself grow large as the room became smaller and their bodies intertwined. Diana was shivering, trembling like a leaf… she was melting… she murmured something when she was fulfilled and collapsed into Chandidas‟s broad chest. Time stopped for Chandidas as the flames of passion quenched their thirst. The gentle breeze blew against the door and he rolled over, their first sensation of love etched in his heart. He took Diana in his arms and slept. Early next morning, they awoke to the sound of Naththu doing his chores in the kitchen. Diana blushed as they embraced each other. “How are you Radhe… did you sleep well at night?” Chandidas asked as he gently straightened out her hair. “And what about you? Tell me honestly, I felt very happy.” “Boundless, wonderful, your touch gave me endless satisfaction. Radhe… now I do not need anything. I felt incomplete until now but now I am. I have seen the whole of creation.” “See how joyful the weather is with our coming together. The sun is out to welcome us.” Chandidas glanced at the window. Snowflakes were sliding down the pine leaves and sunlight poured through the glass, vibrant in all its seven colours… a rainbow descended into Chandidas and Diana‟s life.

***

Diana and Chandidas were sixteen kilometers away from Simla on the way to Kufree. Professor Alter was not with them. He had stayed back to complete some work. Naththu had kept some coffee in a thermos flask and some snacks for breakfast saying, “Eat something on the way memsahib, it will be very late by the time you reach Kufree.” Diana felt nice. “How sensitive and loving Indians are,” she thought. Suddenly, she shivered at the thought of last night. She held Chandidas‟s hand and moved closer to him. As the jeep started, the breeze blew her hair on Chandidas‟s forehead. Kufree was colder than Simla. They could see faint impressions of deep pine and deodar valleys and their ski slopes, concealed in the dense morning fog. Sweet, melodious music added magic to the atmosphere. Two young girls dressed in tribal attire, served them hot tea in the guest house. The girls wore silver jewellery on their wrists, nose, ears and neck. They bowed to greet Diana and Chandidas, and sat down on the floor. Chandidas offered a cup of tea to Diana and took the other one himself. He asked for their names as he sipped his tea. “Her name is Damyanti.” One of them said. “And yours?” “My name is Lajwanti. I am elder to her. We are the daughters of Pandit who works here as a cook… our mother is no more, brother has joined the army.” “Memsahib, shall I press your feet?” Damyanti asked Diana.

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Chandidas and Diana were amused. They looked at each other bashfully. Diana wanted to go for a walk outside but Chandidas was concerned because of the fog. When Lajwanti saw them going out, she chirped again, “Sir, Madam go for a walk…but do not go towards the slope. There is a very deep valley there. You will not know. Shall I come with you? I know all the roads.” “Yes, come with us.” Diana said, putting on her overcoat. Then she had put on her hat and muffler. Chandidas was already dressed in warm clothes. “Wait a minute, memsahib, I will inform my father. She ran into the kitchen and came back alone a little later. “Where is your sister?” Diana asked. “Oh, Damyanti? She will help bapu in the kitchen. She grinds very nice masala for curries, when you eat it you will like it.” Diana liked Damyanti‟s playful innocence. As they stepped into the thick snow, they looked like black spots on the earth… the cold weather kept at bay by their warm shoes. They had to remove the muffler from their mouths to speak else they could not be heard. Even then they had to be very close to each other to hear anything. Lajwanti giggled all long as they slipped on the slopes, sometimes having to hold the pine branches to walk… she was amused watching them struggle in the snow. Suddenly, Chandidas embraced Diana as they reached a thicket of trees. Diana felt as if the sun had knocked the snowy top off the hills. She realized that he was trembling with cold. His lips were turning blue. “You‟re cold, Chandi. Let us go back.” She placed her arm around his back and they started walking towards the guest house. Lajwanti was hopping like a squirrel ahead of them. The guest house was quite warm. Pandit had already heated the fireplace. Chandidas was shivering even now. Diana wrapped him in a quilt and asked Pandit to bring a peg of rum. “I feel Sir is suffering from cold. I will bring the extract of an herb.” Pandit said as he vigorously rubbed Chandidas‟s feet. “Herb?” Diana asked. “Yes memsahib. It is very warm. This herb is helpful in this cold weather in the hills.” He asked Lajvanti to massage Chandidas and ran to the kitchen. Diana was curled up on the sofa, worried about Chandidas. Pandit brought the medicine in a cup, gave it to him to drink and suggested that he get some sleep. Diana closed the door when Pandit and Lajwanti left the room and gently stroked his hair. Chandidas was as stiff as a board. He was not used to this weather. His whole body was shivering because of the cold. Diana lay down next to him and tried to give him her body‟s warmth. She stroked his body softly. After a while Chandidas opened his eyes. “How are you Chandi?” “Now I am feeling better… I was feeling like… Oh! Leave it…” “Go on, why did you stop?” “I felt as if my senses would never come back. I felt like I was dying.” Diana was scared. She pressed her lips on his, “Don‟t say such things Chandi, I will die. I cannot imagine my life without you.” Chandidas took her in his arms and held her tightly. The fog was disappearing slowly but the sun did not show its face. It had set quietly as the evening had descended. Now came the darkness… mesmerising the hills and valleys with its dread. At about seven o‟clock in the evening they heard somebody walking outside the room and Diana

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 30 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM stood up. She put on her warm clothes. Chandidas smiled and kissed her. The fragrance of her body lingered in the air. He inhaled deeply and came out of the quilt. “Joy is the source of a contented life… it keeps the soul full of life, but Man does not want to enjoy it to the fullest. He is always busy in struggles, terrorism and corruption. He is not successful in love nor does he get any joy… where is the feeling of joy in destroying others and their property or establishing our own rule?” Just a few hours ago, he had been immersed in the ocean of joy with his beloved. The earth, the sky… nothing was visible… there was only fog and the two of them… the humming of Lajwanti and the breeze from the hills had made them lose control. In that helplessness Diana had surrendered herself and the smoldering embers in Chandidas‟s heart had come ablaze. “Oh Diana you are creation personified…you are my spirit…you are my purpose in life.” He came out of the room and staggered to the verandah, intoxicated in her love. The gibbous moon rose near the hill tops to say goodbye to the darkness. Pandit belonged to the Kumaon hills. He served dinner at the table and said, “Now please do not go out at night. The fog is less and the weather is also better but… ”. He pointed outside the closed window and said, “Can you see that valley… Oh! How stupid of me, how can you see at night? You will see in the morning.” “Go on, what about the valley?” Chandidas ate his soup and asked. “Bapu means to say that there are ghosts in that valley,” said Lajwanti. Damyanti screamed loudly amma and hugged her father tightly. “Oh, my God! what happened?” Diana was taken aback by her scream. “Nothing, you eat your food. I will bring hot chapattis for you.” Said Pandit and went into the kitchen with Damyanti who was still afraid and crying. Lajwanti stood quietly staring at the walls. This was quite unexpected. They were bewildered at what had just happened… ghosts… After dinner, they relaxed on the armchairs near the fireplace and sipped coffee. The atmosphere turned gloomy and they felt uneasy. They had planned to celebrate Chandidas‟s birthday the day after tomorrow. Baba had kept sweets for him and Professor Alter and Diana had planned to go to Nalanda and have a surprise celebration for him. But now this question was disturbing her mind. “Pandit, please come here.” Diana called him. “Yes memsahib.” Pandit said nervously. “You were talking about ghosts. Whose ghost? Do you believe in ghosts?” “Yes, memsahib. It is written in our holy books. Ghosts do exist. Those who cannot fulfill their wishes in this birth become ghosts after their death and their souls roam here and there in the form of the ghosts.” Pandit tried to prove his logic. “Nobody in this world can fulfill all his desires in this world; do they all become ghosts after their death? Pandit, will you also become a ghost…” The flames in the fireplace died down and turned into embers. Diana asked Pandit and his daughters to sit on the carpet. The girls sat down but Pandit kept standing. “No, memsahib ghosts exist, Damyanti gets glimpses of her dead mother even now.” “What? What nonsense. It is impossible.” Chandidas retorted as Diana tried to calm him down. She asked Damyanti, “Tell me Damyanti, do you see your mother even now?” “Yes, sometimes when I go towards the valley.” She started crying.

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Diana touched her lovingly and took her in her arms. “Don‟t cry. Your amma must be thinking of you in heaven, that‟s why you see her in your imagination. She is in God‟s kingdom now. That‟s why she is not here.” “No, she is not with God, she is there in that valley. The Britishers troubled her so much that she killed herself by jumping in the valley…” She could not say anything more, Pandit covered her mouth tightly with his rough palm to keep her quiet, “Shut your mouth, do not say a word.” He took her inside holding her arm. Lajwanti was unmoved. She started speaking quickly to reveal the seriousness of the situation. “That day four Britishers stayed in this guest house. They were all drunk. When bapu went to serve them food, they told him to bring potato chips for them. Bapu was busy frying chips in the kitchen. They wanted some soda. They called my mother who was collecting twigs near the trees outside, they called her in and closed the door… mother was screaming loudly. Bapu knocked hard at the door and we were crying helplessly. Suddenly, mother stopped screaming. Bapu was standing at the door, he could not say anything. The door opened after a long time and Amma came out crying. Her clothes were torn. She ran towards the valley and jumped in it. Bapu tried to hit the Britishers with a bamboo but they were four and Bapu was alone. He could not do anything and they beat him up very badly. Diana drew in a deep breath. A painful sigh escaped her lips and cut through the bloody air. Chandidas tightened his fist in anger. Diana hugged Lajwanti. She sobbed quietly. Diana realised that Lajwanti was a brave and mature girl trying to face the problems in her life with courage. “Lajwanti… all of you should have left this guest house. Why don‟t you go and stay in Simla?” “Bapu has sworn to take revenge. He will leave this place only after killing four Britishers… ” “Arrey, all Britishers are not like them.” Chandidas interrupted, not wanting Diana to feel embarrassed. But Diana was against such brutality. In fact, she was sad that her people behaved so shamelessly with the Indians. She felt ashamed. At night, as she lay in bed with him, she said, “Chandi, we will go to Naledra tomorrow morning, I don‟t want to stay here anymore. Chandidas pressed her head against his chest tightly. “You are very emotional Radhe… don‟t you want to explore this beautiful place? The fog has lifted and the sun will shine tomorrow. We can go sightseeing.” Diana closed her eyes. This is the same room where those four men raped that helpless woman… They destroyed her world…the cheerfulness of these girls, chirping in the house…and the family of this simple man. Will those people ever know how they‟ve ruined these three lives with their disgraceful act and turned their home into a graveyard?” The next afternoon they reached Naledra. The cottage there too was very beautiful. Its sloping roof was made of red metal sheets. It stood amidst a grove of pine and oak trees. Diana looked around for Professor Alter as inspected the luxurious cottage. She sat on the sofa as a short tribal servant brought glasses full of water in a tray. “Where is Professor Alter?” Diana asked. The servant placed the tray on the table and bowed to her, “Sir has gone to Simla, early in the morning. He will come back tomorrow in the evening. Tomorrow we have to celebrate the

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 32 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM birthday.” He looked at Chandidas. “So the Professor has explained everything to him. Perhaps they‟ve planned to celebrate Chandidas‟s birthday in a special way,” thought Diana. “Listen…” Diana said. “Yes… Bhautoo, please call me Bhautoo.” He said shyly. Chandidas and Diana smiled. After the awful incident in Kufree, Chandidas was relieved to see her smile, “Bhautoo, please bring some hot tea for us.” Bhautoo was scared of sahibs but he felt at ease with Chandidas. He chirped, “Sir, I will serve you a special tea from the hills.” There was a harmonium kept ready for Diana, on a large table in the room. She was excited at seeing a harmonium after such a long time. She went in to change her dress and then came and sat near the table. As she played it, a pleasant melody spread all over the room. Chandidas came and sat near her. The harmonium had mesmerized them. Chandidas placed the harmonium near him and asked Diana, “Will you listen to some lyrics?” “I have been longing to listen to you sing. Life seems incomplete without music.” Chandidas began singing… ‗Jara haath diye mala, dite pari nai, Keno mano rakha tare. Bhoole jao aike bare….‘ “Sing Radhe… sing with me… Jara haath diye mala… You have given a garland to somebody and then taken it back, so why do you remember him? Forget him…forget him for ever.” Diana came from behind and put her arms around his neck like a garland, “There, I have forgotten and I have put a garland of my own arms around your neck… I have become your soul mate and going along the sea shore tied to you by the strings of love… alone… where the sea meets the horizon… the moon is peeping from the sky, astonished at the sun taking a dip in the sea.” ‗Jaro kothay, shei akela, oyee tuee alas baishakhe?‘ „I am not alone in this idle Vaishakh month… you are with me… my Kisna… your persona, as expansive as a banyan tree… its shade is also with me… I am not alone. I will travel far riding on the waves of the sea… you will follow me… my beloved.‟ Chandidas began singing with new passion, ‗Tomare vandana kari, swapn sahchari, O amar anagat priya. Amay pavar boke na –pavar trisha jaganiya. Tomare bandana kari, hey amar manas rangini. Atapt yauvan bala, chirantan, vasna sangini. Tomare vandana kari, naam nahi jana…‘ This time Diana was quiet. She understood the song but she was not able to express her feelings. Chandidas placed the harmonium aside and pulled Diana forward from behind him… “O my dream girl, O my soul mate, O my eternal love, I beseech you. You, who quench the thirst in my heart, O my mind‟s passion, I pray to you. O innocent young girl, my life‟s desire… I do not know your name but I pray to you.”

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Diana murmured… “You have given me the name my Kisna…You are my beloved… my lord… my temple, my church… “ Chandidas carried Diana to the bed in his arms. They heard the soft „thud, thud, thud‟ of horses‟ hooves outside. The loud voices of some Britishers could be heard at a distance. The monotonous sounds of Bhautoo cooking vegetables in the kitchen continued in the background. Chandidas closed the door and lit the lamp on the teapoy. The light of the lamp was pale and dim; throwing shadows of everything in the room. The shadows trembled like the wick of the lamp, full of impatience and passion. Now they were unmindful of the sounds. They could hear only their own heartbeats and the rhythm of their breath… Diana felt Chandidas‟s presence inside her and they became oblivious of the world around them. After what seemed like many ages, they heard a bird chirping tihu-tihu, and they came out of their spell. The titahari bird sat on a khubani tree and fluttered its wings. Diana straightened herself as Chandidas whispered in her ear, “Are you happy… Radhe?” “And you? My Chandi…” Chandidas helped her wear her pullover, “I am jealous of my fate.” Diana hurriedly placed her palm on his mouth. Outside in the dinning room Bhautoo placed dinner on the candlelit table. Chandidas raised the lid of a dish and smelled the aroma, “Ah, this is biryani!” “And soup of cauliflower… ” Bhauntoo said as he lay the plates. “Wah, I am very hungry.” Chandidas impatiently placed a spoonful of biryani in his mouth and yelled. Diana giggled teasingly, “You‟ve scalded your mouth.”

***

It had been raining since morning. The raindrops made a musical pitter-patter on the red tin roof. Diana looked at herself in the mirror. She felt a new glow on her face because of Chandidas‟s love, something that she could not get from Tom. Oh, why was she thinking of Tom on this beautiful day? She came up in front of the mirror to change her dress. Today was Chandidas‟s birthday and she wanted to wish him as soon as he woke up. She told Bhautoo to bring a red rose from the garden. He saluted her like an army soldier, as he always did when she asked him for anything. It was raining outside and the deodar trees were moving gravely in the blowing wind, their dead leaves spread on the lawns. Bhautoo‟s shoes crunched on the gravel outside. “It is very cold outside; I will warm up the room. Please keep the doors closed. Bhautoo gave the red rose to Diana and started closing the doors. The window panes were rattling in the wind. The noise was odd but gave her a pleasant feeling… Chandidas woke up stretching his arms and gave him the rose, singing, “Happy birthday to you.” Chandidas was surprised. A celebration of his birthday? It had never happened earlier… he kissed the flower. Diana bent down and kissed his forehead. “May God fulfill all your desires.” “You are my desire Radhe.” He pressed his face in her palms. If he was in Calcutta, Maa would have made him wear new clothes and taken him to the temple of ‗Maa Kaali‘… everything changes with new relationships. Today he was with Diana whom he had accepted as his soul mate, his life partner. This relationship had no social approval

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 34 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM but there was a meeting of hearts. This was not just the momentary rising of waters of a river in the rains, this was a river in full flow, every wave on a mission. Once you are in it you cannot break away from the current… and life reveals its meaning as you flow along. Diana was in the kitchen with Bhautoo. She was giving instructions to cook a special breakfast. His mother also came to help but Diana could not understand their language. As he ate breakfast, Chandidas suggested that Diana come with him for a long walk but Diana was not keen to go because of the weather. Professor Alter would arrive at four o‟clock in the evening. She wanted to go to the church to pray for Chandidas and she was not sure how far away the church was. She was not sure if the weather would hold either. When they were in Simla, it had been snowing, but in Kufri there was dense fog and wind blowing in the rain. They could not be certain of the Professor‟s arrival. The road had been empty since morning. There were no people around. Professor Alter reached there at four o‟clock even though it had been highly unlikely “Oh Professor, we thought that….” “…That I wouldn‟t be able to come. Don‟t forget that I am a teacher… always punctual… that‟s what we teach our students.” He smiled and presented a large bouquet of flowers to Chandidas wishing him, “Happy birthday to you, handsome.” “Handsome!!” Chandidas had a great laugh. They sat down on the sofa comfortably. “So, how did you like Kufree, Naledra…?” We are tired of the weather, it is so bad.” It was the Professor who laughed now. There was a certain bonhomie in his laugh which made the bare room very cheerful. “Come now, the weather will not trouble you. The car is parked outside, let‟s go for a drive.” “Yes, why not? Chandidas also wants to go out.” Diana said. The cold wind enveloped them as they stepped out. But this time Chandidas was not troubled by the cold. He thought of how he had managed to stay there for so many days… by the strength of Diana‟s love alone. The car began moving and the wind seemed to slow down. The clouds floating in the sky seemed still, as if they were resting. A few Britishers were playing golf at the golf grounds. Their ladies were walking nearby with a dog on leash. A British couple was kissing behind a tree. Perhaps they were not married, maybe just young, attractive and naughty lovers. They kept kissing each other and laughed without a care in the world. They ran around the tree and kissed again. Chandidas and Diana glanced at each other and looked away. “Mr. Sengupta, you‟ll be busy with your classes once you reach Calcutta. It is true that an artist has no time for leisure. Life is fast for them, it is so slow for people like us… very difficult to pass time,” said the Professor. “We cannot change our fate, even if we wish to. Do you believe in fate, Professor?” “Yes, I do now after the demise of my beloved wife.” The Professor gazed at the pine trees alongside the road… a sad experience… all the scenes were vivid in his mind, those fond memories… the happiness of becoming a father… and the harsh reality of life… the death of his soul mate during childbirth…” They strolled on the wet grass. The pine leaves bristled under their feet. The leaves on the branches above trembled. Slowly the atmosphere turned golden with the onset of the evening… and it became dark after some time. The lamp posts lit up.

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“Mr. Sengupta… do you see that lamp post… it seems like it‟s spreading a very cool light but actually it‟s fiery inside. Things aren‟t always what they seem.” The Professor‟s voice was full of pain… smoldering pain. “You have to forget the past. Please do not make your life a burden… Nobody can do anything against God‟s will.” Chandidas tried to comfort him. “Come I will sing a ghazal for you when we reach the cottage.” Diana tried to change the topic. The car turned back towards the cottage. The weather had become pleasant. A throng of people had come out on the streets for a stroll. A stranded bird dipped its head in a pond and flew to its nest, fluttering its wings… where its flock was chirping and frolicking. It took them nearly three hours to return. Diana and Chandidas were surprised at seeing the drawing room…. Bhautoo had changed the look of the room completely. All four corners of the room were decorated with beautiful flower arrangements, streamers of crepe paper spelt out ‗Happy Birthday to Mr. Sengupta‘ on the wall. There was a cake with candles on the table. “Oh my goodness… ” Diana looked at the Professor and said, “This is really a surprise.” “I could guess in Calcutta itself that both of you are made for each other… ” This time Chandidas was surprised… so this was the reason why the Professor had invited both of them together. “Love is God‟s gift. I have been yearning for it. Misfortune has ruined my family life. Even my country… the situation was such that I had to leave my country. Sometimes when I‟m homesick I am surprised at myself because I don‟t even have a home to feel sick for?” The Professor had wrinkles of pain etched all over his face. “You have arranged everything so beautifully that I feel like having a drink with you.” “Really? The Professor smiled, “Thanks… but first you must cut the cake.” Diana lit a matchstick. A clear yellow light from the candles spread across the room. The darkness edged closer to the flames of the candles. There was an intense stillness in the room… Chandidas cut the cake and put one piece in Diana‟s mouth, and then he offered the cake to the Professor. Alter began singing a birthday song in his deep voice. The silent atmosphere broke into delight. The Professor served some beer to Diana and Chandidas and said, “You had promised us that you will sing a ghazal for us.” Bhautoo brought the harmonium. Diana cleared her throat and in a few moments her sweet voice was floating in the air. Bhautoo stood speechless near the door, listening to the song. The Professor closed his eyes in delight and Chandidas gazed at her with love. It seemed that time had come to a standstill… surprised that the rhythm of the song was faster than itself. The music cut through the silence of the evening in the hills. Bhautoo had cooked a delicious dinner. Chandidas was already feeling intoxicated. He was not used to drinking but the weather was too alluring. The Professor rattled off a few jokes and kept the atmosphere jovial, hardly showing his sorrow. The night was young. This was the last evening for Diana and Chandidas in these hills. The next day they were to leave for Calcutta. The whole cottage was drowned in silence. The Professor had already retired to his room. Perhaps Bhautoo had too… because there was no sound from the kitchen. The moon was knocking at the window panes, inviting them to share its joy. Day by day, it had changed in shape from a full to a gibbous moon... It was the eighth day of

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 36 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM the full moon, eight days…eight days full of love… and today when Chandidas embraced Diana, the silence in the room was full of meaning… it seemed that they are not apart…they were one, united in each other. If one was happy, so was the other. If one was sad, the other was full of sorrow. Immersed in erotic pleasure… the pleasure of surrender, with its pain which did not seem to hurt… instead it gave them bliss. Chandidas‟s love arose, eager to touch the moon. This excitement was full of pain which had arisen from pleasure, and was pain no longer… Late in the night, Chandidas separated from Diana… Diana tensed up but drifted off to sleep. Chandidas covered her half naked body with the blanket and stretched himself. As the hills slept, the wind showed its presence by gently swinging the branches of the trees. Even otherwise, forests are never silent. Nature always makes its reassuring presence felt. Time began passing quickly. Diana and Chandidas came out of their reverie as mixed feelings escaped into the air. There was the gentle flutter of their love, the sadness of the life of Professor Alter… the sickening memory of the broken family in Kufree. The innocent faces of Lajwanti and Damyanti smiled in front of Diana‟s eyes as if asking, “Memsahib… will we get justice or not… are we only a toy for your people?” Diana was disturbed, knowing that she could do nothing for them. The Professor took them to church. She bowed her head in prayer, “Oh God, please give them a happy life… take away their sorrow. May Chandidas and I be successful in every step of our life… I have only this desire.” “Amen... ” the priest closed the Bible. Candles were lit beneath the statue of Jesus Christ making it shine in its majesty. Diana closed her eyes again and placed her hand in Chandidas‟s hands. The Professor drove down the winding slopes. Short, wild rose shrubs were blooming with pink, red and white flowers. There were strawberries lined alongside the road. The deodar trees stood silently; mute witnesses to the splendour of the coming spring... Both of them got down from the car and sat in the jeep. The Professor shook their hands warmly and bid them farewell… “Okay Mrs. Blair, Mr. Sengupta… we will meet again by the grace of the God.” “Definitely… I invite you to visit Calcutta.” The impression of the leaving jeep lingered in the Professor‟s eyes for some time. When he returned home, the cottage was strangely silent as if it were impatient to engulf him within its walls… God knows how much time it would take to get back to normal routine.

***

The jeep came to a halt at Chandidas‟s house after dropping Diana at her bungalow. Everybody in the house was waiting for him. Munmun opened the door the moment she heard the noise of the jeep. She ran out yelling, “Dada has come.” He got off the jeep… his eyes gleaming with happiness. The ten days he had spent in Simla were like ten lifetimes for him. It seemed as if he had taken a new birth each day, completely soaked in Diana‟s love during the day and bid good bye like a firefly at night. He touched his father‟s feet and sat down on a chair. The glow on his face was visible and he was full of energy after coming back. “How was your trip?” Baba asked, looking at his face intently. “It is a very beautiful place… like heaven. You cannot feel time passing in a place like this.” “Yes, but the weather was changing every now and then.” Baba said.

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“You must have read it in the newspaper… that is how it is in the hills Baba, sometimes snowing, sometimes there is fog or it rains and storms as well…” Munmun brought some tea. “Where is Gungun? Is she not here?” “When is she here?” Baba asked sarcastically. Mother sipped the tea loudly and said, “You have started again. It is not good to say such things about a young girl.” “She is a young girl; that is why I am worried.” Chandidas bathed and got ready to go and meet Nandlal. He asked Baba to find out about an auspicious time for vastu puja at the new art classes. Gangulimoshai knew that he had to inaugurate the classes but he had to be informed about the time. Nandlal met him on the road, “I was coming to you.” He shook Chandidas‟s hand and said, “The magical weather of the hills seems to have affected you my friend, you are looking very handsome.” “Oh, so you are jealous of me.” Chandidas slapped him on his back. “Why not...? Here I am fed up of my loneliness. It seems that I will leave this world lamenting like this at the end of my life.” Suddenly, Chandidas became serious. “Nandlal, you know everything, don‟t you? Tell me the truth.” Both of them turned their bicycles towards Diana‟s bungalow. The roads were crowded with vehicles... pedestrians, rickshaws, horses, jeeps and carriages. Sunlight reflected off the black and red uniforms of the servants. Long shadows of gulmohar trees looked like paintings on the earth at the gates of the bungalows. Birds chirped merrily, lending a kind of music to the atmosphere. Nandlal replied, “Yes Chandidas I know everything about the relationship between you and Diana and I am worried for you. Nobody knows what will happen now. Tom is a very dangerous man. He hates Indians.” They reached the gate and Chandidas kept his hand on Nandu‟s shoulders, “You are with me, are you not?” “Yes, always. Do not worry.” Nandu reassured Chandidas. Bonomali opened the door, “Oh, your good self sir?” He took them inside the drawing room very respectfully. Diana was sitting on the sofa reading a book. She closed the book and smiled, “Hello… I was just thinking of you.” Hot tea and snacks were served. They began discussing the music academy project which had been held up for about ten days. The discussion went on till late evening as they debated everything threadbare. It started becoming dark on the streets. The lights on the lamp posts had come on. “The vastu puja will be performed at nine o‟clock in the morning after the inauguration on Friday. The time may be changed because Baba has not yet spoken to the pundit.” Chandidas said as he got up. Nandlal took the project file and went outside. Perhaps he wanted to give them some time to be alone with themselves. The moment he went outside Diana poured out her enthusiasm, like a torrent of rain, “Your dream will come true, Kisna.”

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“Not just mine. It is our dream project. There will be seven colours in our vision. The colours of love and affection.” Chandidas kissed Diana as Nandlal mischievously rang his bicycle‟s bell. Chandidas smiled and came out of the bungalow. It was decided that Munmun would come by rickshaw with her teacher Mukut Ganguli. The auspicious time for the vastu puja was at half past nine in the morning. The inauguration would be at nine o‟clock. Diana had arranged for snacks and tea for all the invitees and a garland, shawl and a coconut for Mukut Ganguly. There would be about thirty guests - ten to fifteen of Chandidas‟s friends, six girls who were learning music with Munmun and a few of Gungun‟s Comrade friends. Diana wore a fine-looking yellow and white printed dress. Paro had put a red bindi on her forehead. She was looking gorgeous, her face shining like pink marble. Blossom, the kitten, followed her to the gate, her tail standing in the air… She picked her up in her arms. “Will you take her also?” “Yes she will sit in the car. The function will finish in one or two hours, won‟t it?” “It will be late because the puja will take time. She will not be able to sit in the car for so long.” Paro said. Bonomali took Blossom in his arms from Diana. “I will bring her afterwards. Till then she will have her milk and breakfast.” “All right.” Diana sat in the car carefully holding her beautiful dress by the sides. The car drove towards Camac Street. It was a quarter to nine by her watch. Diana wanted to be there quickly. Every second, every moment was flying past her and she could not catch it… from the shadows of the trees, the haste of the mornings which was all around in the streets. Time seemed to lose itself in the rays of the sun… She was eager to meet Baba, Gungun and Munmun and Mother. If she did not reach on time, everybody would get busy in their work. How could she stop the time… slow her watch down…? She had a strong desire to meet them, talk to them… Exactly at nine o‟clock they reached the academy. Munmun‟s rickshaw also reached there with Mukut Ganguly, Nandlal following close behind respectfully. A red ribbon was tied at the entrance. “Maa… Baba… this is Diana.” Chandidas pointed out towards Diana. Diana understood. Today she was meeting them as Chandidas‟s beloved, not Tom‟s wife. Maa was wearing an almond coloured saree with a red border. Her long hair was loose. Diana bent down to touch her feet. Maa stopped her and embraced her, not realizing that she was not letting her pay her respects. Baba was too delighted to even think of stopping her from touching his feet. And quite unexpectedly, Munmun touched Diana‟s feet almost as if she was asking for her blessings, “You are my brother‟s inspiration, you are his dream companion.” But she did not say anything. Diana observed Chandidas‟s family, all of them full of love and affection, full of kindness… a family of artists... Now she had no reservations. She touched Mukut Ganguly‟s feet… “Diana Blair, Chandi says that you sing very well.” “Yes a little, I wish to learn from you.” “You are learning from Chandi. He is very talented and a scholar... If he is teaching you, you do not have to learn from anyone else.” Diana felt proud of Chandidas. Mukut Ganguli entered the hall after inaugurating the Music Academy. Chandidas welcomed him with a garland and placed a shawl on his shoulders. Gungun arrived just then and said, “Oh, is the inauguration over?” Her face was sweating profusely.

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“Where were you Gungun?” But she was too flustered to listen. She touched Mukut Ganguly‟s feet and embraced Diana, “Oh my God, I have been longing to meet you for such a long time… Sukant, she is Diana Blair.” Sukant wished her. Diana could not make out who was elder, Gungun or Munmun? Munmun was shy, simple and silent, Gungun was full of liveliness, taking on all responsibilities… a completely different personality… with a burning passion in her eyes… as if she would rest only after reaching her goal. After meeting Diana, Sukant and Gungun went to help with the arrangements for tea and snacks. The guests began seating themselves on the mats spread on the floor of the room. Pundit ji started the vastu puja. Maa and Baba also sat down for the puja. Chandidas and Nandlal stood at the door as if they were climbing the first step of their dream land. Diana stood nearby like a shadow. A feeling of satisfaction set on their faces though they knew that an enlightened person cannot be completely happy and satisfied in this world… Diana looked at Chandidas as he turned towards her, “See this is the palace of my music… here lives the music that comes out of every pore in my body.” The morning sun beamed with joy. Chandidas had reached his goal, Diana‟s eyes welled up with tears. The musical instruments began playing. Everybody sang one by one. Mukut Ganguli was eager to listen to Diana after Chandidas, Nandlal and Munmun sang their songs. Diana had learned that, in India, there was special respect shown towards the Guru. While talking about the Guru, one showed respect by touching ones ears. But her Guru, her very life was in front of her. She touched the feet of Chandidas before pulling the harmonium towards her. Chandidas‟s eyes were moist… he showered her with his blessings. She began singing—―Van upvan mein. Chanchal more man mein, kunj kunj firay shyam…‖ Mukut Ganguli was very appreciative. Gungun and Sukant came running, leaving the plates behind. Munmun was astonished, “She can sing so well!!!” The song got over but the atmosphere remained full of life. Everyone was quiet for a while but then, one by one, they all started clapping and praising her performance. Everyone left after having breakfast. Diana sent her car to drop Chandidas‟s family to their house. Chandidas and Diana stayed back at the academy. “You have done a miracle today, Radhey. You have won everyone‟s heart.” “Are you happy, Chandi? I‟ll feel like a winner if it gives you pleasure. When are you going to start the classes?” “From tomorrow itself. Why delay now? Munmun will also teach here after her examinations.” “Yes, she is capable of teaching music in the academy. Your younger sister is a special one, at this young age she is as mature as a grand old woman. Chandidas smiled. “You have met her for a short while…you will see her more often and will realize how much more responsible she is. She has the emotions of a musician and saddens and laughs like a small child, as if she has to bear the burden of the whole of creation on her shoulders. Chandidas placed a piece of sandesh in Diana‟s mouth saying, “I have not given you any sweets yet.” Diana took half the piece in her mouth and moved it towards Chandidas‟s lips. Chandidas took the other half and their lips touched each other. Suddenly, Nandlal came inside and coughed politely, “May I come in?”

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And their laughter echoed in the room for a long time.

***

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3 It is mentioned in the Rig Veda, an ancient Indian sacred collection of Vedic Sanskrit hymns, that at the time of creation, there was the Self which came into existence in the form of the human male. Diana was deep in reflection. Her mind was in turmoil after reading numerous books from all over the world. She was losing her mental peace, consumed by the fact that she was a woman and she was destined to clash with the male ego. In ancient Greece, philosophers held a disapproving view of women. Their thinking was that a woman is incomplete. She is not a perfect human being and possesses many shortcomings. This view was accepted in the West at that time and had not been dismissed since, even in today‟s modern times. Rousseau and Voltaire, both well-regarded contemporary philosophers, also subscribed to this view. They believed that the female was a detrimental force which always troubled the male. But Diana‟s thinking was different. Professor Alter came into her life as a friend, Tom as a husband and Chandidas as a lover. She had seen different aspects of all these three personalities. If the woman was a source of harm, Alter would not have spent his life in devotion to his wife… and Chandidas a true lover; he does not consider a woman to be detrimental. On the contrary he feels that he is not a complete man without a woman. A woman is a kind of toy for Tom, to satisfy his lust, and an obsession, like a craving for wine. She felt that most of the world‟s literature was the writer‟s personal opinion based on their experiences and thoughts. But she would write something different based on her feelings of love. She would reveal that Chandidas had a part of Lord Krishn in his inner self, that Lord Krishn is a leeladhari, of whom every gopi thought that he was solely hers. “Memsahib, sir has come” Bonomali interrupted her thought process. George followed him holding a leather briefcase full of files. He kept the bag on the table. “Hi… how are you?” Tom smiled and looked at Diana. He took off his hat and handed it to Bonomali. “How was your trip to Simla?” Diana smiled silently. Tom was looking fresh and happy. He sat down on the sofa and began undoing his belt. Bonomali took his shoes off for him. Diana disliked this routine of being served by someone in this way but she knew that Tom would never get rid of it. Suddenly, Diana was surprised at hearing the soft squealing of little pups. Bonomali had returned holding two little puppies in his arms. Tom told him to place them on the sofa and ordered him to bring some coffee. Diana felt amused by the puppies. She went up to them and said, “Oh, how lovely they are.” “You like them? They‟re for you. They‟re mongrels.” Diana lifted them on her lap. They seemed frightened. “I‟ve given them their names. The white one is Bess and the brown one is Porgi. Porgi‟s very naughty, like me”… and he laughed loudly. Blossom saw the puppies in the lap of its mistress. She jumped and sat on Diana‟s shoulders. When Diana patted her lovingly she was satisfied and jumped down. She smelled the pups inquisitively and rubbed them with her paws. The pups calmed down. Diana placed them on the carpet gently and they started playing with Blossom. Tom picked up the telephone to make a call. Diana was no longer bothered about Tom and his activities. She belonged to Chandidas completely now and she would accept no one else in her private world of love. As she got up,

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 42 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM she heard Nadira‟s name in the conversation that Tom was having. She glanced at Tom who seemed to be talking cheerfully with Nadira… “Yes, yes, it‟s been a long time since I saw you. I missed you terribly in the valleys of Darjeeling.” Diana would normally have been disturbed by her husband talking to another lady so intimately. But she was indifferent. On the contrary, she felt more secure and her mind was free. If Tom did his own thing, she would have no problem. It was early evening as dusk settled. Diana was strolling in the lawn. She was very eager to meet Chandidas. She could not talk to him on the phone because Tom was working with his files near the telephone. Chandidas would come to teach her music only the day after tomorrow. Until then she would have to live with thoughts of love. The evening sky seemed to glow. What all would be happening around the world right now? Her existence was just like a drop of water but it had a wonderful capacity of becoming an ocean of love… perhaps she had been born only for this purpose and had found herself in India to fulfill her destiny. The world carries the burden of everyone‟s desires, intentions and ambitions. But what will be the end of all these things? The expansion of the East India Company, its trade and business… the competition to modernize and the greed to earn more and more money. Many young ladies from England had come to India to get married to rich grooms with stars in their dreamy eyes. What would happen at the end…? Diana reflected on this as she reclined on a chair. She heard the voice of Nadira from the verandah. “Hi Diana, I know that Mr. Blair has returned from Darjeeling and that doesn‟t mean that you will not play badminton with me now. I‟ve been getting bored here all alone for the past two weeks; your visit to Simla and then the inauguration of the music academy. You seem to be lost in your world these days.” “Come on, let‟s play a couple of games.” Diana asked Bonomali to bring the racquets and a shuttle cock and to set up the badminton net. Diana complained while playing, “Why didn‟t you come for the inauguration of the music academy?” “What could I do? Commissioner Sahib was at home on that day and you know how busy I am when he is at home.” Nadira‟s beautiful face turned pink like a moist rose as she jumped up and served for the game. And then Tom arrived. They finished the game and sat down on a bamboo futon in the verandah. Paro brought them some snacks and tea. “You‟re always on tour,” Nadira looked at Tom and lowered her eyes. Diana saw the hunger of lust in Tom‟s eyes, perhaps that was why Nadira did not look him straight in his eyes. Diana described the academy‟s inauguration function as she sipped her tea. She did not want Tom to say anything distasteful in front of Nadira but he was not one to miss a chance. Ancient Indian wisdom had it that a man changes himself during different stages of his life; he is a different person during childhood, youth and again during old age… We are not the same people as we were a moment ago but somehow a subtle continuity remains. An incessant chirping of birds emanated from the banyan tree near the sloping road. It was becoming dark rapidly, almost as if the darkness wanted to imprison the light before it could disappear. “Do you sing, Nadira?” Tom broke the silence. “Yes, I do. In our society it is considered to be an important talent to have for girls. Just like we have to learn cooking, stitching and housework, it is essential for us to learn music too. In our

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 43 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM families when we settle the girl‟s marriage, the groom‟s family tests the would-be-bride‟s voice to see how well she can sing and if her voice is melodious or not.” Nadira‟s eyes were shining, “Diana, do you know why this is so?” “I can tell you whatever little I know.” Diana said softly. In this country, the seasons change and every season has its own songs and Ragas. Chaiti is sung in the month of Chaitra. There are different songs for sowing and harvesting crops, different ones for the rainy season, for autumn and for spring. During marriage celebrations, there are different rituals like haldi, varmala, kaleva and vidai, piercing the nose and ears, mundan and janeu when ladies sing special songs.” Nadira was surprised at Diana‟s understanding of Indian culture. “I really admire your knowledge about our Indian traditions. I had never really understood the significance of these songs. Really, hats off to you.” Diana smiled, “Some more Nadira, there are different songs for different occasions; when a child is born they sing sohar to tease the mother and her sister-in-law.” “Indeed, what a nice meaning behind that ritual? Really, you are a true and well-informed singer. Soon chaitra will start after the month of falgun. Please sing a chaiti for me,” requested Nadira. Tom was quiet and thinking of something else. It was time to have a drink and his cravings had begun. He was not in a mood to listen to a song, so he got up and said, “Leave it for another day Nadira, I am tired and want to sleep early.” But there was already music in the air. Diana was not bothered if Tom wanted to listen to her song or not. Tom excused himself and went inside clumsily. Diana began humming, then started singing in a melodious voice. Chandidas had taught her this Bhojpuri song a few days ago. ‗Rama chait ki nindiya badi bairaniya ho Rama. Sutlo balamva na jage ho Rama. Chadat chait chit na lage ho Rama, Baba ke bhawanva, Ur beech uthat dahanvan ho Rama.‘ Unexpectedly, Nadira started singing along with her. Nadira matched Diana note for note. Diana was unaware of this aspect of Nadira‟s personality. It seemed as if she had many faces, like in pieces of a broken mirror, one face reflecting in each piece separately. When Diana returned after leaving Nadira to the door, Tom was pouring his second drink. Diana slipped off her shoes and went to the wash room to freshen up. The festival of Holi was approaching. The days had started becoming warm though the nights were still quite cool. She took out her beautiful white dress with black buttons. She was lost in thought at the sight of that dress. Chandidas had called her chandni when she had worn this dress in front of him. “You look like chandrika, a moonbeam in this gorgeous dress Radhe… Do you know that there is a dark spot on the moon, but you are spotless and virtuous like marble?” “Do you know that the spot on the moon is not a blemish, it is its sentinel? Nobody can look at it with a bad glance because of that spot.” Chandidas was speechless at the intelligent reply from Diana. He was always impressed by her knowledge and power of reasoning. Perhaps this was the reason why he wanted Diana to start writing also. She should pen down all her experiences… so that she could develop her abilities more professionally. Diana too was mindful of this. She wanted to write on Indianness and the ruthless regime of the East India Company.

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But Tom wanted to reach the heights of the sky. He was pressing her to start her business in Bombay and Calcutta. He wanted to buy a mansion in the exclusive Malabar Hills in Bombay. Diana had never given a serious thought to this proposal. Tom started the same topic again when she returned after freshening up. “You should think it over, there are many opportunities in Bombay. I know you‟re not interested in expanding your business here but just give it a thought… soon we will have kids, our family will be larger, and our needs will also grow more by the day. We will have to earn more money to meet our requirements.” “Tom, you‟re not aware of the political unrest in this country. There is a growing number of people who are ready to kill and die for freedom. The country is taking a new course. An awakening is spreading all over. Anything can happen at any time. Is this a suitable time to start our business here?” “Oh Diana, that‟s nonsense. Nothing‟s going to happen. We have guns and they have only feelings. These followers of Gandhi take bullets on their chests; fools, idiots… they don‟t know how to fight.” Tom laughed scornfully. His wicked laughter smoldered like sparks of fire in her ears for a long time. Tom had a lot of smugness in the power of guns but he did not know that these very guns were useless in facing a horde of rampaging elephants. This was happening all over the world. Friendly nations had destroyed France. The British wanted soldiers for war but the Congress of Gandhi was demanding a free government at the Centre in return for help in the war effort. The British were not ready to agree to this compromise. They were not agreeable to the notion of Independence… and then Satyagrah Andolan had begun. Tom called them fools and idiots but these people were making the British whimper. It was difficult to manage the prisons; the slogan of jail bharo; fill up the jails, did not leave even an inch of space in the prisons. Now it was difficult to manage them… the whole system was in a shambles. Diana wished whole heartedly that India should be a free country. Her Chandi should live in his free country. Breathing the intoxicating air of freedom is a birthright. But right now… the intoxication was in the wine with a bitter truth… a travesty of life; that she was Tom‟s slave… and her body to which only Chandidas had a right… her body which yearned restlessly for Chandidas… and Tom was enjoying it as his right. She was helpless, she had to satisfy Tom‟s lust; it was her misfortune that refused to leave her even though she was passionless about Tom. She whispered to herself silently, keeping her tears in her eyes with the crushing feelings of these unwanted moments, “My Kisna…forgive me.”

***

Munmun had begun teaching at the music academy after her examinations. The students enrolled were increasing day by day. Chandidas had divided them into two groups; one in the morning and the other in the evening. Nandlal helped him in the mornings and Munmun in the evenings… now he couldn‟t go to Diana‟s place regularly to teach her. Diana suggested that he appoint a music teacher for the evening classes. “But we will have to pay a salary if we appoint somebody.” Chandidas was hesitant. “That‟s OK, you have more students and can pay the salary from their fees. Why are you worried Chandi? When will you use my help?”

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Chandidas was not happy accepting any help from Diana. The relationship which he had with Diana was beyond everything, be it money, society or even personal difficulties. He wanted to go through all this by himself without involving his beloved. Accepting her help was against his principles. He laughed and said, “My treasurer… let me fill up my treasure chest with money then I will borrow from you.” Diana was perplexed by his principles. There was Tom, on the one hand, who was after her wealth and used her like a candle, to be lighted only at night, and on the other hand there was Chandidas whom Diana worshipped like God; lamps of their love floated slowly on the river of love. Diana‟s wealth was immaterial to Chandidas. He had no interest in using it for his own purpose. A colleague of Munmun soon began teaching in the music academy in the evenings. Now Chandidas had a little more time to himself and to visit Diana to teach her. When he asked Satyajit about his salary expectations, he replied humbly, “What kind of question is that, Dada? I am Munmun‟s friend, that‟s why I have come here. I will ask you for money when I need it. Chandidas noticed that Satyajit looked at Munmun affectionately and Munmun lowered her gaze to the floor. Gungun felt a little low and trembled as she walked with Sukant in the cool breeze. The road ahead was clear but Munmun‟s heart was like a lost bird searching for its nest. The path seemed muddy… her goal was clear but there was confusion in her mind… a tension, but for what reason…? Worry, for what purpose? Like she was swimming in the cold waves of a river and her body was shrinking. Sukant took her hand in his and said, “Gungun… if you remain so quiet we will not be able to do anything.” Suddenly, she felt a rush of enthusiasm reflecting on her pale face, “We will be able to do everything. Sometimes, I am lost and forget the world for a while; that is my past. You are my present, Sukant; always present in my soul. Do you know how many people will get married today? How many palkies will carry brides to their new homes?” “You are drifting, Gungun. We are going to get married to the freedom of our country. We will choose only this path for our married life. Gungun felt a jolt when she heard Sukant. Just a few moments ago she was not able to decide which path she had to follow. The unknown way, the strange roads had been intimidating her… but now she had been resolute and strong. She wanted to tell Sukant that she had met Shishir Bose two days ago at his bungalow in Woodburn Park. Many people from the Indian National Army, Azad Hind Fauj, had gathered there. Everybody had only one concern; how to provide safety for Netaji in these difficult times. The British disliked him and were all set to arrest him. Netaji had decided that it was not safe for him to stay back in India so he had already started planning to go to another country. But how would he go? It was a serious matter. Gungun had heard that a firm plan was in the offing and was to be implemented soon after Netaji‟s return from Bombay. Even otherwise, the whole country was teeming with different organizations, rules, regulations and plans, but they all had the same aim - to win freedom for the country. It was not a matter of having to die or to kill for this. Netaji wanted to kill and win freedom and his views were different from those of Gandhiji. It was for this reason that he had resigned as president of the Congress and formed a new group named Forward Bloc. His purpose of going to Bombay was to initiate the work of his new party and to develop its organisation. He stayed at the residence of a famous businessman Jatashankar Dossa Chechani

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 46 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM in Bombay. Chechani was the owner of a coal mine in Dhanbad. He was a very influential person and had very good contacts with the leaders of Calcutta and Bombay. Basically, he believed in the Congress ideology. As their first step, the revolutionaries planned to take out a huge procession in honour of Netaji. This was an open challenge to the British because they could arrest him on any excuse. People joined the procession from different places, starting from south Bombay all the way to Chowpatty. Many newspapers, like Bombay Herald, Bombay Chronicle, Bombay Samachar and Dainik Vishwamitr, published photographs with the news of the procession and thus the Forward Bloc was established. Netaji met Comrade Dange during this trip. This meeting became the foundation of their warm relationship because Netaji insisted that he recognize and support the Forward Bloc. He also met Veer Savarkar, who was playing an exceptional role in the freedom struggle. Gungun had a very clear picture of the Azad Hind Fauj‟s aims and objectives… it was to give the British sleepless nights making them feel that their reign was now on shaky ground. Even though they kept a close watch on Netaji‟s activities, they were not able to arrest him. Gungun came to know from reliable sources in the party that Netaji was unwell after returning from Bombay. But it was certain that Netaji would leave India. This difficult task was deputed to Comrade Doctor Gangadhar Adhikari. Gungun‟s blood was boiling inside her… She was like a soldier, ready to sacrifice her body, mind and financial resources to play any role, even the smallest one, to help execute this plan. Sukant was unaware of these developments. He had returned from his grandparents‟ house after staying there for one week… a lot of things had happened during his absence. He asked Gungun about the activities of the party as they walked together kicking at pebbles on the road. Gungun looked about quickly like a seasoned spy. There were one or two people on the road, no danger… only then, in a hushed voice, did she tell him about Netaji‟s plan of leaving the country. “What will our role in this plan be?” “The same as a brick has in building a house. We well build our home of freedom together.” Sukant was enamoured by Gungun‟s reply. He believed that a person takes birth only once and after death… there is no soul… nor rebirth… that was why he loved his country so much and Gungun as well. His house was nearby but he did not want to leave Gungun. He came to a standstill as they reached the road leading to his house. Darkness was setting in groves of mango and guava trees. The caretaker was shooing away the parrots so that they would not spoil the fruits. The noise sounded eerie in the silence of the evening. The parrots perched themselves on the tree branches to take shelter in the night. Sukant‟s father was sitting on his arm chair in the verandah. “Will you come to my home?” Sukant asked hesitantly. “Will you offer me coffee in your house?” Both of them entered the house cheerfully. Gungun bent down to touch the feet of Sukant‟s father. “Arre… arre… let it be, daughter.” He studied her face carefully and said, “You study with Sukant?” “Yes… Baba… Ghosh babu got up, pleasantly surprised that Gungun had addressed him as Baba. “Arre where are you… Aai Puku… see who has come!” And he brought her in the drawing room. By then, Sukant‟s mother brought some sweets in a plate, “Sit…sit, I will bring coffee for you, we will talk after that.”

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Gungun was mentally prepared to spend her whole life in this homely place. But she had no life to spend. She looked around the drawing room helplessly. Ghoshal babu ate a sweet quickly, “Eat…eat, these are the days to eat sweets. Gandhiji is all set with his stick to drive the Britishers out of our country. “Yes Baba... we all are ready… we will rest only after we get freedom.” Gungun ate a piece of sweet. “Our Netaji is also working wholeheartedly to win freedom for the country. I am ready to shed my blood… I want to get rid of these Britishers… Arre, our country… our wealth… we are treated like labourers and they put so many taxes on us… and if we don‟t pay them, they punish us… so much exploitation.” “But Baba, some people praise the British. They say, it provides peace and harmony.” “My girl, it is these merchants of death who have sold our country to the Britishers. It is with their support that the Britishers have entered our country in the guise of trade. These traitors have earned a lot of gold coins for their generations to come, and our bloodstains are there on those coins. It will not bear them any fruit.” “So why don‟t we set that straight first?” Ghoshal babu looked at Gungun with affection… so much passion for doing something great in life at such a young age! He used to advise Sukant to complete his studies first and only then think of something else but now there was no time left. The Congress revolution was fanning out fast… each and every soldier of the Azad Hind Fauj was ready to spread the flames. Trade Unions had been established. The British government was ready to arrest the leaders and to abolish trade unions… Communists had arisen in the form of intellectuals. The Akhil Bhartiya Adhiveshan had grown like a star in Lucknow. The Congress cabinet of ministers had been established… it was impossible to ignore so many events… then how could he stop Sukant and Gungun… “I am an old man but I can walk behind you for sure.” Mother brought coffee. “Aai Puku… I said that our country will be a free India… when we have such brave girls, why do we need to depend on others?” Mother looked at Gungun carefully, “Your brother runs the music classes, isn‟t it?” “Music is the bugle of revolution.” Ghoshal babu sipped his coffee. “You will keep saying such things… let me ask. Her brother teaches music to that English lady whose husband is so cruel… Blair, yes he is Blair.” “Be quiet Maa… what connection does Gungun have with that?” Sukant tried to control the situation and turned to Gungun, “Come I will leave you to your house… It is getting dark.” “It is already very dark. Take your bicycle and go along with her.” Ghoshal babu got up. Gungun touched his feet again before leaving. She considered him to be a man of serious ideas though Maa was a common housewife. Gungun reached the gate pushing aside the overgrown creepers; she felt a thorn prick her finger… the plants were full of flowers and leaves… purple Bougainvillea flowers and green leaves… she took the thorn out of her flesh and sucked her finger. She saw a lady coming out of a small room nearby. She was in a white saree and wore no blouse… a white sandalwood bindi on her forehead, covering her bald head with the pallo of her saree –“Where are you going Sukant?” “Bua… just close by.” Sukant beckoned at Gungun. A lone lamp lit the room. The walls were black with soot from the lamp… Gungun could smell the aroma of food being cooked. The

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 48 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM lady pretended as if she did not see Gungun and started plucking white chandni flowers for her evening prayers. Sukant explained on the way, “Bua became a widow four years ago.” “But that small room?” Gungun was perplexed. “She stays there… she cooks her own food there… she is not allowed to eat normal food like ours… there are religious restrictions… this is the state of our widows.” Gungun trembled disbelievingly… If this was life then she rejected it. Is life and death in the hands of a person? Who will go first from this world or who will not… why was someone else blamed for it? Gungun was gloomy on the way home. The stars were looked pretty in the night. As they reached Gungun‟s house, she saw a lemon cut in pieces, sprinkled with vermilion and rye, lying on the road. “What is this?” asked Sukant as Gungun got off the bicycle. “If an English lady had asked this question, I would have understood. But you are a Bengali then you should know about black magic. Today is a new moon night. It is a night of black magic.” “Did you feel bad about what Maa said to you?” “Yes I felt bad when she spoke about Mrs. Blair. It is not easy to be like Diana. She has all good qualities in her. She knows our Indian culture even better than we do… she speaks Hindi, Sanskrit and Bengali fluently.” “I apologise on behalf of Maa.” “Sukant, I told you to dislike only the bad deeds of a person, not the person. Neither are all Britishers bad, nor all Indians good. This is another reason why the Britishers rule us and we are their slaves.” They reached the end of the road and Sukant had to leave. Both of them were quiet and cheerless. The banana trees looked like ghosts in the darkness. Gungun lightened the atmosphere, “Now you go Sukant. We will meet tomorrow evening… at the same place.” “OK madam… whatever you order.” Sukant replied instantly. Both of them started laughing cheerfully. Their loud noise disturbed the birds and they fluttered their wings restlessly. Gungun pointed towards them in the trees and said, “They are the real Comrades.”

***

Nadira and Diana were having a good time together. Nadira used to visit her in the afternoon and they would entertain themselves with Blossom, Porgi and Bess. There was a news item in an English newspaper of Calcutta about an achievement of Commissioner sahib. It was three o‟clock in the afternoon and Nadira came to show the news to Diana. Bonomali was sitting under the shadow of a Maulsiri tree in the lawn and singing a song, playing the iktara. Birds hopped around on a bunch of leaves strewn on the lawn. The wind was blowing from the west. “This newspaper has paid tribute to my husband.” Nadira gave the newspaper to Diana. “Yes, I‟ve read it… Khan sahib is an able person. Diana took the newspaper and kept it on the table. She began playing with Porgi‟s hair. “He is capable but very narrow-minded about women.” “That is because your religion, Islam is orthodox.” “Have you read about Islam, Diana?” Nadira‟s asked forcefully.

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“No… I have heard about it. I wish to read it. But I don‟t know Urdu or Farsi and I don‟t read translated versions because they lose the original meaning.” “Yes you are right,” but Diana, my dear… I have read a lot on Islam. I know that people in your country believe that in Islam, the woman is lesser than the man. But this is not true…I feel that people in the west do not understand the traditions of Islam as explained in the Koran.” Nadira was all set to debate the issue. “Then what is the truth?” Diana joined in, out of interest and curiosity. She changed her posture and sat comfortably. Porgi jumped from her lap and stretched himself out on the carpet. “The truth is that Islam is the only system where women and men are seen equally. Only Islam has traditions that secure the rights of women and give her equal status. Islam has given women a unique position which has no parallel in any other society or religion.” “Have you read about other religions too?” Diana asked doubtfully. “Nadira understood what Diana was trying to say, “Yes, of course. Take Christianity, for example. Jesus Christ said, “Have pity on women and lepers…” that implies that rights of women are given by showing pity. That is a very neglectful attitude.” Diana agreed. She also had a difference of opinion with the social structure of the west. Nadira‟s knowledge was a reflection of her deep study. “Diana... please read about Islam madam… please do not believe in stories. The Quran says that women are also rewarded if they do good deeds, just like men. There is no difference between men and women in their freedom of expression. Both of them have equal rights on wealth too.” “Oh I see, this is the first I‟ve heard of it, otherwise a man divorces his wife just by saying Talaq, Talaq, Talaq.” “That is a topic of deeper discussion. I just want to say that men have restricted our freedom because of their own prejudice. All the doors of the schools and madrasas are closed for us and Mohammad sahib has said that it is a duty of both men and women to go in search of knowledge. Now you tell me, do men accept this?” “A very serious discussion is going on between Nadira Baji and my Begum sahiba.” Neither of them realised when Tom had entered the room. Nadira chuckled, “Arre you have become my brother.” Tom kept his hat on the table and asked, “How?” “Of course, just now you called me Baji. Do you know the meaning of this word? Baji means sister.” “Oh my God… that‟s not good… I take my words back.” “You can‟t take your words back… now you must call me Baji only.” Nadira said naughtily. “Look‟s like I‟m stuck.” Tom laughed loudly and repeated, “Nadira baji.” Tea was served, as usual, upon Tom‟s arrival. The strong aroma of the tea spread in the air the moment the lid of the kettle was opened. “Hmmm, tea from Darjeeling!!!” Nadira exclaimed. “Yes, I‟ve brought a large box of tea from Darjeeling… it is excellent.” Tom related something about the tea gardens as he took a sip and looked at Nadira and Diana one by one. He had an intoxicated look in his eyes. Prayer bells rang in the distance… at the same time the muezzin‟s call could be heard. It was a time for Namaz “Shall I leave Bhaijaan?” Nadira asked teasingly as she got up.

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“OK, Nadira begum.” Tom was also in a good mood. “How can that be, first baji now begum?” “It happens in your culture, doesn‟t it?” “Yes it does, will you explain this kind of relationship too, Nadira? I don‟t trust such relashionships.” Diana said. Diana came till the gate to leave Nadira. She looked longingly for Chandidas on the lonely road ahead. It was time for him to come. Tom would get ready and go to the club anytime now and she would spend her time waiting for Chandidas in this forlorn evening. She couldn‟t understand what happened to her in the evenings. She would become despondent. As dusk would set in and day was turning into night, when people were enjoying their evenings with their partners in their romantic lamp lit rooms… she was surrounded by gloom, it happened every day in the evening. She could not understand why it happened? Chandidas stood his bicycle on its stand and spoke dramatically to Diana who was strolling near the gate, “Oh my Champa vine… this bird has come to roost as soon as the evening has set in.” Diana‟s sadness vanished instantly. She shook hands with Chandidas and started climbing the stairs to go to the drawing room, “Why were you standing at the gate? To bid farewell to Tom?” “No, to welcome you. I was waiting for you. Tom was insisting that I go to the club with him.” “You should have gone. I would have turned around at the closed gate and gone to the Hooghly river to beat my head in disappointment.” “It seems like you‟re reading a lot of plays these days. They had better watch out for you.” Diana teased him as they went to the music room. She took the tanpura in her hand and said, “I will sing a ghazal by Ghalib. I‟ve composed the tune myself.” Chandidas waited for such moments to come. He understood the quality of his disciple. He set up the harmonium but did not play. He was looking at his beloved keenly. He loved her from the bottom of his heart and wanted to share his whole life with her but not his sorrows. He felt helpless that in this fusion of love and sorrow he could not do anything for his Radhe. Sometimes he felt like he was stranded on an island in the ocean. There was an endless expanse of water all around and Diana was waiting for him, her delicate palms adorned with menhdi, dreams in her eyes, hundreds of light years away from that island. He could feel her; think about her… he could smell her fragrance mixing with his person. He could hear her in the depths of his restlessness, in the ebb and flow of the seasons... but he could not reach her. Why? Why? Was she not his companion? “Why are you lost in thought? Did you not like the ghazal? OK, I‟ll practice more and work harder.” Diana said and kept the tanpura aside. “No Radhe, your singing was without parallel, but what can I do for my heart which is afraid, thinking that I might lose you. “Arre, what a strange thing to say.” She put her arms around his neck and said. “I know there is revolution everywhere… the freedom fighters will throw the British out soon but your Radhe is beyond time and borders. She belongs only to you.” Chandidas began kissing Diana passionately. Tears from his swollen eyes rolled down onto Diana‟s cheeks. He murmured, “I will not be able to live without you… I yearn for you the

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 51 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM moment I leave you… I wait only for you even as my imagination plays tricks on me… and then I find my wishes changing into sorrow.” “No Kisna, don‟t muddle your mind. Don‟t let your love become helpless. When God has made us meet each other, there must be a reason behind it. Nothing can happen against His wish.” They came to the drawing room. Bonomali brought tea and snacks. They sat down comfortably and began discussing other things like the music academy, Munmun‟s friend Satyajit, Gungun‟s dreams about her country and finally Nadira‟s views on Islam and women and their heated debate on the issue… “Nadira is a very knowledgeable person… and writes poetry as well. Sometime I will call her to meet you.” It was time for Tom to return. Chandidas pulled his bag up on his shoulder and got ready to leave. Diana came till the gate… she continued gazing at him on his bicycle going along the empty road. Porgi and Bess were playing around her legs… The garden was full of the fragrance of Night Queen flowers. She picked up both the pups and came to the drawing room. Chandidas seemed very upset today. It was a fact that the country was going through a very delicate time. Occasionally, she would imagine the effects of an earthquake even when nothing had happened. There were capsized boats and uprooted trees. Gurudwaras, temples, mosques, houses and mansions seemed upside down, with their foundations above and minarets below. She could see thrones swinging back and forth. Hand grenades were blasting everywhere, guns were shooting bullets, cannon spewing great balls of fire. A procession was going by and Mother Mary was walking carrying a cross against her chest because she knew that if she gives birth to a child he will need a cross. And suddenly everything transformed into a dark cloud. Diana got upset and stifled her cry. „Oh! Chandi what is going to happen to my heart… I hope you are not going to leave me.‟

***

The winds were searing and the horizon quivered in the heat. Melons and cucumbers were plentiful in the markets. In the afternoons, the whole city was like a hot pan on fire. Wealthy people spent their summer holidays at hill stations, leaving their mansions empty. Diana too went to Kashmir with Tom unwillingly, for a few days. Suddenly a thick layer of clouds spread across the sky. At first there were mild showers which slowly increased and then heavy rains drenched the city. There was water all over. When Diana returned from Kashmir, Chandidas kissed and embraced her in his arms, her silky hair blowing across his face in the cool breeze. The month of Kwar arrived after the rainy season. Preparations for Durga Puja began in the city. This time Chandidas presented Diana with a gold ring embedded with a pearl stud, He had purchased it with his own earnings. Presenting a ring to a lady was not a trivial affair in British custom, it was considered to be a moral pledge… to spend life together. They had already passed the test of this commitment long ago. It was the new moon day in the month of Kartik. Shimmering lights garlanded the darkness like a bride. Then followed the purvai winds from the east of the magh and poose months. In this cold weather, the heart and body hugged each other in search of warmth. There was fog and dewdrops glistened on the roads and gardens. Preparations for Christmas began with great pomp

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 52 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM and show. The city of Calcutta was aglow. Diana wanted to surprise Chandidas on Christmas Day. Gungun and Sukant were busy in their party activities. All party members were trying to do something or the other in order to save Netaji from arrest and to execute the plan for his leaving the country. A leader from Bombay, Bhagat Ram Talwar reached Calcutta, disguised as a muslim fakir on the instructions of Dr. Gangadhar Adhikari. Netaji too had to disguise himself. Sukant, Gungun and two Comrades were given the task of arranging for the disguise. When they reached the market, they saw Diana coming out of her car with Paro. She had come to shop for Christmas. The market was full of pomp and show. There were kandeels, electric lights, gifts and toys. Gungun did not want to meet Diana and she turned into a lane with her colleagues as soon as Diana entered a nearby showroom. Diana purchased a classy cloth piece for a coat and pant, expensive shoes and an emerald ring. She had read somewhere that emerald was lucky for artists. It made them successful. She wanted Chandidas to be at the top of his profession so that he could become accomplished. As instructed by Bhagat Ram Talwar, Gungun and her colleagues purchased two sets of pyjamas and a Faiz type cap, a suitcase, an attaché case and bedding. They also purchased a pair of kabuli slippers from a Chinese shop. They left the market promptly after that. Gungun wanted to eat phuchkas, but she was not comfortable eating in front of the Comrades. They reached Woodburn Park with their purchases. Ila di and Dwijan da checked all the items and praised their work. They said, “Aree Gungun, you are perfect at shopping.” Gungun was excited, “Ila di please give me some more work to do.” Ila di looked at Bhagat Ram Talwar. He was sitting stiffly on the chair like a soldier. He said, “I have brought a copy of Koran Sharif from Bombay. The visiting cards are also printed.” He showed the visiting cards. Instead of Netaji‟s details, it said Mohammad Ziauddin, Travelling Inspector, The Empire Life Insurance Company Ltd. Everybody studied the cards one by one and looked at each other thinking that time had come for them to take their work to its goal. The meeting went on for two hours. All possible angles were discussed. Every Comrade was assigned specific duties. It was decided that they meet again after Christmas. When their meeting was over, they left discreetly, one at a time after short intervals, to avoid drawing the attention of British spies. Sukant and Gungun left together. Christmas seemed to be stretching itself, getting ready to rise, in the cheerful evening atmosphere. Every street and lane was full of lights. Children were all set to welcome Santa Claus and the shops were decorated with Christmas cards. Gungun felt like eating phuchkas when she saw the corner shop. She took Sukant there telling him that she wanted to eat phuchkas.” “No, no, the tamarind in its water will hurt our throats in this cold weather.” “I see, since when you have become a singer?” “The moment I met you.” Gungun was bowled over by Sukant‟s ready reply. A teenager was eating phuchkas along with his mother. He was finding it difficult to eat them. He would keep a puchka in his mouth, chew it and then swallow with great difficulty, making a hissing sound from his mouth. His eyes and nose were watering because the shopkeeper was serving him the phuchkas with too much chilly sauce. When he saw Gungun and Sukant enjoying their phuchkas he asked, “Don‟t you find them hot? They are very spicy.”

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Sukant was irritated, “We eat spicy food regularly. You must also learn to eat it, it is good for the stomach and improves the digestive system.” Gungun also laughed with him. Their anxiety of the last few hours became lighter. This was a specialty of the Comrades. They lived every day experiencing sorrow and happiness, laughter and sadness. They did not keep anything for the future. Their future was always hostage to the gun. One bullet... and everything would be over in a moment.

***

Many visitors had come to Diana‟s bungalow to greet them for Christmas. The house was decorated like a bride with kandeels, colourful lights, frills made of crepe paper and a huge Christmas tree. Tom and Diana were welcoming and greeting every guest personally. The exchange of gifts went on till late night. Diana was very tired after entertaining the guests and returning from the church. She wanted to rest alone… but she couldn‟t. She sighed in relief when some officers from Tom‟s office came to meet him. Her presence was not required there. Even otherwise, she was desperate to meet Chandidas. He should have come to greet her by now. But he had not come yet. She grew restless after some time and was waiting impatiently to hear the gate open. She was familiar with the sound of Chandidas‟s bicycle. There was laughter in the drawing room. She wondered why she remembered London whenever she was upset. She seemed to have inherited her moods of silence. Her father used to grow somber during Christmas even though it was the festive season. If she had the right husband… if there was Chandi in Tom‟s place, she would have been the happiest person because this was the only thing missing in her life. All of a sudden, she saw Chandi standing in front of her. He had a big bouquet of red roses with a greeting card tucked in it. “Merry Christmas Diana”, he held out his hand. Diana excitedly put her arms around his neck and whispered, “Merry Christmas Chandi… where were you until now? I‟ve been waiting for you for so long?” “My sweetheart, I beg your pardon a thousand times. I feel like dying when you are sad.” Diana kept her palm on his lips, “Don‟t talk about dying… not today at any cost. Today Jesus was born. Light shone from everywhere with the birth of this prophet.” Chandidas could see that light in Diana‟s eyes even today. Her heart was full of God‟s love. He lived each day for Diana but why did he feel that he was not able to return even a single drop of love to her. He wanted to do a lot for Diana but somehow he always felt that she was far ahead of him in their relationship. Diana offered him some Christmas cake and then presented him with the gifts that she had purchased for him from the market. “Shall I open it? Such a big box!!! What is there inside?” “No, open it at home.” And she gave another box full of cake and sweets for his family. “How will I carry all this home, I don‟t have my bicycle today?” “Don‟t worry, the car will drop you to your house.” Diana called Bonomali and told him to keep the gifts in the car. There were no sounds of laughter coming from the drawing room now. Tom‟s colleagues had already left. Tom came to the hall and shook hands with Chandidas, “Merry Christmas Mr. Sengupta. How are you? I‟ve heard that you have opened a music academy.” “Yes, you must come there some time, I will introduce you to my students.”

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“Why not… I too want to come to your academy but I am busy with my tours. Would you like a drink?” Tom looked at Chandidas inquiringly. “No I don‟t drink.” Chandidas replied flatly. He had no feelings for Tom. Tom was just a Britisher, an officer of the East India Company… who hated India and Indians. Chandidas felt sorry for such people… Poor Tom, God alone knows how he had wandered here, all the way from London, and now sat coiled like a snake in Diana‟s life. Nadira and her husband, Khan sahib arrived with a gift, “There seems to be a party going on here. We have come at the right time.” “Yes Nadira... have a seat. We were waiting for you. Meet my music teacher Chandidas Sengupta.” Diana held her by the hand as they sat on the sofa. “You look familiar.” Nadira said as she observed Chandidas. He seemed even more handsome than what Diana had described. She was impressed and felt like lowering her eyes. “My wife has a keen eye, Mr. Sengupta. She has met you for the first time and is saying that you are no stranger to her.” Mr. Khan said playfully. “This is the difference between you and us. You men have faith in a person and that person betrays you in the end and we women keep a watch on our husbands at each step. It is another thing that it is our fate that we allow ourselves to be betrayed knowingly.” “Please pardon my begum sahiba… We will discuss women‟s issues some other day, Today is a day of celebration… Mr. Tom… There‟s a white Christmas in London this time, isn‟t it?” Khan sahib tried to impress Tom with his knowledge of this fact but Tom replied casually. “Yes there is heavy snowfall over there.” Tom knew that the Police Commissioner had a habit of fawning over the British. It was better not to give him too much attention. Tom enjoyed picking on the status consciousness of Chandidas. He felt like laughing at his preference for not drinking alcohol and wanted to say “you don‟t drink alcohol, being a male? That‟s very orthodox. Why don‟t you tie a knot on your hair like Brahmins?” But then Nadira and Khan came there and he could not draw Chandidas into this topic of conversation. Tom knew that Diana had a liking for Chandidas and he was afraid of giving him any importance. It might result in a divorce from Diana and then he would be nowhere. That was why he wanted to distract her from music and focus her mind on business… he wanted Diana to expand her business in Bombay. They had several arguments about this. Diana suggested that they have dinner. Nadira and Khan sahib agreed but Chandidas excused himself saying that he had to attend to some business. “I will join you for dinner some other day. You have already stuffed my stomach with so many snacks, I am full.” Diana came to leave him to the car. There was no need to instruct the driver. He knew Chandidas very well. When she came back after bidding farewell to Chandidas, she felt like she had been an iceberg inside, which had been flowing along the ocean currents, at times breaking off little pieces as she met different people, but now it was difficult to flow further. Now it was stuck like a rock in a place where even the rays of the sun could not reach. Only a canvas insulated her from the chill and gave her energy. And Chandidas face was painted on that canvas.

***

The New Year had arrived. The nascent sun of the year 1941 rose as if it had brought a new awakening. Bengal had received a new consciousness, a renaissance which had its beginnings in

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 55 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM the nineteenth century. People like Raja Ram Mohan Roy, Vidyasagar, Keshav Chandra Sen and Vivekananda had made a deep impact on religion, culture, literature and the social order. Institutions like Brahma Samaj tried to modernize society by destroying blind faith, superstition and old fashioned traditions. This gave birth to feelings of Nationalism in society. People began understanding the value of freedom and put in all their efforts to attain freedom. Importance was also given to the education of women. The result was that the nation as a whole started becoming more educated. Many revolutionaries now became irritants for the British because this sentiment was flowing and spreading far and wide. In Bengal, Netaji from Clacutta was one of them. The time had come for him to leave the country and lead his nationalist efforts from abroad. He would leave at midnight on the 17th of January. The plan would be difficult to execute because the police were very alert and ready to pounce on him like hunting dogs as soon as he surfaced. Everything had been explained to the Comrades present in the meeting held a week ago. The outline of the plan was sent by Comrade Gangadhar Adhikari of Bombay through Bhagat Ram Talwar. When Gungun heard this plan she felt a thrill in her body. Dvijan da was reading it out and she was listening breathlessly, holding Sukant‟s hand. Netaji had announced his maun vrat and akantvas, a vow of silence and seclusion before leaving the country. This akantvas would act as a facade for the British. Netaji had said that he would neither meet nor talk to anyone during his akantvas. Nobody would be allowed to disturb him and even his food would be given to him through a partition made behind his room. The food would be strictly vegetarian with fresh and dried fruits. If someone had anything to ask it would be written on a piece of paper. This had been planned to misguide the police. Netaji had sent many postdated letters to the Comrades in advance so that they could be mailed to them later. He had also given them written directions in chits of paper. Ila di and Dvijan da would perform this role in his absence. Ila di had a special attachment for Gungun and she had taken permission from Netaji to keep her here. Gungun and Sukant touched Netaji‟s feet and took his blessings to give their best for the country. Netaji blessed them and said, “We need young people like you, you give me blood, I will give you freedom.” They stood at attention and saluted Netaji. Ila di was organising Netaji‟s attaché case. Gungun began helping her. Clothes, cap, Koran Sharif and visiting cards were kept inside the case. They were very alert so as to not miss anything. There were two cars kept ready in front of the bungalow in the parking area, one a big Studbaker President model and the other, a smaller German Wonderer. It was decided that they would assemble here on the eve of the sixteenth. Gungun was in a chirpy mood since morning. Though everyone at home knew by now that she worked for the Azad Hind Fauj, Maa still did not believe it. She had never thought that her little daughter whose mouth still smells of baby milk, could be involved in revolutionary things. She finished cooking rice in the kitchen and began frying brinjals. Gungun came the kitchen, her wet hair exuding the fragrance of sandalwood which she had used to bathe herself with, “Hoon!!!, Brinjal bhaja… my favourite… Maa, I am feeling very hungry.” “There are besan laddoos kept in the box. Eat them while I get the food ready. Gungun… tell me, have you really become a freedom fighter?” “O Maa… why are you worried whether I have become a freedom fighter or not. Even if I have, so what? What all have women not done for our country. They have worked in every field. Gone are the times when ladies used to go for an outing, sitting in a carriage with a curtain and

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 56 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM the carriage driver used to shout, “Babu… be on one side… there are ladies travelling inside,” Gungun acted out the scene. Maa began laughing at Gungun‟s antics. Gungun put her arms around her neck and embraced her… “Maa, when the women of Tagore‟s family went in their palki to take a bath in the Ganges river, kahar used to dip the whole palki in the water.” “Yes the women were in pardah so how could they take a bath in the open?” “Yes, but now we are modern women.” “OK… come have your food now… talking too big.” Maa called out to Munmun to serve food to everyone. Gungun ate her food and began getting ready. She had to meet a couple of Comrades on the way to Woodburn Park and Sukant was going to meet her there. “You are going so early, Gungun?” Munmun had laid down on her bed. She was feeling sleepy and suggested that Gungun too have a nap, “Come and sleep for sometime, then go out.” “Munmun, rest is forbidden for us Comrades. Today is the last meeting at Woodburn Park… and yes… I may not come back tonight. I will come early in the morning. Nobody will come to know.” “Gungun, I am getting afraid of your dangerous games. I am worried not only for Baba, for you too.” Gungun came to Munmun‟s bed and embraced her, “I wish Maa Kaali gives a sister like you to everyone. I am so lucky. I must have done some good deeds in my last birth, that‟s why I got you… Dada, Maa, Baba and Sukant…” Still hugging Munmum, Gungun whispered like a gentle breeze kissing the green turf…” Munmun, our country will be free… I will become Sukant‟s bride. How beautiful that moment will be…? I have kept this wish safely at the bottom of all my dreams, because it will be my last one.” The wall clock chimed at three o‟clock in the afternoon. Gungun went out of the door promptly, “I am leaving, take care, Munmun.” By then, Munmun was fast asleep.

***

Gungun reached Woodburn Park after dark. All the members of the party had assembled there. Netaji had his last meal that day along with Ila di, Dvijan da, Gungun, Sukant and the other Comrades. All of them took their instructions from Netaji and took up positions outside, to guard the place. Gungun could feel the thrill in the air. Netaji was disguised as Mohammad Jiyauddin. Dvijan da was on the roof to keep an eye on the road, he had to give a signal by coughing when the road was clear. Netaji embraced Sukant and kissed his forehead. He said goodbye to Ila di and Gungun before leaving and instructed them to keep the lights on for one hour. He came out at about 1:30 a.m. in the morning, slowly opened the car‟s door and sat inside. A few crows fluttered their wings restlessly in the neem and peepal trees. Then there was silence. Even though there was a network of British spies near his house, the planning had been so meticulous that nobody knew anything and Netaji went away safely. All of them stayed alert and unmoved in their places for two hours. Then they took a sigh of relief. Gungun asked for Ila di‟s permission to go home.

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“Yes you go home now. It is going to be four o‟clock. Everyone in your house will be worried. Be careful while going… Sukant will go along with you?” “Yes Ila di… How can I reach home without him in this lonesome night?” Ila di kept her hand on Gungun‟s head and kissed her forehead. When both of them stepped down the staircase, a passing policeman called out, “Who is there?” They made a mistake. They should have stopped and replied… instead they panicked and started running. The policeman suspected that they were Netaji‟s Comrades. He ran behind them… “Stay there, otherwise I will shoot you.” They did not stop and he fired his gun. The bullet hit Sukant in his back. In one motion, he turned around, took out his knife and threw it at the policeman. He did not miss. The policeman died on the spot. By then, another policeman arrived and pounced on them. This time Gungun plunged her knife into the heart of the other policeman, but he shot her before dying. It was all over in a few seconds. The crows fluttered their wings again but this time not to bid farewell to the freedom fighters who had left in disguise but to the martyrs, Sukant and Gungun, who died for their country. Sukant had wanted to die for his country and he had wanted Gungun to be with him at the time of his death. God had fulfilled his wish. His beloved was fast asleep… dead, just next to him. The blood trickling out of Sukant‟s body was dripping on Gungun‟s forehead, “There, my beloved, I have coloured the parting of your hair with my blood. I am one with you.” Ila di and the other Comrades had heard the sounds of the bullets but they could not help them because they were afraid that the secret would be out. After one and a half hours, when the police were less alert… Ila di and the Comrades came with a car near Gungun and Sukant. They kept the dead bodies in the car and turned the car towards Gungun‟s house. It was by coincidence that Chandidas was there with Nandlal and Satyajit. When they saw Gungun‟s dead body they ran towards the car... “What happened, what happened to Gungun?” “Gungun has sacrificed herself for her country.” Ila di said and cried. Everyone in the house was speechless. Ila di stayed back and the other two Comrades went to Sukant‟s house. Chandidas called Diana on the phone. Her heart was pounding when she arrived there with Bonomali. The scene was heart-wrenching. Gungun‟s mother was wailing near the dead body. Munmun was like a stone and she was staring into space with emptiness in her eyes. Chandidas was consoling his father who, in his old age, was living in the hope that Gungun‟s palki would go from his house… and Gungun would be sitting inside bedecked as a bride... now the palki would go but in the form of an arthi, a coffin. Diana came up to him. She held his hands and consoled him, “Baba… your daughter was very brave…she died a martyr‟s death. People yearn for such a heroic death.” Baba did not say anything. He was looking feebly at Gungun‟s body which was being decorated for her last rites. Munmun cried bitterly when Diana embraced her. It was very difficult for Diana to stop herself from crying. Tears poured down her cheeks. How beautiful Gungun looked, lying on the arthi. There was a tilak on her forehead... half opened lips as if they wanted to say something... there was a glow of pride on her face. The glory of being martyred for her country…The grandeur of having killed the enemy and then giving up her life. “See Baba, I have fulfilled the promise I made to Netaji, I have given my blood, now he will give us freedom.” Perhaps Baba had heard his daughter‟s voice. That was why he had pride on his face instead of sorrow. Gungun‟s body was decorated with flowers from head to toe. Everyone who came, paid his homage by keeping a fistful of flowers on her. She smelt nice with the fragrance of the

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 58 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM flowers… peaceful… blissful in the ultimate reality… life is only this short… only for four days… so much fuss over this? Diana came and stood near Chandidas as a young boy came running and gave him a piece of paper. On it was written, “The last passage should be through my house. Sukant and Gungun have become martyrs together… they would have wanted their last rites to be held together… Ghoshal.” Chandidas gave the letter to Baba. Baba was ready. Dave Franklin also gave his shoulder to the arthi… he was a Britisher but her friend as well. Both the pyres were prepared nearby. When the flames from the pyres leapt up they united with each other. The winds pulled them together. Their last wish was fulfilled by Mother Nature. Some times such things happen spontaneously, like a miracle. Paro had brought cooked food for everyone. Diana was pleased with her presence of mind. As she served the food, Diana made sure that everybody ate. She herself ate the same food with them and became a part of their family. Even though she could not come to their home as a bride… she still belonged to Chandi... there was no bond stronger than that between hearts. When she was about to go she came to Baba. She touched his feet, “Baba, I am leaving now. I will come again tomorrow. Please rest, otherwise you will become sick.” Baba bid her farewell with tearful eyes, “Yes, he will sleep, why shouldn‟t he sleep? His daughter had become a martyr for her country. His brave daughter… she killed a soldier of the enemy and became a martyr.” Diana went to Munmun‟s mother, “Maa, your Gungun is immortal.” “You don‟t know daughter…how gifted she was? She used to tell me that women are the symbol of power, the power given by… Maa Kaali… Maa Durga.” And she sobbed. “Now, from where will I bring my Gungun?” “You are a symbol of power, then why do you cry? Today is a day of pride.” All of a sudden, something happened to Maa. She wiped her tears, tightened the pallo of her saree around her waist, brought her palm on her forehead and said loudly, “Jai Hind.” Chandidas hurried to take care of his mother. Diana trembled; she came to her car and sat inside. Munmun came running, “One minute, please wait, Dada is coming.” Chandidas came to the car, walking quickly, “Shall I come with you?” “Chandi don‟t be emotional… take care of Maa and Baba. I wish I could stay.” She motioned to the driver to start the car. This was the end of a tragedy… we are all merely characters of a play… and life is a stage. The play goes on as the scenes change. New characters enter, play their roles and leave. Diana rested her head on the seat of the car and was soon lost in the memories of Gungun and Sukant.

***

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4 Revolution against the British was sprouting fast. The Angrezon Bharat Chodo Abhiyan had found universal appeal in 1942. The students had taken part in this revolution with great enthusiasm. The British police, however, did not differentiate between students and leaders. They used bullets indiscriminately. On the other side, Bengal was facing a severe drought. The farms and fields were dry without any grain. Farmers sat around gazing at the horizon with bleak eyes… their kitchen stoves were cold with no fire to cook food for themselves… it was difficult to face hunger in these times. Slowly, people began falling victim to the fierce drought and started dying. The army of Yamraj was devouring helpless people, in the form of British bullets and unforgiving hunger. Diana and Nadira were discussing this problem as Chandidas arrived. One and a half years had passed since Gungun‟s death but the black shadow of sorrow had not left her family. Everyone was still wailing in their hearts. They would talk only on important matters, else there would be silence in the sadness that had spread in their house like an Amarbail. Amarbail, the creeper which has no roots but spreads all over its host, sucking it hollow. Chandidas too composed only sad songs and remained quiet most of the time. “Come Chandi… how are you?” Diana shook hands with him. “Hello Nadiraji… You seem to be discussing something serious.” Chandidas said as he took a seat on the sofa. “Yes, we‟re discussing the drought in Bengal.” Nadira replied. “It is a day of Kayamat in Bengal. Lakhs of people are dead because of this drought and hunger and the British government is quietly watching the tandav dance of death.” Chandidas‟s voice was full of pain. Nadira‟s mind was full of thoughts. “I am sorry Diana but I am not afraid to say that the British government wants that the situation in India should deteriorate, the people of India should become helpless and die of hunger so that they do not have strength to fight against them. But it does not know that the Shankhnad of freedom has already begun. Now the British will have to leave India.” “Nadira, perhaps you don‟t know that I have already accepted Indianness. I belong to India now and I wish that my India should be a free country.” Diana said proudly. Chandidas was fascinated to hear this from his beloved. He looked at her with love and admiration. Nadira was surpised, “Oh! Ya Allah! What are you saying? Is it true? Does Mr. Blair agree with your decision?” “No he is a true Britisher. He enjoys ruling this country. He will not get this opportunity in England.” Diana said bitterly. “Ok, leave this for now… we have to think about the people who are dying because of hunger and how we can help them? I have come from Ghoshal babu‟s house.” “Ghoshal babu, He is Sukant‟s father, isn‟t he?” “Yes… he is. He has become very active after Sukant‟s death. Many students from Sukant‟s college had gathered in his house. There were some people from other parties too. Ghoshal babu is considered to be the leader of all the students‟ organizations and other parties. He has directed everyone to collect as many donations as they can.” “Tell me how much to give? I will also give my share.” Diana expressed her willingness.

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“Yes I will also give.” Nadira joined in. “Oh no, you can personally give as much as you wish. Now we have to think of how much more we can collect. I want to conduct a musical programme or even a play and if possible, an exhibition of paintings. If we sell these paintings in the name of collecting a relief fund, the rich community of Calcutta will pay well for them. I need your help.” “But how will you paint so many paintings in such a short time?” “I have already painted a series of paintings as a collection called Prem Dewane. It has paintings of Heer Ranjha, Soni Mahiwal, Sassi Punnu, Romeo Juliet and Laila Majnu… I just have to give a few finishing touches.” “Oh really? You Bengali people are very romantic.” Nadira said teasingly. Chandidas replied, “God has given beauty to Kashmiris and love to Bengalis, so that there may be a balance.” It was obvious that Nadira was a Kashmiri, she laughed heartily. “What can I do for your relief fund? I don‟t know how to write or sing a song, I don‟t even know how to paint.” “You stay with us and be our inspiration. That is enough for us.” When the sun set behind the kachnar trees and began weaving its yellow net like a fine fabric spreading across the lawn… the meeting at Diana‟s house came to a close. It was decided that they would meet after three or four days to decide about the play and its characters. Diana would sing classical music with Munmun. There were ten or fifteen boys and girls, young college students from Nandlal‟s group, Satyajiy and Chandidas. Previously, Chandidas had staged a play based on Bengali literature but now waves of Parsee theater from Bombay had arrived in Calcutta. Chandidas had seen many plays staged by Parsee theater companies. A scene from Rustam Sohrab was still fresh in his mind... Girls were dancing in the court of the Shahenshah, musicians were playing their instruments, as the vazeer served him wine. Each artist expressed his or her feelings uniquely… Chandidas could not forget those beautiful moments… especially when in sudden unison, all the dancers stopped dancing and stood at their places, perfectly still as statues. Chandidas chose Rustam Sohrab to stage. Ghoshal babu also gave his consent. Diana, Nandlal and Chandidas had the responsibility of selecting artistes for different roles. When Dave Franklin heard that a play was going to be staged and the tickets would be sold for the drought relief fund, he immediately rushed to Chandidas to get a role in the play. He had started calling Chandidas Dada, like Gungun and after her death, this word had attached itself to him with special meaning. “Dada please give me a role in the play.” He requested Chandidas. “Yes why not?”… We have given roles to many youths of your college. Please audtion with a few expressive dialogues. If Mrs. Diana Blair and Nandlal find you suitable, you will definitely get a role.” Dave replied excitedly, “Just give me half an hour. I‟ll practice the dialogues.” He began practising under a neem tree near the Chitrakala Academy gate. The dialogues were from a play written by Shakespeare. He delivered them very confidently in front of Diana and Nandlal. Both of them were impressed by the liveliness and flow of his expressions. They selected him for the play. The rehearsals started with great fanfare. Every day, they got together in the academy room or in the small ground outside of which there was a dry lawn surrounded by a hedge of mehendi leaves. They were all very excited and practised their dialogues at home.

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Depending on their talents, they gave tunes to the songs, played instruments or sang beautifully. Diana composed the music on her harmonium and practised classical songs on the tanpura. They were all too busy to have any spare time. Munmun and Satyajit directed the actors and edited the scenes. Satyajit began calling Munmun Devika Rani after seeing her dedication and knowledge. Devika Rani was the granddaughter of the brother of Rabindra Nath Tagore and a very good film actress. Satyjit had seen a film in which there was a scene of Devika Rani kissing Himanshu Rai. He was so enthralled by her acting that whenever he saw Munmun he remembered Devika Rani. Once he mentioned this to Munmun and she said, “Perhaps you want me to become an actress like Devika Rani,” and asked him, “But will you become Himanshu Rai for me?” “What?” He blurted nervously. Satyajit was a patient, serious and shy kind of a person with the passion for social work ingrained in him. He had decided not to get married and follow the path shown by Swami Vivekananda but he was not aware that he was getting closer to Munmun. She seemed to get more attractive every day. Perhaps Himanshu Rai also felt the same way for Devika Rani. Himanshu Rai had studied at Shantiniketan under the guidance of Rabindra Nath Tagore and had been very interested in the arts and stage plays. Perhaps they could have found a life partner in each other. Satyajit became restless after listening to Munmun‟s awkward question. He thought of replying but decided against it. Nadira rang her bicycle bell, trring… trring… “It is time for lunch. All of you come along.” She stood there with big tiffin boxes full of biryani and raita. The famished artistes devoured their food ravenously. Diana was amused but she saw a glow of satisfaction on Nadira‟s face. “You were asking Nadira, about the role you were going to get in this play... ” “Yes, I‟ve understood. I am ready to act like a cook, my lady.” Nadira saluted in a darbari style. Diana was also in a humourous mood. She replied with a show of authority, “Yes. I am pleased with you.” The rehearsals took place three times a day. Chandidas used to sleep for two hours after coming back and then from midnight onwards he was busy painting, all the while drinking tea from a thermos flask. God knows how the art magically entered his brushes, colours and every stroke of his brush. The most romantic of all the paintings of his Prem Deewane collection was the depiction of Soni and Mahiwal. On the canvas was a river in high tide, engulfed in the darkness of the night. Mahiwal was playing his tumidi impatiently. There was a silhouette of Soni coming towards him, gliding on the waves of the river with the help of a pitcher. Her face was looking over her shoulder to see if anyone from her village was following her. Chandidas himself was enamoured by this painting. He had put all his best efforts in this painting. He had also painted a scene in another painting at Diana‟s behest. She had described the scene lucidly by bringing to life the love between Radha and Krishn. Krishn is looking satisfied and happily at Radha. Radha is also cheerful. She has a betel leaf paan in her hand. In another scene she is offering the paan to Krishn. The loose threads of her odni and lehenga are wafting in the breeze. The remarkable aspect of Chandidas‟s art was that when he was sketching this scene the lines seemed to have a life of their own as they playfully found expression on the canvas…exactly like the emotions of Radha. Her long open hair was visible through the transparent odni and it was obvious that Chandidas had painted this scene with great intensity. Munmun was awake with Chandidas. She knew that Dada was engrossed in his work. When he is busy painting he will never realize when to stop and rest until she reminds him that it is

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 62 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM time to sleep. The night was almost over and it was four o‟clock in the morning. The stars were setting… how calm the atmosphere was? Especially for Munmun who used to always wait for Gungun to return home at this time. She never took Gungun‟s work so seriously though she was always very busy fulfilling the most important mission of her life and was in a hurry to do something or the other. “There is no time left. I have to do so many things… see how swiftly our secret messages reach our Comrades… and you take so much time to boil tea.” Gungun‟s words used to echo in her ears.” Now she would not waste her time… “Dada get up… that‟s enough. Stop your painting now. You will become ill if you work so much. Go and sleep now.” Chandidas dabbed her cheek with his brush while getting up, “Come my grandmother, you will not allow me to live peacefully.” Munmun held his arm and rubbed her cheek on it. “Arre what did you do? Now how will the colour go from my kurta.” “I don‟t care.” She laughed and ran away to her room. She stood near the window, opening it wider and started waiting… but for whom? Those who have gone to their heavenly abode will never return to this world.

***

The IPTA group had decided to stage a play separately. Chandidas had met this group through Ghoshal babu but gradually, it so happened, that Chandidas, Diana, Nandlal and Satyjit became a part if IPTA and got roles in its play ―Akhiri Shama‖. Now there were two plays, Rustam Sohrab and Akhiri Shama that were staged with fifteen shows for each play. People thronged to see these shows. They purchased tickets with great generosity in the name of the relief fund. Chandidas‟s paintings at the exhibition sold at a very high price. The classical songs sung by Diana were highly appreciated by the music loving Bengalis. Tom strongly disapproved of all this. “Just think! You belong to a very rich business family and consider my post and social status here… and my wife is putting up a stage show… just give it a thought.” “I worship Saraswati and there is no comparison between Lakshmi and Saraswati.” Diana said defiantly. “This is all nonsense. You have become so blind under Chandidas‟s spell, that you don‟t care for anything.” “Don‟t speak like this. He is my Guru. I respect him. This is India and the Arts are worshipped here, not money. Artists, richer than me are standing in the roads and collecting money for the relief fund. People gather around to see them. They have a passion for the Arts in their hearts… But you cannot understand all these things.” Diana had an intense glow in her eyes… which Tom could not bear to see. His eyes clouded… and he lost the courage to look at Diana because she had the love for God in her eyes… a universal love which is embedded in everything around. The world moves on the strength of this kind of love. The rivers flow and dance and the waterfalls sprinkle... the seasons change, the clouds gather and the flowers smile. This love makes the bees hum, it makes the butterflies dance. What does Tom know about this love? According to him the essence of life is material pleasure but he does not know that this gratification and the feeling of hatred will destroy him in the end. Then there will be nobody to help him and he will pine for this love, all alone.

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Chandidas called her, “Diana, IPTA has invited us for dinner to celebrate its success. Meet me at Park Circus.” “Ok Darling… I‟ll be there on time.” By then Tom had already open his bottle of wine. As he sipped it, Nadira came with a plate full of kebabs. “This is what I call a good combination. Diana, you will never understand what to serve a person when he drinks alcohol.” He picked up a kebab and blew at it because it was very hot. “Hmm… very tasty, Nadira did you cook it?” “Yes I did... don‟t you know I am a professional cook.” Nadira looked at Diana and laughed heartily. Nadira sat on the sofa near Diana. “Coming in the evening?” “Where?” “IPTA has invited us… it is celebrating the success of its show.” “What will a biryani wali do in the midst of all those artistes?” “Who do you think is going to cook the food?” Again they laughed, this time softly, like bells chiming. Nadira had joined Chandidas and Diana‟s group formally by now. Music, drawing, painting and plays… how lively this group was? Busily running here and there... so many programmes… Nadira had to make a lot of adjustments to her comfortable lifestyle. She was the wife of the Commissioner of Police, and a mother of twin daughter but she always felt lonely. Khan Sahib was always busy in his work schedule and both the daughters were busy with their studies, sports and other activities. Perhaps this was the reason why she had become very close to Diana. Tom had lustful thoughts about her in his mind. He was enamoured by her Kashmiri beauty. Nadira was not aware of this. A shayar had said, Tu saans bhi le to bahut dheere se… Ye duniya sheeshe ki hai…, Aur aihtiyat jaroori hai. Sapne jo sheeshe ke hote hain, Ummeedein jo sheeshe ki hoti hain… Har waqt sehmapan ki kahin toot na jayein. There was a crowd of people in the house where IPTA had invited them for dinner. Ghoshal babu was also there. They talked about Sukant and Gungun in between the discussion on the plays. Chandidas and Munmun‟s eyes welled up with tears… they felt as if it had happened only yesterday. “You all are so artistic in your thoughts, what a different person she had become?” This was the question that had been troubling Ghoshal babu. “Perhaps this was her objective… which we could not understand.” It was very difficult for Munmun because she knew everything. She had been aware of Gungun‟s every step… it would have been difficult to stop her even if Munmun had wanted to because she knew that the people who wish to live in freedom cannot live in slavery. “We will get to the goal for which she has given her life. We will get freedom very soon.” Dave Franklin and Diana were present in the group, perhaps Ghoshal babu wanted them to listen in but he was surprised when Diana said, “I too wish the same.”

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Yes, it was true that many English families wanted to see India as a free country… If India becomes a free country then they will be able to return to their country. Some of them had fallen in love with India… some had married Indians… they wanted to settle down here in this country. Even otherwise it was clear that the British would not rule India for long… yet Tom wanted Diana to go to Bombay and start her buisiness. She mentioned this to Chandidas while going back home after the dinner. He said thoughtfully, “Then you will have to stay in Bombay most of the time.” “Yes, but I will be able to come here sometimes… what do you think about it?” “I feel, for a change… you should do it, perhaps Tom wants to stay separately from you for some time.” “He stays out for fifteen days in a month, on tours.” “Perhaps he has come to know about our relationship and he wants to send you away from Calcutta.” “Chandi, when I came to India I had surrendered my life to the waves of fate.” “I had no attachment with Tom… He was my father‟s choice, not mine. I had no strength to oppose my father because of my silent nature and tolerance… that was why I considered it to be my fate. Even otherwise, whatever I don‟t take to my heart does not trouble me. I tolerate such things by keeping myself aloof. You have filled up the emptiness in my life, you have given meaning to my world... in actual fact, I am made of a different earth. Chandidas closed his eyes. The tall lampposts on the roads seemed to be moving along with the speeding cars, as if they were eager to say something but were unable to speak because they were in a hurry. A pair of peacocks was sitting on the mango tree, their long tails hanging low. They were ruffled by the noise of the car and screeched loudly… a audible line seemed to have been suddenly drawn in the sands of loneliness. When they were in the car they spoke in English because the driver knew only Bengali. He had started saying ‗Good Morning‘ and ‗Good Evening‘, hoping to stay with the British family. But he was unaware of their conversation and was busy driving.

***

“Go to Bombay and see what Tom wants you to do.” “He has already made all the arrangements in Bombay. He has taken a villa on rent which he wants me to buy later. He has set up an office in Colaba, appointed a few members of staff and started some business.” “Oh I see, he has made all the arrangements to trap you there.” Suddenly, for a second it seemed as if a harmonium was being played, but the melody disappeared like a wave slipping back into the Hooghly river. Chandidas alighted at the road near his house. When the driver closed the door of the car, Diana looked at the empty seat where Chandi had been and she felt as if she was drowning in a dark, lonely bottomless pit. Diana left for Bombay on Saturday morning with Tom. She could not meet Chandi before leaving. Both of them had been very busy in their work or perhaps they were keeping themselves busy purposely so that they could tolerate the separation afterwards. The place where Tom had rented the villa was like an island in dense greenery… amidst a grove of exotic flowering plants. The rolicking waves in the sea with the sparkling sand at the

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 65 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM shore… coconut trees and custard apples. Diana was mesmerized by the beauty of these scences. The salty tang in the air of Bombay could be felt very clearly. The East India Company had taken possession of this place with great effort. Earlier, the Portugese ruled here. There was a strange attraction in this city of seven islands. In 1661 when King Charles II married the Princess of Portugal, Cathereen De Bragenza, the city of Bombay was gifted to him as dowry… At the request of the East India Company, Charles gave this on lease to Company at the rate of ten pounds per year. After that, people from rich, business families started settling here. It is said that there are gold coins under one‟s feet but one has to know how to recognize them. Perhaps this was the reason why Tom wanted Diana to expand her business in Bombay. Paro had also come along with Diana to look after her. Tom returned to Calcutta after spending two days in Bombay. He introduced George to the new staff in the Colaba office. The foundation of the business had been laid but Diana was not able to put her heart and soul in it. There was an awkwardness in the office because she was not active. She was handicapped by her heart. She used to get up suddenly at night because the noise of the sea disturbed her, then she used to get memories of Chandidas. She felt miserable, as if one part of her body was left behind in Calcutta and the remaining one was agonising here. The guards at the villa disturbed her sleep by blowing their whistles at night. She tried to find Chandidas in every corner of her room by keeping her eyes wide open but Chandidas was not there… after some time her eyes became habitual to seeing in the dark. What must he be doing at this time in Calcutta? Does he also pine for her in the dark. The sound of the waves of the sea was growing louder in her ears. Oh, so much noise! As if thousands of feet were stamping on the sand at the seashore. She used to become very restless at times and stood near the window, resting her head on the window frame as she peeped out. The huge trees looked like the ghostly shadows, making her scared. When she was in Kufree, the gibbous moon enconsced in fog had looked like a stud in the middle of the sky but here it could not be seen for miles. Only the stars were shining as if somebody had overturned a basket full of fireflies in a dark cave. Chandidas rang up early in the morning, giving her new life in her body. “How are you Chandi? I can feel the loneliness in your voice… I simply can‟t think of anything else other than you.” “What is happening to us Radhe? How will we spend our life like this? A separation of only a few days has taken the life out of my body.” “No Chandi, now I can‟t expand my business over here. I have to stop it here. I have to come back to you Chandi, I have to come back.” “I know Radhe, you will come back to me. I will keep myself alright until then. Ghoshal babu has suggested that I join IPTA… Nandlal was telling me that a play by IPTA has completed fifteen shows in one of the theaters in Bombay. They are going to start a new play and the rehearsals will take place in Bombay. I am going to get an important role in that play.” “You accept that role and come to Bombay right now.” The information about Chandidas coming to Bombay had changed Diana‟s daily routine. Now she felt like reading books on Hind literature. She had already read English literature and many books from Bengali literature. She had purchased the whole series of Munshi Premchand‘s books and the entire collection of Chandra Kanta Santati from the bookstore. Her father was a successful businessman but she had no interest in business. She was born in a family where the jangling of money was there but not the music. She could not understand how

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 66 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM she had taken birth in such a family. Diana‟s expanse of mind was very vast. She had built the foundation of her knowledge by reading literature on music, drawing and painting, drama and subjects related to the Indian revolution for freedom. She was standing on a pedestal which was beyond worldly wealth and relationships. It was lofty and touched the pitamber of Krishn… Krishn was the amazing treasure of love. Such was the expanse of His true love, it is said that once when Rukmani gave hot milk to Radha, to test her love for Krishn and she drank it, Krishn got blisters in his throat. Diana had never heard of this kind of love. George had started managing the work in the office but he was not putting his full effort in it because Daina was not showing any interest in it. Even then, he used to keep all the files on Diana‟s table early in the morning every day, for her to review his work. Diana had visited the Colaba office a few times. She checked the files when she was there last and gave her approval. There was a lot of revolutionary activity in Bombay. Everybody had only one thing in mind; that India was divided because Jinnah, who lived in Diana‟s neighbourhood in Malabar Hill and was demanding a separate Pakistan. People had lost their peace of mind. If there was to be a separate country called Pakistan then what would happen to the Muslims… they would have to leave India? It was obvious that the sun of British empire was going to set… Diana‟s mind wandered to thoghts of Tom. Tom would go back but if she had to go along with him then what would happen to her world of love? It will have to remain in India. She sat gazing at the sea at night. It seemed to have formed a U shape. The reflection of the lights of the roads looked like diamonds in the water. Her eyes were settled on the beautiful scene for a while. The sparkling beauty of the queen‟s necklace could not make her mind peaceful though the red and yellow reflection of the lights in the dark sea was making her very dreamy. A Maharashtrian girl brought Gajras of the Mogra flowers and requested her to buy some... “Memsahib Gajre le lo.” Paro gestured to shoo her away but Diana called her back and bought all the gajras from her. The smile which spread across the girl‟s face had more fragrance than the gajras. Chandidas came to Bombay on the fifteenth day. The director of the play had made arrangements for him to stay in a small house at Mahim but Diana asked him to move into the mansion. “Rehearsals will be at Opera House. This place will be closer to it.” Chandidas was very excited. IPTA had fulfilled his long cherished desire by giving him an important role in the play. Whatever he had done in Calcutta was based on his own thoughts and was limited to the audience of Calcutta. Now he was going to get a large canvas on which he could use the resplendent colours of his abilities and present them to a much larger audience. Moreover, he would be in the company of Diana, in a place surrounded by the sea. They went for early morning walks by the sea shore. Chandidas would swim in the sea while Diana bathed in the sun, the first rays of the rising sun caressing her curvaceous body. After the sunbath she would join him and they would swim together. When they were tired they would lie down on the sand and gaze at each other immersed in love. “It is said that Krishn always appears when he hears the tinkling bells of Radha‟s anklets.” “Radha and Krishn take birth in each era in the form of true love. Radha is always present wherever love exists.” “And Krishn is always there wherever there is Radha.” They would return home when the sun climbed higher and its hot rays made the sand glisten.

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Today, Paro had asked the cook to prepare Aloo Paratha for breakfast. She gave instructions as she prepared juice, “Now stop heating them and keep them aside. Make some hot ones when memsahib and babu moshay are ready to eat. After breakfast Diana wanted to visit the Afghan Church at Colaba. She had decided to go to the office while returning and the car would drop Chandidas for the play rehearsal. They would not eat lunch today. Both of them were full with parathas and there would be no time for lunch because they would be busy until three or four O‟clock. Diana was mesmerized by the gothic art in the Afgan Church. The tower of the church was so tall that a person would feel giddy looking at the spire. This tower showed the way to the ships sailing towards Bombay Harbour. She started crossing the aisle of the church holding Chandidas‟s hand. There were tombstones on the walls with the names of Afghan war martyrs inscribed on them. The pillars, constructed in dorik style, were breathtaking. Chadidas and Diana were wonder-struck by the magical beauty of the church. Inside the church, dimly lit the hall glowed in the light of candles. They came out of the church after the prayers “I don‟t know Chandi… whenever I come to a Church I feel very sad. I feel very strange. As if, I am Mother Mary and I am bearing a cross on my chest experiencing the pain of the generations to come. When the Bishop rings the bell in the chapel, I feel that the cows of the Gop-gwalas of Vrinadavan are around me and the bells around their necks are tinkling... and sometimes I am Sita in exile. I feel that all these religious symbols belong to me and I am entangled in them.” Chandidas tapped his finger on her beautiful nose and said, “You are my only Radha and this is the only truth.” As they sat in the car, a souffle of clouds floated in the sky, the sun hiding within and increasing the dampness of the sea winds. There was a small procession marching along the road chanting Vande Mataram slogans. There was a tricolour flag in their hands and their steps were full of spirited purpose. The BBC news could be heard on the radio in a nearby hotel… the news of the Indian revolution, Bharat Chodo... The Muslim League‘s call for a separate Pakistan… wherever there was a majority of Muslims… they should have a separate country of their own… A burka clad lady from a chawl of Colaba asked a Maharashtrian lady wearing a nine yard saree, “Apaa, what kind of a noise is this?” “Oh bai, they are demanding a separate Pakistan.” “Pakistan...? Is there a mazar or dargah named Pakistan?” “I don‟t know… bai, give me some sugar I have not had tea since morning.” “Incidents… discussions… debates… the common man needs only salt, oil and wood sticks.‟ And Diana was soon to be lost. Chandidas was there to support her but what could be done about the social ties with Tom? At night during a moment of extreme intimacy she asked, “Chandi, is it necessary that I continue my relationship with Tom? The colours of relationships can be changed, can‟t they?” “Chandidas embraced and kissed her lips gently. “You can divorce Tom after reaching Calcutta.” “But he will never divorce me. He wants to enjoy my wealth. He has become habitual of indulging in comforts and luxuries.” Chandidas was in deep thought, “There is no solution to this problem in my mind. I am ready to marry you but what will you do with Tom. Till how long can I maintain this relationship by snatching you from him? Is it going to continue like this our whole life?”

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Diana started laughing even in this serious moment. Chandidas was taken in by this facet of his beloved. Time seemed to slow down as if it was wonder-struck by this obsessed couple… the whole world was a trifle for them… all prosperity, comforts, relationships… the only thing that existed was their love… love which had no tongue to speak but it whispered through their entwined bodies, “I am there, I am inside you, I am the kiss, I am the embrace, I am the act of love, I am the creation, I am the death… I am the lust and the desire…because of my restless energy I frolic in you. When Lord Krishn incarnated on this Earth in the form of a human being, I became Radha and merged in Him. Radha filled His flute with music and becoming the reverberation, spreading herself across His Creation. In the middle of the night, Diana woke up from her sleep. She smiled at Chandidas who was sleeping blissfully. She covered him with a sheet and went to the bathroom after putting on her gown. Her body ached with a sweet pain, which Chandidas gave her. She always yearned to feel this kind of pain and loved it when it came from Chandidas.

***

George was happy with the favour Diana had done him. He belonged to a poor family from London. His father had educated him and his four siblings by working as a labourer in a mill. Diana had helped him from time to time and now again she was helping him. She had selected and appointed him as her personal assistant because he was an honest, hardworking and responsible person. Diana had given all responsibilities to him and had herself became carefree. George could not tolerate anybody going against Diana‟s wishes. He knew that her relationship with Tom was strained. Diana did not have a happily married life, even then she cared for others. She had advised George several times to get married but he had always ignored it. This time he had made up his mind. There was a Parsee girl, Deena Sethna, who worked in the Colaba office. They felt attracted towards each other and had decided to get married. Deena‟s family had come to India from Persia when their religion was under attack. The Parsees, who followed the Zoroastrian religion had to leave their country to save their sacred fire Iranshah from the Arab Muslim community. The Parsees were very soft-natured, full of mercy and ready to mingle with all communities. The Parsee community lost no time in proving themselves faithful to the British Crown and Bombay Residency. As a result, the British admired them. The Parsee community was the uppermost community after the British and they came forward to educate themselves in modern ways. Dadabhai Nowroji sensed the economic crunch which was afflicting India because of British domination and wrote with great pain; “British rule is exploiting the wealth of India as if it were soaking a sponge in our river Ganges and squeezing it out in the river Thames in London.” This statement by Dadabhai Nowroji inspired the Parsee community to join the Independence movement. Deena‟s father, Peshan Sethna also joined in. Deena‟s family believed that it was their duty to work for the independence of the country where they had settled, were doing business in and were flourishing. They had no religious persecution or restraints, on the contrary their spoken language was Gujarati, the mother tongue of the local Gujarati community. They had even added flavours of their Irani language in it and now it was called the Irani Parsee language. Deena herself had revolutionary ideas but she had not come forward and expressed them. She did believe in freedom of thought and did whatever her heart felt good doing. She had decided to have a court marriage with George.

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There were uncountable flowers on the roads of Bombay, reflecting the change in season. Deena‟s father was concerned with the question that if the All India Revolution resulted in the freedom of India and the British had to return to their country, then what would happen to his daughter. But Deena had no time to think about this. So they got married in a very simple function. Diana was so happy that she felt that her real brother was getting married. She kissed Deena on the forehead and said, “Congratulations...! Don‟t think of anything else… just think that both of you are starting a new life, leave everything else in the hands of time.” Deena folded her hands,“Madam… we need only your blessings, we will walk the ways of our life, ourselves.” Now there was one person added to Diana‟s family. The doors for a few things were closed for George because he was a man, Deena could reach there being a woman. The play rehearsals had ended, only the dress rehearsal remained and then the final show… after two days. Chandidas was very busy and Diana was with him like a shadow… his inspiration… as if Chandidas had no existence without her… and it was true in every sense. Chandidas wanted to give a surprise to Diana after the dress rehearsal. The previous evening he had purchased a few records with songs of Noor Jahan, Shamshad Begum, Suraiya and Ameerbai Karnataki. He was going to gift these records to Diana today and secondly there was to be a meeting with Naman da. He had invited him to his house today. “Naman da is a song writer, musician and a singer… though all his work was used in films, he was a musician by birth.” “Arre, I‟d love to meet him.” “Your wish is my command… come, let‟s go.” When Chandidas finished his work he was always in a jolly mood otherwise he was fully engrossed in the task at hand. They were both very happy to meet Naman da. Dada told them that he was working in Filmistan and Bombay Talkies. The aim of his life was to sing and give music to film songs. He sang a song for them and Diana felt that she was sitting in a boat and the words of his song were rising and falling with the hull of her boat. “Why don‟t you sing for films?” “No dada... that is not our expertise. There is a lot of struggle in that field and we do not have time for it.” “Okay... both of you come to the studio tomorrow, then I can record your solo and duet songs.” “Oh! Really! You have said exactly what was in our minds. But, we have not rehearsed for a long time. Also, I am fully focused on the show at the moment. Let the show get over first.” “Okay.” Naman da gave them a book of songs. “I will ask you to sing from these songs. I will compose music for them.” There were no instruments available in the villa. So a harmonium, dholak, tabla and tanpura were purchased. The show ran successfully for a week in Natya Theatre. It was decided that more shows would be held in Bangalore in January and Chandidas also got busy in Bombay. Diana had a treasure trove of songs with her... She only had to do the rehearsals which she used to do with Chandidas in the mornings. Deena and George returned after their honeymoon in Mahabaleshwar and got busy with the routine at work.

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After fifteen days of hard work, Diana and Chandidas‟s songs were recorded under the music direction of Naman da. When the record in their fresh voices was released in the market, it was met with tremendous appreciation. To Diana, it was magical and beyond Chandidas‟s imagination. That day, as they were sitting by the seashore watching the waves rollicking, they spoke no words and in those silent moments they were immersed in their infinite belief in God, enjoying the unlimited beauty and pleasure. At that very time, a group of children came by laughing enthusiastically and slogans could be heard from a distance... Inqulab Zindabad, Vande Mataram... Diana shuddered and looked at Chandidas. The orange Sun was half set in the sea and the waves reflected a hue of seven colours... “Life has so many colours... I am a school teacher and...” “Such a talented actor, artist and singer... ” “And all of this has happened after meeting you, Radhe, from your good luck.” “From my good luck! Diana smiled slightly. No Chandi, don‟t ascribe your dream come true to my luck. All this is your ability... in fact your guiding hand has helped me... ” Chandidas gazed at the sun setting in the horizon... The sea was turning red as it drew the waves in, embracing them as they came... The stars in the sky twinkled approvingly. “Now, I have to make Bombay my work place... which means constant travel between Bombay and Calcutta... You are with me in this journey, aren‟t you Radhika?”Diana placed her head on his shoulders, “I belong only to you.” Slowly the beach started becoming lonely. Children were returning home with their mothers, leaving their sand castles behind... Only young couples remained, enjoying their time together. Chandidas returned to Calcutta in the morning.

***

Ever since Tom had come to Calcutta, leaving Diana behind in Bombay, he had been upbeat because of her growing business. He was looking forwarding to increasing his wealth... more luxuries... a more comfortable and bright future... He sat down with a glass of wine and played an African melody on the gramophone. “How are you Tom Sahib? How is our Diana in Bombay?” Tom was surprised at seeing Nadira, “Oh! You?” “Yes I was getting bored at home and I wanted to know about Diana too.” Tom switched off the gramophone, made her sit on the sofa and offered her a glass of wine. Nadira laughed, “Toba,Toba... Drinking alcohol is a sin in our religion.” “No, I have had drinks with Muslims. Khan Saheb also drinks.” “God alone knows about him... I follow the Roza and Namaz. It is a sin for me.” Tom was not in a mood to argue on religion. He changed the topic and asked, “Where is Khan Saheb.?” “He has gone to bring his daughters back from Srinagar. They have been with their grandmother during the last few days.” “Oh! Then it would be difficult for you to spend time alone at home. Have dinner with me here.” Nadira could not say no to him. Bonomali was returning with the dog after his stroll... Blossom was playing on the carpet. Tom‟s eyes were red from the effect of alcohol. All he could

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 71 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM see was a ravishing Nadira, in front of him. She looked stunning in the gorgeous black salwar kurta with Kashmiri embroidery. Long, loose hair falling on her waist like dark clouds... beautiful eyes like lakes, her fair, round face and fleshy hips... as he started getting up for dinner he extended his hand towards Nadira, “Come, dinner is served.” Nadira ignored his outstretched hand and walked herself to the dining table. Bonomali was laying out the dinner plates. There was chicken curry, a couple of cooked vegetables, raita, pudding and a bowl of salad. He served them with warm chapatis as Tom asked her, “Take more, you haven‟t eaten anything.” Nadira did not like being formal. She liked to be straightforward and did not make any refrains during dinner. They chatted for about half an hour after dinner... it was difficult for Tom, because having drunk so much he needed a woman. A rare beauty stood in front of him but he had no courage to touch her. He could not sleep after Nadira left. He kept tossing and turning in his bed. He could not sleep and felt like crying at his loneliness. Next evening, after returning from the office and freshening up, he himself went to Nadira‟s bungalow. Nadira was doing some crochet work. She looked at him and smiled. “How was the night? Could you sleep without Diana?” “Don‟t ask anything... I am very lonely these days.” Tom sat down on the sofa casually. “Strange, isn‟t it? Diana is alone in Bombay. Khan Saheb is in Srinagar and I am here... ” “So, why don‟t we enjoy this separation?” Tom said deliberately. Nadira released the crochet thread from her finger and kept it on the table. “Sure, Sir... we will play carrom. Let‟s have some coffee first. I make very nice coffee.” She walked towards the kitchen. She kept some water to boil on the heater. She was serving some snacks on the plates when Tom quietly came from behind and held her tightly. “Nadira stumbled, “Mr. Tom, what is this...?” But she could not complete her sentence. Tom‟s lips pressed against hers tightly. She moved away trembling and stared at Tom, but Tom was not in his senses. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. “You are not doing a good thing. If Khan Sahib comes to know... ” But Tom‟s mind was made up. The police commissioner‟s wife would not make a noise and tell people. Her prestige was at stake. She would not even tell Khan Sahib because he would point a finger at her too. Nadira‟s married life wouldl become hell and Tom took full advantage her sealed lips. For fifteen days until Khan Sahib returned, he entered Nadira‟s bungalow during the silence of night and returned home at midnight. A strong lady like Nadira who actively supports women‟s causes, participates in empowerment programs and is herself modest and intelligent... how could she be exploited by Tom every night and submit her body to him... she could herself not understand this paradox. Of course, she knew that this is transient. Tom had no love for her in his heart... even then... it could be possible that a corner in her own heart was incomplete with the love of Khan Sahib and now Tom had taken it under his control. Tom was sent on a tour to the forests of Madhya Pradesh, the day after Khan Sahib returned. He knew about Chandidas and that he went to Bombay and stayed in the villa. Even otherwise there was nothing to hide. Diana and Tom had their own lives to live. They had their own hobbies, likings and principles. There was no interference in each other‟s way of life. But Tom could not accept it if it affected his rights. He knew that Diana might divorce him. Whenever he

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 72 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM thought of it he could not sleep at night and used to drink till very late. No, he could not leave Diana at any cost. Neither would he leave her nor would he allow her to leave him. Many a times he would make up his mind to give Diana so much love that she wouldn‟t possibly stray but every time he tried, his hopes would come crashing down. Definitely there was a big gulf between her beauty, intelligence, rich upbringing and elegant nature and the events in London when Diana‟s father picked him up from an ordinary farmer‟s family and made him his son-in- law... Now he felt that it was not an obligation but a relationship which was given to him in charity and which would never permit him to forget how he had spent his years of study in Cambridge without even eating properly. Suddenly, he remembered his friend John from Cambridge who taught literature now-a-days. When he used to visit London, he spent time with John. John was his intimate friend... he would place his problem in front of him and ask for his advice. The thought gave him solace. There were four British officers who were very fond of eating and drinking. But today, Tom could not enjoy anything. He was thinking of London, when he used to get wet in the rains with John and he had no money in his pocket even to drink coffee and have buttered toast in a decent restaurant. They used to stroll up to the villages far away from London. In fact, Tom‟s childhood was spent in those villages. He had a small house there and the farms belonged to landowners where his father used to work as a farmer. Afterwards they had come to Buckingham where he used to visit a country kahva house and sip kahva, sitting near the oven for warmth. What days they were? Uncertain, difficult times, passing at a snail‟s pace... Afterwards... after a long time when Diana got married to him, he became an object of envy amongst his friends. Everyone was jealous of his good fortune. Perhaps they did not know that Diana‟s father had got him married to Diana after thinking it through. He had seen spoilt boys from prosperous families who were not a good match and could lead to a certain divorce after a few years of marriage... at least this poor boy would keep Diana well in her prosperity. He had identified the strong wings of a flying bird. Tom lived up to his expectations. Then someone knocked on the door. The forest was yawning tiredly in dark solitude. No, today he was not in a mood. His British friends knew that Tom did not sleep this early... very often he used to say that he could not give his nights to anyone, even if it was God. His nights belonged to him only. But today he was not in a mood. He apologised to his friends and reluctantly lay down on his bed. How could he sleep now...? Chandidas stood like a big question mark in front of him. Chandidas had caused his life to turn topsy-turvy. He wanted to get rid of the feeling but how could he? He took out a sheet of paper from his file and began writing a letter to John… ‗John, my friend. The character in this play with Diana has become a headache for me now. An artist has entered her life. I am under great stress. I cannot understand how to rid myself of it. Shall I myself leave or shall I make that intruder leave? It is not very easy. Diana has made him a part and parcel of her life. God only knows what attraction there is in that Bengali guy. Maybe his big, dark eyes have got some magic in them. Otherwise Diana does not melt so easily. This thorn has become like a deep abscess in my life... Diana is going away from my life... tell me John what should I do?‘ Tom felt a little relaxed after writing the letter. He fixed himself a drink and began sipping it slowly as he enjoyed the beautiful moonlight shimmering in the corridor. His friends had already gone to sleep. What must Diana be doing at this time? She must either be really happy after

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 73 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM launching the new project or would she have done it only because he had insisted so much? As he ruminated over these thoughts, he did not realise when he fell asleep. The next day was a busy one at work. They did not even get time to eat food... Exhausted, at night they fell asleep and woke up the next morning. It was a holiday. After breakfast, Tom went along with his friends to swim in the river. The watchman of the guesthouse warned them, “Sir... there is a pair of crocodiles that live there.” They were very cautious while swimming. No crocodile came near them. After returning they had lunch and slept the whole afternoon because they had planned to go hunting at night. They were early October nights... all of them wore half-sleeved pullovers. Tarababu, who used to make arrangements with the forest department in-charge, was told to do so along with Musaddilal. Tarababu told them that there were cheetahs, tigers and lions in the jungle... they all come out at night in search of their prey. They needed to make a platform on a tree and use a search light. In the darkness, each of them had two quick shots of whisky... just to keep them alert. They were going to hunt; so it was necessary to remain alert. They enjoyed eating the chapatis and chicken in the jungle. When it became dark enough at night they went into the dense forest in a jeep and placed themselves on the platform on a tree, fully armed with their guns. Musaddilal was with them carrying a thermos flask of tea. Tarababu had gone to park the jeep. A terrified goat was tied to a tree but it had become quiet after hearing their footsteps. Tarababu returned after some time and held up the searchlight. The cold penetrating wind made shuddering sounds as it bristled through the leaves. The tall trees all around looked like black ghosts. In the quiet, at the sound of a howling jackal, birds fluttered in their nests. Soon, the moon came out in the night sky spreading its light all over. A titahari cried out tihu-tihu and flew from the platform as if it was flying towards the moon. As the night wore on, they yawned with boredom. Mussaddilal served them a hot cup of tea each... there was no lion, no cheetah, no tiger... nothing even far off. It was nearly dawn. The goat too was tired of bleating… but nobody noticed two gleaming eyes. Gradually, the jungle became visible in the increasing daylight. They all came down from the platform. Tom took his gun off his shoulders and gave it to Mussaddilal, “Mussaddilal, are you sure there are lions, cheetahs and leopards.” “Yes, sir... I have seen them with my own eyes... There, on the other side of the river, all of them come to drink water.” “Come, show me that river.” “Oh, it is the same river that flows from there, where all of you had gone to take a bath.” All of them began walking slowly in the fresh air. “Tarababu, you keep the luggage in the jeep. Mussaddilal, you help Tarababu. We will take a stroll and come back.” They walked away leaving their footprints on the soft green grass. There were wild flowers on the trees, their fragrance wafting in the wind. The chirping birds made the forest seem alive. Suddenly, a group of tribal women passed by. They were walking in a straight column; dark, shining like sheesham, sarees tied up-to their knees, no blouse... their bosoms covered with the pallu of their sarees... the men‟s minds reeled with desire. They stood still, each thinking the same thoughts. The column of women disappeared around the foot of the mountains. The men began talking about their youth. They were overawed by the huge banyan trees. Tom had seen such a massive tree in the botanical garden of Calcutta, so large that its branches were buried in

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 74 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM the ground making a kind of umbrella on top. Something resembling a saree was lying on the grass... yes, a blue cotton saree was spread under the sun to dry. There was a small well in the direction where the saree was drying. They peeped into the well. Steps covered with moss coiled all the way down. There, in the middle of the cold water, glistening in the sunshine was a tribal woman. She was sitting on the steps bathing, completely naked. Perhaps she had only one saree, which she had washed and spread in the sun to dry. They all looked down at her and whistled. She looked up, thoroughly astonished and frightened. She crossed her arms over her breasts. By then Tom had already started going down the steps. He extended his hand towards the woman. She shook her head declining the offer... drops of water trickled down her naked body and she trembled in fright and the cool breeze. Tom held her hand firmly and tried to pull her up. “Finlay, come downstairs, help me.” One of them, Finlay, a Britisher, climbed down the stairs and helped carry the woman up, holding her legs and hands. Then with a swing, they threw her on the grass. Their intentions were clear. At first Tom and then all the others, raped her one by one. The woman was young. Her screams shook the trees nearby... She resisted till the end with all her strength, she pinched and scratched them, but they were five of them... when the last person finished and let out a howl of satisfaction, a young tribal man arrived and began screaming and throwing stones at them. They were without any weapons. All the guns were with Musaddilal. They turned and ran in the direction of the platform on the tree. In the afternoon, the tribals surrounded the guest house. They had bows, arrows and spears with them and were challenging the British in their language. Musaddilal came there worried... “Sir, do not go out. They are ferocious... that woman has killed herself by jumping in the well.” “So? Tell them to go away quietly... we have guns.” Tom said harshly. “No Sir... Do not make this mistake... These people have big tribes. They will burn down the jungle and the guest house... Sir, you will go away but I will be killed later. It is a question of my livelihood. I have to live in the forest.” Musaddilal begged them. “So what should we do? Become a target for their arrows?” Tom glared at him. “Just do not go out... give me some money and I shall manage everything.” Tom gave his wallet to Musaddilal. He went out. God alone knows what he did... after half an hour when he returned, Tom‟s wallet was empty and the tribesmen had gone away. Tom laughed... greedy dogs. He could sleep comfortably now. It was evening. The Sun was setting, its rays spraying the windows of the bungalow with the seven colours of a rainbow. Tom had returned, happy and fresh... Now the first thing he had to do was to think about Chandidas with a cool mind, sitting in a lonely place and then to send a letter to John and to wait for his reply... wait and wait. The waiting would kill him. He wanted a reply soon. He was feeling flustered and bothered... God alone knew why? Maybe he wasn‟t at peace because he didn‟t want to live in India and wanted to return to London. He hated this country, the people of this country... living with fools, villagers, he had also become like them. And Diana was so impressed with this country... full of awe, she was always singing praises about the arts, literature and the like. And the stupid woman had fallen in love with a slave. What had happened to his race? To Diana? To C.F. Andrews, who had touched the feet of Mahatma Gandhi and was called the biggest admirer of India. Diana had given him a book written by Andrews, ‗Indian Independence, Its Immediate Need‘. He could not understand what India would do after gaining independence? It could not walk even a step without any support. It had been a slave for centuries before the British arrived. God alone knows how many foreign clans

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 75 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM had ruled it. Tom was a knowledgeable history scholar, so he could rattle off the names of all foreign looters and raiders who had looted this country and ruled it. He was proud of his own country, England. The British ruled many countries... he certainly belonged to a noble race. He was better than others, intelligent and balanced. One Britisher from his clan, Andrews may be an admirer of India... living in Tagore‟s Shantiniketan, writing articles for non-resident Indians, writing books but the magic of being British was something special. Could anyone point out an Indian who was an admirer of France, Russia or England? It just wasn‟t possible. These slaves were not so refined? They were meant to be used as slaves and shot when their work was done. Their women were meant to be enjoyed. They were meant to be enjoyed. It had been happening for many centuries. The world would go on like this. It would not change. If any change had to take place, it was that Chandidas would go to hell and he, Tom would enjoy the world with Diana. Tom was thinking and planning till late at night on how to get rid of Chandidas. He was thinking as he drank. He wanted to make a plan that would get rid of Chandidas without Diana or his family coming to know about it. But, how? Why not call John from London? Or he himself could go to London for a few days. Yes... that would be all right. He could give a thought to all the problems, sitting with John and chalk out a foolproof plan. It was important to be careful because Chandidas had become a famous singer, actor and artist. His group was an embodiment of famous people and artists. He had raised a lot of hue and cry for the famine relief fund. People praised him a lot and the whole of Bengal held him in high esteem. He had to take a lot of care while making any decision about Chandidas. It would be all right if he went to London. He would go via Bombay and would meet Diana too. They had not met for many months. Diana did not come to Calcutta. She had become engrossed in her business and had started liking it. Tom cheered up. To be busy in the business meant more wealth. He began feeling intoxicated and his eyes began shutting. Diana had purchased the same villa in which she had been living as a tenant. She had started liking Bombay. She had ample opportunity to spend time with Chandidas. He conducted his music classes in Calcutta and was also deeply involved in stage plays and music in Bombay. IPTA‟s attraction was very strong. Their actors were spread all over India and carrying out new experiments. At times, actors from different provinces used to present diverse programmes like folk plays of their own cultures and languages. Chandidas was also planning to prepare a programme based on Jatra, together with the artistes of Calcutta. Bombay was the safest place for doing these things. Many of Chandidas‟s recorded songs had been released in the market. Diana was also not far behind in singing. Music composers were surprised at her Hindi and Urdu and happily gave her chances to sing. She sang many songs with Chandidas and played classical music too, leaving behind many other singers. When she visited Calcutta during Christmas, Diana brought back Blossom, Porgi and Bess to Bombay. She was not alone in Malabar Hill. George and Deena were also staying in the villa with her. Durgadas, Paro‟s husband had also come to Bombay and had taken the responsibility of all the work in the villa. Tom had called Dorothy from Calcutta as a caretaker for Diana. She was a fat, authoritative, middle aged, Christian lady. The villa now had about half a dozen people. Chandidas‟s room was always kept ready for him... decorated... even when he had to go to Calcutta for a few days, Paro never forgot to keep a vase of fresh flowers in his room.

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Diana visited Calcutta during Christmas. Chandidas was there too but stayed mostly in Shantiniketan. There, the students were translating an English play into Hindi so that Chandidas could present it on stage. His solo exhibition of paintings was also going to be held in Shantiniketan. Diana did not inform Tom about her arrival... she wanted to give him a surprise. When Bonomali informed Tom about her arrival, he came out shaken up from his bedroom, followed by Nadira. Diana was flabbergasted. What was this? She was familiar with Tom‟s habits... but she never expected this from Nadira. She turned her face and sat down on the sofa. Nadira came to her. She held her hands... “Please forgive me Diana... but try to understand one thing... your husband does not love you... how did you spend so many years of your life with him?” Diana was enraged, “What are you trying to say, Nadira? Are you trying to excuse yourself from sin.” “No, Diana... I was helpless. I am from a respectable and prestigious family. Tom took advantage of this and harassed me sexually... You have been away from here for more than a year... I became the victim of his lust.” “So, what else could I do? How else could I satisfy my sexual urges in your absence. You care for these slaves, Diana... They are there for our enjoyment.” “You bastard.” Nadira got up and gave him a tight slap on his cheek. “How can you call us slaves when you are living in our country, at our mercy? Did you bring any treasure from England of which you are boasting so much? You all will be thrown out from here in such a way that you will never turn back to look in this direction.” And she left in a huff. Everything unfolded like a cinema reel in front of Diana and then the scene was over... the curtain was drawn. Neither did Diana have any feelings for Tom earlier, nor did she now... in fact, now she had developed even stronger ill will towards him. But, the thing that hurt her most was his words about where could he satisfy his lust in her absence. She began hating herself for the fact that she was only an object of lust in Tom‟s life. Oh! God, what kind of a life was this? What kind of fate did she have? On the one hand, a treasure brimming with love was waiting for her and on the other, the fire of lust, impatient to swallow her. After being consumed by the fire, would she remain intact, in one piece or would she submit her broken body at the feet of her Chandidas? Diana felt nauseous. Suddenly, she felt a terrible headache and she lay down on the sofa holding her head. Tom came to her shamelessly, “Your head is aching. I will send some medicine.” Diana‟s ears were numb... she could barely see everything with half-opened eyes. Bonomali had brought the medicine. Paro was standing with a cup of tea at her bedside. Then she gave the cup to Bonomali to hold and started massaging the soles of her feet... like Chandidas used to do. She murmured in her heart, “I am yours Chandi and you are a tiny part of the Almighty who has sent me to this world”.

***

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 77 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

5 There was Diana who had been running her business successfully in Bombay for four years... and then there was Diana who had been causing a furore in the vocal arts. A furore because in spite of being British she was far removed from English music. The music that came from within her was purely Indian. Music was her soul. And there was this Diana for whom Chandidas was that god of love for whose love she pined. Her relationship with Chandidas was that of a partner, a lover and now a lifelong companion and everyone associated with her during her six years with Chandidas knew this. Even Tom. Tom may have been her husband but Diana had never accepted him as such. She appeared to be married to Chandidas even though she had no such relationship with him. Yet, her behaviour with Chandidas was like that of a wife. She had built everything in her Malabar Hill home together with Chandidas... and in that sense she had been fulfilling her feminine duties with Chandidas. There was not an iota of difference between their free relationship and that of a married couple. Diana had accepted the fact that in her eight year of marriage to Tom, she had lived a monotonous and boring life... a life that belonged only to Tom and which Diana could enter only because she was his wife. Other than that there was no other aspect by which Tom was suitable for her. The revolution was at its peak. Each state was smouldering. Everywhere only one slogan resounded... Freedom... Freedom... We want freedom... Britishers Go Away... Leave us so we can be free from mental and physical slavery... We can have our own culture, religion and philosophy. The poems by famous poets rent the air... Long before Jesus, Muhammad and other prophets, our civilization was thriving, does anyone know? The winds of change were blowing not only in India but all around the world. The entire international outlook was changing... there was commotion everywhere. Japan was already destroyed... Fire... Fire... the burning flames of humanity spreading everywhere. A worried Diana had told George, "I think we should shut down our company.” "Yes Madam... The country‟s situation is such that the East India Company could crumble at anytime." "We should go back to Calcutta and think about it seriously. This is not the time to be disoriented" Diana said to George thoughtfully and when Chandidas returned from his recording she reiterated it to him.” “I agree with you... I am worried about Maa and Baba... Calcutta is in the grip of the flames of revolution. Anything can happen at any time." "But what will you do in Calcutta? Now you don‟t even have a job in Calcutta?" "They are still keen on having me back but I no longer want to do a job... I will grow my Institute and keep it associated with IPTA." Diana felt the weight of Chadidas‟s words. He was now at such a level of popularity that his path could not be changed. George had placed newspaper advertisements for the sale of the villa... Deena had given birth to twins last year. His father and family had gone and settled in Surat and Deena had planned to settle with George in London. They would help manage Diana‟s entire business there. But Diana had to yet approve this plan. Diana had grown close to Deena... they seemed to be like sisters;

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 78 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM born of the same womb. No work of Deena was complete without Diana. Perhaps this was why she had not been allowed to go to London. Diana felt depressed by the radical changes that were taking place in her own self along with those that were happening in the country. It seemed as if everything was shattering around her. Her eyes opened as soon as it became dark. She gently released herself from Chandidas‟s arms and went and stood by the window. Her eyes peering, she stopped in the darkness. This auspicious time of Brahma was most mysterious. The pale light of the setting moon seemed to be digging into her past. Castles made of sand by children near the shore were being swept away. Behind her were the green waters of Malabar Hill and up ahead was the ever changing Arabian Sea... and the wailing of the cautious breeze moving between them settled in her breath... it seemed as if the breeze was trying to soak in every drop of water from the undulating waves that were crashing into the rocky shore and rushing back to meet the ocean... returning only to disappear into its vastness... was this a manifestation of life as well. Suddenly Chandidas woke up. Not finding Diana in bed, he grew worried. He rose silently and tiptoed up to her, embracing her gently. Diana‟s face was shining brightly, "There‟s a surprise for you." Chandidas was intrigued, "Tell me." "Our love is about to bloom... our own baby... which is now inside me." Chandidas stared at Diana in amazement, his eyes wide open as if he could not believe her... Diana... my Radhe... is it really true?" "Yes Chandi... The doctor told me yesterday that I am one month pregnant." "Oh my God... Radhe I will go mad." He lifted Diana in his arms, kissing her wildly as he placed her on the bed. "Now I do not care... our unfinished work will be completed by this baby... I will remain alive forever in this child. Both, me and you." This was in January 1946. Tom came there in February and Diana returned to Calcutta breaking all ties with Bombay. Diana did not like her caretaker Dorothy... and she was much closer to Paro and Durgadas. So Diana came back to her old days in Calcutta and began living a peaceful life in the care of Bonamali. Her relationship with Tom was not sweet but socially they played their role of husband and wife. Khan Sahib had been transferred and a British police officer had come to live in Nadira‟s bungalow.

***

Time passed. Tom had made a plan to keep Chandidas away from Diana and he wanted to go to London to consult John. But because of the rapidly changing political situation, the East India Company did not allow him to go. Unaware of all this, Diana put on a gramophone record of Noor Jahan and asked Paro to get her a cup of coffee, as she lay down on the couch, closed her eyes and enjoyed the song. These days, she had withdrawn herself from all that was happening around her and had placed her full attention on the unborn baby in her womb. What would happen when the baby comes into this world? She could clearly hear the calls of Spring at the door... but suddenly out of nowhere, Autumn had arrived and filled her with fear... What kind of circumstances was this child taking birth in...? It was Chandidas‟s child but the world would still think that Tom was its father. Just the thought of this made Diana cry. Her teardrops began falling with the sad voice of Noor Jahan. "Aaj ki raat ye saaje- dil purdard na ched...‖

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"What is this Radhike... You are crying?" Diana was startled as she saw Chandidas. She wiped her tears with a handkerchief and smiled ----"No, nothing at all," she shrugged and lifted the gramophone needle off the record. "You will have to promise me one thing, Radhe... I am announcing a curfew on your tears, sighs and sorrow while my child is growing inside you. Do you know the sentence for breaking curfew?" Diana made the sound of a gunshot as she pointed her finger towards her head, "Bang... " They laughed and walked out to the lawn. Calcutta had visibly changed by now. Tricolours everywhere, waving in the winds... but these political developments concerned neither Chandidas nor Diana... both lovers were immersed in each other.. "Which gift will we get... a daughter or son?" "God alone knows... what will you be happy with, Chandi?" "My happiness lies only in the fact that the flower of our sacred love is blossoming... whether it is a daughter or a son... if it is a daughter she will be my Ragini, if it is a son he will be my Sangeet." Diana grew excited with joy. Oh... how wonderful that moment will be... when their love will fill the world with its laughter. Tom appeared just as Bonomali was walking towards the lawn with a tea tray. He came directly to them... Diana and Chandidas... "Hello, Mr. Sengupta... You‟ve become a celebrity now... busy and popular... But this time please give us too a little of your time." They picked up their cups of tea. Diana squirmed at Tom's arrival but Chandidas carried on formally... "How can I be of service?" "We want to spend a few days with you. In complete solitude and where else can one find such an amiable place but in the forests of Madhya Pradesh, where the waterfalls gushing down the mountains will resound with your music and that of my sweetheart." "May I know the reason for this, Mr. Blair... because you have not expressed such a desire in all these years." Tom changed the topic... "That‟s right... that‟s right... but neither had I thought that in all these years the political situation would change so much. You have seen that we have had to wind up our business in Bombay. And meanwhile, I wanted to go to London but could not. "We are simply artistes... emotional and living in the moment. Where do we have any interest in these things." Chandidas said poignantly. "After all, where do you want to go, Tom?" "Panchamadhi... it is a very beautiful place. The Satpura forests are so dense that even the sun and the wind cannot enter... One experiences a peculiar feeling there. I want all three of us to spend a few peaceful days there. You are like a member of the family now." "Thank you, Mr. Blair... I'll think about it and let you know." "Take your time... Holi will be celebrated in March... and the tribals will put up a special dance. I think that will be a suitable day. Your Institute‟s music students will also be busy with their final examinations." "All right... I will give you my final answer next week. So, can I take your leave now?" "Okay... " Tom came out with Diana to leave him to the gate.

***

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 80 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

It was early February... and the weather was bitterly cold. Bonomali used to keep the room warm with a heater... especially Diana's room... Tom had learned from the family doctor that Diana was pregnant. One day he overheard Deena saying to Diana... "Madam... When I was pregnant I used to eat plenty of tamarind... " "So you're pregnant?" Tom asked her directly. "Yes." "You didn‟t mention it? After eight years there will be joy in our lives and I heard of it from someone else." "Not our life, just mine... this child is only mine." Diana said firmly as she pretended to look busy. Tom was left mincing his teeth. In his mind he abused Diana and Chandidas and drowned himself in alcohol. Deena went into the kitchen and prepared some sweet-sour tamarind chutney for Diana to go with some crispy hot kachoris. Diana had donned her coat, pants and muffler and was preparing to go somewhere. It was about six in the evening. George and Deena had planned to watch a film that day. Her two children were looking very sweet in their large furry brown coats. Deena placed the plate of kachoris in front of Diana and said, “Madam, eat some of these before you go.” Diana smiled at Deena. Sometimes nameless relationships become so strong that they dare not be given a name. Deena was everything to her in their unnamed relationship... she began eating the kachoris like an obedient girl. "Wow these are made so well. Have some, Deena." Diana put a piece in her mouth. Paro came running behind her to the car... "Memsahib... don‟t tire yourself. I know you are going to Babumoshai for your rehearsal but come back early.” Paro spoke royally like a grandmother. Diana was enraptured by their love... just as Krishn considered the love of the gopis and his friends as his all. That was why Krishn who was endowed with all the arts, roamed behind them... He followed them so that the dust from their feet would fall on his body and because that dust was no ordinary dust. Every speck of that dust was filled with love. There was no limit to what he did for his devotees. He sold meat with Sadhan the butcher, washed leather with Raidas, made pots with the fair potter, gave haircuts in Sen the barber‟s shop, made Namdev‘s hut, sat with Janabai and ground wheat, stayed in Eknath‘s house as his servant. He carried Draupadi's shoes in his satchel, spent sleepless nights yearning for Rukmani, embraced Sudama and cried so much that... “he did not touch the water kept in the paraat, but instead washed his feet with his tears,” and Vidur‘s wife had nothing to offer him to eat, she had eaten one or two bananas to subside her hunger; only the banana peels were left. He was delighted to eat the banana peels. Diana was fascinated by Lord Krishn. His heart was like an ocean of love and so was Diana‟s. The rehearsal with Chandidas had been going on for a week. Today was the recording... both of them sang a beautiful song... they had decided to record a set of four to five songs continuously, but Chandidas stopped after two songs so that Diana would not get tired... "We will do the remaining ones tomorrow." Nandlal, Satyajit and Munmun too began to insist that the remaining songs be recorded after a couple of days. But Diana's mind was filled with Krishn. Not only were all the songs recorded but she also sang a bhajan... “Braj ke lata pata mohe keeje... ”

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But soon after the recording, Diana's throat felt dry and she began to feel dizzy. There was panic everywhere... someone brought some water and someone fetched some coffee... Chandidas wiped the beads of perspiration from her face with his handkerchief and said, “Even in this biting cold you are drenched in sweat. Why did you have to work so hard? Don‟t you have any concern for your health?” Diana returned home at ten o‟clock in the night with Chandidas and Nandlal... By the time he helped her to the couch, Tom had downed two drinks... he yelled out from where he stood... What‟s happened... what‟s happened to Diana?" "Nothing, she is all right now. She was a little dizzy. We have shown her to the doctor on our way," explained Chandidas. Paro ran and brought some water and pursed her lips in disapproval as she covered Diana in a shawl. Diana understood and patted her back as she said "Sorry." "Now do your realize Chandidas Senguptaji that she needs a change and some rest? Why are you taking so much time to think?" "Where am I taking time...? I‟m coming... There are only one or two recordings remaining, they will be completed this week." "Good... I am glad you have accepted my suggestion." Chandidas and Nandlal left Tom Blair alone, drinking in his dim and wretched corner. As they came out, George and Deena‟s car came and stopped nearby. They had returned from watching the film and upon hearing about Diana‟s health, rushed inside. Deena felt Diana‟s forehead and said, "Madam." "I'm fine, silly. You people worry unnecessarily." "Come on boys, Bunty... Shunty, you must be hungry, dinner is ready." Diana used to call Deena‟s sons “Bunty... Shunty” whereas George had kept one of their names Michael according to his religion and the other Nekjaad according to Deena‟s. Diana was impressed by his large-heartedness... Some people are so generous at heart. It is such people that define humanity. As Chandidas passed the racecourse after leaving Nandlal at his house, he saw Munmun and Satyajit strolling there. So late at night? Munmun should have been at home by now. As he reached them, they were startled... "Munmun... Satyajit... You have not gone home?" "We are going home. Munmun's slipper broke; it took some time to get it repaired." "All right... now you go home Satyajit... I will be with Munmun." "No Dada, I'll come too... Nowadays times are not good, anything can happen at any time." Chandidas could make out that Satyajit‟s concern was entirely for Munmun. And rightly so... the police, revolutionaries and the barren streets of Calcutta at this time, and Munmun‟s company... he went silent. Baba was restless at home... "Why was Munmun so late?" "She was with me, Baba. We had the recording you know.” said Chandidas to ease his concern as Maa lifted her quilt and mumbled, “I tell you... get her married... but neither is your Baba worried and neither does Munmun agree to it. One daughter has already gone... and the second one is in this state.” "Why do you feel sad, Maa...? You should be proud of Gungun that she sacrificed her life for her coutry. I will get Munmun to agree for marriage."

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"No Dada... please don‟t think that it will be that easy. Don‟t give Maa false hopes... after Gungun‟s sacrifice, I have decided to live my life all alone." Munmun said seriously and went inside to change her clothes. Maa took a deep breath and sighed, “O Kaali Maa... What is wrong with this house?" Chandidas sat down at Maa‟s feet and began massaging them. Baba had a drink of water and lay down covering himself with a quilt. After a while, the light in Munmun‟s room turned off. But in the light coming from the street, the reflection of her face stayed motionless on the window pane. A strong wind was blowing outside. Cold and biting. Usually the cold subsides by the end of February but this time every passing day seemed to get colder. Military vehicles were passing by on the street. Someone was playing a film song on a mouth organ... the distant tune seemed close by in the silent night. As the night grew darker, all four of them were surrounded by the strange sounds of the night... three of them awake... one asleep. "Chandi, son... tell me who is it that you love?" "Maa... there is one divine soul... but we are helpless Maa, we cannot be united in a social bond." "Are you afraid of our relatives and society?" Chandidas lowered his eyes, "not for me Maa... I am afraid for her... She is beyond comparison." "Will you not even tell your mother... who gave birth to you?" "Why did you give me birth Maa. That is what I feel like asking... why did I come into this world. I am of no use. I could give neither you nor Baba any happiness. I loved her but could not get her companionship. My life is meaningless." It was the first time Maa had seen tears in Chandidas‟s eyes. She rose up from the bed and hugged him tightly. He voice choked as he said... “I have not done anything for her mother... I remained like a little beggar in front of her. She kept giving... I kept taking... Maa... I cannot live without her." "Have courage Chandi, everything will be fine. Great souls are born to suffer. But the suffering is not theirs, they belong to the world. I am proud of my children and believe that they will never do anything wrong." Maa kept patting Chandidas‟s head late into the night, just like his childhood days when he wouldn‟t sleep until he had heard her lullabies. She used to pat him as she hummed him to sleep... Even today, Candidas‟s eyes became drowsy in Maa‟s lap.

***

It was at the same time that Mumnmun had decided to spend her life alone, that Satyajit gave her his heart. They met the next day in the park as the sun went down and vowed to live and die together. Just as Gungun and Sukant had taken their vow. "Satyajit... I am yours... but our marriage is not possible." Munmun took Satyajit‟s hand in hers. "Munmun... Am I so selfish that when the country is on the brink of change... when flames of sedition are spreading everywhere... that I will think of myself? No Munmun... I took birth in this soil. I owe a debt to this soil. I may not be a revolutionary... but at least I can sacrifice my

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 83 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM happiness. We will make a free world together, without any bonds, and the doors of our house will be open for all. We will give Dada‟s Institute a grand form. Dada will be its principal. We will look after everything else.” "Yes, I want to start a dance class degree," Munmun added joyfully. "That is a very good idea... have you spoken to Dada about it?" "I will... when he is free from his recordings. He was saying that he will be going for a holiday with the Blair family." "Well... Munmun. Please don‟t mind, but Dada‟s love affair with Diana is no secret. Many people are talking about it." "Let them talk. Love and fragrance cannot be hidden. It is no sin to love." "Well, Diana is very beautiful... she does not seem like a Britisher at all." "She has grown her hair long, hasn‟t she?" Munmun laughed. Satyajit lit up a cigarette... letting the matchstick glow for a while... in its flame the lawn seemed like a stage with a dark carpet, to him... on it sat Munmun, singing with a tanpura in her hands... Somehow, scenes from Chandidas‟s drama flashed past his eyes... and then the shouts from people holding flaming torches from behind the stage... "Run... Run... Britishers, leave our country... what is there that you have left in this country? You have looted everything... even our Kohinoor... give it back... our Kohinoor... give it back... " With a soft cry Satyajit dropped the matchstick. Promptly, a small blister erupted on his finger. He put his hand in his pocket hiding it from Munmun‟s view. A British couple sitting on the bench ahead laughed aloud together. Satyajit kicked up a pebble from the gravel beside the lawn and directed a curse towards the Britishers... silent but fiery. Munmun shivered in the cold. They came out on the road and hailed a rickshaw to stop, "Come Munmun, I will leave you first and then go to meet Ghoshal Babu. He would have received the book for me by now... "

***

Ever since Gungun‟s death, Munmun‟s mind had been occupied by a strange feeling. Gungun had been more of a friend than a sister to her. Until she had spoken her mind to her, she was not satisfied. Now who could she speak to... so slowly her mind was meandering away from worldly things? In these circumstances, Satyajit‟s coming into her life was such a storm that it rattled the closed doors and windows of her being. Munmun had one strength and that was that once she had made a decision, no one could change it for her. Her decision to not get married would remain firm even against the wishes of Maa, Baba and Chandidas. Satyajit had welcomed this decision. Satyajit, though of a serious nature, was a passionate and a soft-hearted person. Singing, music, acting were his identity... he had already become a lecturer of history at Calcutta University, while Munmun had specialised in music but was still unemployed even though she had applied for jobs in many places. She just wanted to be a teacher of music. Chandidas had resigned from the school long ago and put all his attention in his Institute and music. He was now a famous artiste of Calcutta and Bombay and, in both cities, his praises and critiques were published in all Hindi, English, Marathi and Bengali newspapers. He had become extremely busy. He was so engrossed in the recordings of his songs and dramas that he would come home at half past one in the morning and leave for work again at ten o‟clock... Maa would be left

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 84 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM asking after him if he would return for the afternoon meal. Maa would often make her plans around Chandidas‟s timings. Chandidas‟s birthday was on the fifth of March and Munmun had decided that this time the birthday would be celebrated with fanfare. She had already gone to the market with Maa and bought everything that was needed. Baba was happy... it had been five years since Gungun had departed. For five years their household had forgotten how to smile, laugh and blossom but now, gradually, they had become used to living without Gungun and for the first time they were welcoming the arrival of happiness with Chandidas‟s birthday. He called out to Maa... "I am thinking that I should also buy a sari for Munmun... it has been a long time since we got her anything." "What is there to ask? You should have bought it. She would have been so happy. In any case, it is Shivratri on the fourth of March. It will be an auspicious day for her to wear it." Baba had stopped thinking of auspicious and inauspicious days. He had developed a belief that the strings of life were in the hand of God. We were just like puppets dancing as he makes us dance. He was happy simply by the fact that their Chandidas had become a great artist and the house was being run comfortably. Earlier there used to be financial constraints. Even now, there was not a lot of money but they were content with whatever there was. Munmun too seemed happy instead of being lost in her own world. She was smiling and humming all the time. At times he would suspect if... but then he would shun the thought... No... Munmun must have some other reason for not getting married... but what? No, no one would ever find out the reason from Munmun... Dard ka kehena cheekh utho, Dil ka takaza vaja nibhao, Sab kuch sehena, chup chup rehena, Kaam hai izzatdaaron ka. But Chandidas had understood Munmun's silence. He knew what was going on between Satyajit and Munmun, what was blossoming in their hearts... Chandidas was himself going through the same phase and knew that when two hearts meet, how troublesome desires arise. How cravings rage as storms. Where does one remain in one‟s senses? All that can be seen is one‟s lover, only one‟s lover... Khair, khoon, khansi, khushi,bair, preet, madhypan. Rahiman dabay na dabe janat sakal jahan. That is what happened that day. Chandidas spotted Munmun and Satyajit at the gate of the cinema talkies where Devika Rani‘s film was being screened after its record breaking success in Calcutta. Munmun looked surprisingly beautiful in her red-bordered black sari. Both of them were holding hands as they went inside. He turned around and made his way back to the road. The deciduous dry winds had scattered yellow leaves which seemed to chase moving cars as they went by and then all of a sudden quietly settle in a heap. When Chandidas returned home at ten o‟clock at night, Munmun was sitting comfortably on the bed combing her long hair. "Munmun, answer in ‗yes‘ or ‗no‘. Do you love Satyajit?" Munmun was taken aback. What kind of a question was Dada asking? Were they thinking that this was the reason for her refusing to get married? "Dada... "

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"Say Munmun... Answer me!" Munmun nodded in consent. "Does he love you too?" Munmun nodded again. "Will you both get married?" This was a difficult question for Munmun... she did not have a proper answer for it. She rose and embraced him, unable to stop her inner impulse... "Dada, help me find a way. I have only been able to come this far... I cannot think of anything beyond this." "You will have to wait Munmun. Time makes its own ways.” Chandidas cupped her face in his palms... “Look here, at me... you will never do anything wrong, I trust you. I only ask that you do nothing that will hurt Maa and Baba. They have been through a lot of pain." Chandidas kissed her forehead and left.

***

Chandidas‟s birthday celebration had been arranged in the cultural precinct of Calcutta, by his own Institute‟s students. Munmun and Satyajit had taken on the role of organisation. A hall had been booked... a caterer had been hired to serve dinner for almost fifty people. The dinner menu had been prepared. The students had prepared splendid songs and performances for the evening... Solo, duets, chorus and qawwali. Diana had sent a message that she would sing a ghazal which she had herself composed. Ghoshal Babu was present with his wife Puku. Deena and George were also there with Diana... Munmun and Satyajit had also scheduled a Kathak dance by Kanika Majumdar and they were going to announce that the Institute would begin conducting dance classes from now on. This was to be a surprise for Chandidas. Great pains had been taken to keep this hidden from him. On the morning of the fifth of March, Maa prepared kheer and went to the temple with Chandidas to seek the blessings of Kaali Ma. While returning, Chandidas went directly to Diana‟s bungalow. Ever since Diana had become pregnant, she was becoming more and more fond of flowers, and today was Chandi‟s birthday. The entire bungalow was filled with the aroma of flowers. A bouquet of red roses was placed on the table, waiting for Chandidas. When Chandidas entered the house he was greeted by a romantic fragrance which relaxed his mind and heart. Diana came forward and embraced him as she handed him the bouquet of flowers, "Happy Birthday Chandi... Remember where all we used to be on this day, in the last few years? Shimla, Malabar Hill, Mahabaleshwar, Khandala, Lonavala and here today... It seems like the six years spent with you... are the treasure of time which has come to a standstill... " "And in this treasure, the flower of our love is blooming... my own child... I am very selfish in this matter... it is all mine... you are its Mayya... Mayya, when will my pigtail grow... " "You mean, you want one with a pigtail." "Exactly like you... your own reflection which is being created by our hands." Suddenly the church bell tolled and along with it, the sweet chimes of the prayer bell that Paro was ringing in the small temple inside the house, as she performed her Aarti. She had been fasting for Shivratri yesterday, and the fast was to be broken after her prayers. She had made rosogollas for her babumoshai. After the Aarti she brought some rosogollas in a glass bowl.

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Feeling shy, she hesitatingly touched Chandidas‟s feet and extended the bowl towards him... ―Mishti rosogolla.‖ "Why don‟t you feed him with your own hands, Paro?" Paro obeyed and dipped her fingers in the syrup, as she picked up a rosogolla and placed it in Chandidas‟s mouth and another in Diana‟s. She shivered like a leaf when her mistress too picked up a rosogolla and placed it in Paro‟s mouth... “I have been blessed...” and leaving the bowl of rosogollas there, she ran away embarrassed.

***

In the midst of the echoes of Diana‟s ghazal, Kanika Majumdar‟s dance performance and the songs presented by the students, an overwhelmed Chandidas declared that after his return from Panchamadhi he would definitely commence dance classes at the Institute. And the organisers would be Satyajit and Munmun. The thunderous applause that followed was evidence that everyone wanted it to be so. Numerous names were given to Munmun on slips of paper... "We will also learn dancing... we will also... hopefully there will be enough seats and we won‟t miss out." Kanika Majumdar was a thirty-five to forty year old lady and had recently returned from abroad after creating a frenzy of excitement with her dance performances there, and she wished to spread her art form far and wide, so she promptly agreed to join Chandidas‟s Institute. Everyone joined in for a group dance... Satyajit played a gramophone record. The party went on till late at night. Diana's car dropped Chandidas‟s family to their house.When the second car carrying Deena and Diana moved ahead, Chandidas and Nandlal were engrossed in talking at the gate near the road. Behind the small bridge next to the gate there were some bushes. A sudden strong gust of wind arose and the yellow moon appeared behind the bushes. Diana laid her head back and closed her eyes. The next week Chandidas left for Panchamadhi with Diana and Tom Blair. While going he said to Munmun, “Take care of Maa and Baba... I'll be back soon." With two cars, one jeep, and heavy arrangements, Tom had brought them to visit Panchamadhi. There were two luxury rooms in the guest house and two servants were at their beck and call to serve them. Nature had spread its beauty openly in Panchamadhi. The deep valleys that descended thousands of feet below the Satpura hills were magnificent, as if a new world was being revealed by rubbing a magic lamp. Caves of dreams emerged from the background… beautiful valleys, flowers bloomed on the branches of trees, colourful, chirping birds... streams appeared spontaneously. The sweet sound of waterfalls filled the valleys with their rhythm. Tom felt rejuvenated. He had become gracious and cheerful and very polite with Diana and Chandidas. The festival of Holi was two days away and tonight there was to be a tribal dance performance on the green lawns of the guest house. Panchamadhi was colder that Calcutta... in any case in this hilly town nestled between dense forests there were so many waterfalls that it was cold even in summer. A bonfire had been lit in the middle of the lawn and its flames illuminated the lawn with colours. The Mahua trees blossom with flowers and fruit to celebrate the arrival of Holi. It is the same Mahua that the tribals use to make toddy and drink it to express their happiness during Holi. The fragrance of the Mahua fruit made the air intoxicating. It is as if the atmosphere becomes intoxicated by the fragrance of the Mahua flowers. The tribal dancers

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 87 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM were drinking and dancing to the beat of their drums. Tom, Diana and Chandidas were to be seated in chairs in the front. There were a few other British tourists who had come with them to visit Panchamadhi. They all had glasses of whiskey in their hands and there was barbecued meat covered in spices in front. Amidst the dark skinned, half-naked tribal women, adorned with ornamental garlands and wild flowers in their long tresses, Tom was enthralled as he ogled at the firm breasts hidden in their blouses and sipped his drink with the other tourists. "Great... isn‟t it Chandidas Senguptaji... are you watching this amazing dance?" "This Rye dance is performed by the tribals on special days and festivals. The real fun will start now because the dance has picked up its tempo." Tom had thought that he had opened up a whole new world to Chandidas. But here, he already seemed to know everything. The dance had picked up speed and the young men and women were moving around in a large circle, holding each other by the waist. Their rapid steps, scattering the light from the flames, were creating a strange ambience. The drums began beating faster; the pitch of the music too rose higher and after reaching a crescendo, slowed down suddenly. The night was beginning to grow weary and dew drops forming in the chilly breeze settled on the lawn. Gradually, the dance slowed down to a halt. Tom dropped himself on a chair, in a drunken stupor. The tribal chief gave Chandidas and Diana a concoction made of boiled and churned milk... an old woman from the tribe had brought some popped corn in a bamboo basket. For Diana these rustic rituals were priceless. This show of love was her treasure. Bidding goodbye to the tribals, Diana and Chandidas had the servants help Tom to his bed, and after a tiring day and such a late night they went to their rooms and lay down. Sleep came easily. They were constantly on the move for four days. After breakfast in the morning they would mount their horses and descend into the valleys. The two servants and two tribal boys would follow with their food, rugs and other provisions laden on donkeys. Diana seemed lost in the enchanting forest. Tom would narrate stories of the exploits of adventurous Britishers... “Do you know Chandidas Senguptaji, it was the British Captain, J. Forsythe who discovered Panchamadhi. Before that no one knew that there was such an exotic valley in the forests of Madhya Pradesh." Diana and Chandidas would remain silent in response to these stories. It was late afternoon. The rays of a sun restless to set, were painting the valleys in a golden hue. Tom sent off the servants and tribal boys to the guest house to prepare for dinner. The three of them were now alone and all around them was the desolate jungle. The sound of leaves rustling in the wind made them shudder. The tall trees bristled with the noisy birds and screeching monkeys. Diana was tired of roaming around all day but Tom was in no mood to head back. Chandidas could see Diana‟s exhaustion on her face... “You‟re tired, aren‟t you?” “Yes... we‟re going back to the guest house, aren‟t we?” The reply came from Tom... “Wait a moment Sir... we still have to see „the most beautiful valley‟ in this place.” Chandidas poured a glass of water from a thermos flask and gave it to Diana, massaging her feet when Tom was not looking. Diana felt some relief. The horses began moving towards the so called beautiful valley. Passing through rows of eucalyptus and pine trees which gave the dense jungle its nostalgic beauty, they came to a stop next to a fearsome five hundred feet deep valley. Tom stretched out his hand and helped Diana dismount as they stepped momentarily on the fine carpet of pine leaves. Tom announced, "This is that beautiful valley... ah... amazingly beautiful. In 1887, a British Major, Mr. Handy, had

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 88 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM come here on a hunting trip. Suddenly, his horse slipped and he fell to his death in the valley. His body was not found even after a search that lasted several days. Since then this valley has been called „Handy Kho.‘ Diana and Chandidas looked down at a distant waterfall hundreds of feet deep in the formidable valley... ―Aiee coole aami, oiee koole toomi... majhkhaane nodi oee boye chole jaye.‖ Chandidas glanced at Diana‟s face reflecting the pale yellow rays of the setting sun. As if the bonfire from the tribal dance was still smouldering... keeping its pale orange light alive... Chandidas felt an urge to embrace Diana in his arms and kiss the flames. Diana saw the passion in his eyes... the entire forest was glowing in the radiance of his affection... the fluttering of birds... love... the song of love chanted in her mind... Diana felt the warmth of his passion spreading within her... like the moonlight spreads itself on the waves of the Yamuna... colour, brilliance and music... my Kisna... Nandlala, my Murari, Banke Bihari... my Kanha... Suddenly Tom, who was standing a little behind them, unslung his gun from his shoulder and Bang... Bang... Bang. Like a falling tree, Chandidas dropped into Handi Kho, lost forever. Diana‟s eyes were left wide open... “Chandiiiiii... ” The endless echo of Diana‟s heart-rending scream blended with the fluttering of birds in the dense forest kept pouring molten lead in Tom‟s ears. Diana had fallen down unconscious... on the patch of grass where drops of blood from Chandidas‟s bullet-ridden back had splattered... there was no one else nearby. Seeing the success of his plan, after years of seething slowly, Tom let out a maniacal laugh... "You had made my life miserable, Chandidas... but alas! I cannot send Diana to you... even knowing that your illegitimate child is in her womb... Good bye Chandidas... Goodbye." He snatched a quarter bottle of whiskey from the leather bag hanging from his horse‟s neck and gulped it down in one breath. Then his attention turned to Diana. She was still unconscious. Tom lifted her up, mounted her on the horse and somehow returned to the guest house... When the servants saw their Madam unconscious, they panicked. The local physician was called. Tom said - "Our companion Chandidas fell into the valley, she has been unconscious since then." The physician grated some roots on a stone and applied the paste on Diana‟s feet, palms and forehead... with the juice of another root, he filled her navel... after about half an hour, Diana regained consciousness but fell back again as she called out to Chandidas. Tom sat alone on a chair staring at Diana‟s unconscious body. Darkness had swallowed the jungle completely. The stormy wind made the sound of giggling voices as it swept through the dense, dark forest as if it were teasing Tom. He felt as if Chandidas was coming towards him, laughing. Tom was downing drink after drink but sleep was miles away from him. Perhaps it would remain elusive... because he had murdered love itself... and hatred does not live for long. He would have to relive the events of the bloody night all his life. The sounds of his own footsteps would fill him with dread... he would forget how to live and every minute... every moment... he would crave desperately for peace. "No... I have wealth... Diana‟s wealth of millions... I will settle down with her wealth." But his mind... On which the image of Chandidas‟s blood-soaked body falling into the valley was branded as if by hot metal bars, that mind. That, his sanity... was not ready to accept. Wealth gives worldly comforts but no peace, no contentment... Yes... he had been served the curse of Diana and Chandidas‟s love. He would never be able to rest in peace.

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Tom kept on drinking till he passed out. The window panes rattled in the howling wind through the night.

***

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 90 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

6 Tom returned to Calcutta with Diana in a terrible state of shock. The news of Chandidas‟s death in an accident, spread like wildfire. In disbelief, Nandlal, Satyajit, Dave and all the Institute‟s students rushed to Tom‟s bungalow, wondering when and how this incident happened. Where was Chandidas‟s body? There was panic in Chandidas‟s house. Maa was busy in the kitchen at that time. As she heard the news, she dropped the pot of lentils and the hot daal splashed onto her feet. Munmun ran towards her, "Maa... what have you done Maa?" And crying bitterly she hugged Maa‟s body as she fainted. There was not a single tear in Baba's eyes. He was still as a wooden statue. Nandlal and Satyajit came directly from Tom‟s house to take care of Baba. The next morning‟s newspapers of Calcutta carried Chandidas‟s picture and the news of his death. Condolence meetings were organised. The Calcutta intellectual class had been shaken by the incident because Chandidas was not only one of the great artistes among them but he was also truly humane and shared the pain and sorrows of the suffering people, and was always willing to help them. After a condolence meeting, the Institute‟s students decided to go to Panchamadhi and find out why Chandidas‟s body had not been found. Diana was in the hospital... neither eating nor drinking anything, just staring blankly at the ceiling with tears flowing from her eyes. Paro and Deena sat next to her... Bonomali and Durgadas stood nearby with their hands folded. Everybody was crying uncontrollably. Paro cried as she saw Diana‟s state and even more for her Babumoshai. But all this meant nothing to Tom. He had done what he had to do. Now he was serene... light and relaxed... as if a huge weight had been lifted off his head. He did however make his attendance at the hospital, morning and evening, to ask the doctors by when Diana would be in condition to be taken home?" "Nothing can be said now, Mr. Blair. She is in deep shock. Her blood pressure is also not normal. We need to be watchful for a few days." At times Paro would place her palms on Diana‟s eyes, "Sleep for some time, Memsahib... like this you will not get well." "Who wants to get well?" Diana uttered her first words in many days. Paro hugged her in joy. Diana embraced her tightly... " My Chandi has gone, Paro... your Babumoshai... will never be with us." "Memsahib... Babumoshai... " "Yes Paro... Now he will never be with us... You tell me Paro, how can I remain alive?" "You have to live Memsahib, for the coming baby." No one had noticed Deena enter the room. Seeing her, Diana spread out her arms. Deena ran and hugged Diana, "Memsahib... You will have to live, for the baby, for all of us... this is where a person comes and becomes helpless. Death is not a choice. Suppressing the mind remains the only way to live. Carrying one‟s imagination and breath... " Diana felt a sudden rush of blood in her lifeless body when she felt the depth of Deena‟s words. "You are right, Deena... I will have to carry my breath. Now this is my destiny. I do not have anyone in this world... I was an orphan, now I am lonely too... confined to myself... " and Diana wept, Deena too could not stop her tears... " We are all with you, Memsahib."

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 91 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

"Memsahib... from Babumoshai's house... " Bonomaali left his sentence incomplete. Diana called out sharply, “Baba... Munmun..." and her cries were engulfed in sobs. Baba sat down on the chair next to her. Munmun hugged her and sobbed silently. When the tide had passed, Munmun and Paro helped Diana sit up on the bed. Diana looked at Baba who seemed to have aged considerably. Chandidas was his only son... the support for his old age... Tom had destroyed his home. She felt that if it had not been for her, Baba would not have had to see this day. She felt like falling at Baba‟s feet... "Forgive me Baba. You have lost Chandi because of me... You are great to have given birth to a saint like Chandi. Curse Tom, Baba. Curse him to live a lonesome, solitary life, without any love. Let him be without a child forever. Never find peace." "My daughter... have you become so ill? You did not have any patience? Look at me, I am alive without Chandi, am I not?" Baba looked at Diana's listless, pale face down and lowered his eyes to the floor. Diana looked at Baba who, in these eight days, had become more helpless, broken and dishevelled. Her heart went out to him and she felt that she would lose consciousness but she controlled herself. When the father has had the courage to come and meet her, then why was she breaking down. By breaking down she was only causing more pain to Chandi‟s soul. She stopped crying and wiped her tears. Munmun brought her a glass of water.” "Didi... " "Diana was taken aback. Munmun had called her Didi for the first time... For a moment she forgot that she was Tom‟s wife. She felt as if she was a member of this family, all of them full of immense love." "Didi... We went to Panchamadhi... Handy Kho... But we could not see any place where there could have been an accident... No one can bend and look down into such a deep valley without falling over." What could Diana say? Tom had silenced her. How cleanly Tom had declared this murder as an accident. Except for Diana, who else was there at Handy Kho, who could know what really happened. To cover up the crime he had played a great drama of trying to find Chandidas. He had sent out a dozen forest officials to do the job. But was it simple to get down a valley, thousands of feet deep? Tom knew that neither would anyone go down nor would Chandidas‟s bullet-ridden body be found. The forest officials had advised Tom to ask the tribals for help but he dismissed it... "The tribals will also find nothing... there are so many animals, will the body still be there now?" “I am so surprised that the body has not been found... how can that be possible?" Deena supported Munmun.” “I just don‟t understand. In fact, I feel as if Dada has not gone at all... that he will come back anytime.” Now how could Diana make them believe that her own husband was the murderer. The sinner whose wife she was ashamed to be. She wanted the earth to open up and swallow her... like Sita... Perhaps this has happened with women for centuries. When God created woman, her fate was tied to endless suffering. Baba was eager to leave. He pressed his palms on his knees and said, “Our whole lives, we will have to live with the thought that we could not even see him in his last moments. My Chandi has been deprived of his last rites. I do not know for which life‟s sins we are being punished.” "Come on Baba... your blood pressure will go up again. Now there is no choice other than to be patient."

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 92 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

Diana watched Baba and Munmun depart. She sobbed silently in her breath. And turned her eyes towards the door…

***

Diana had returned home. Yet, sometimes she would not feel well, even run a fever, but staying in the hospital itself was proving to be harmful for Diana. At home, she would feel better with her books, Blossom and her music. Porgi and Bess spent most of their time playing with Deena‟s boys or tied to the gate. They had grown up into ferocious dogs. The air was bristling amidst the Neem and Peepal trees. The colour of Holi was all over the bright red buds of the Palasha tree. Diana's heart had been orphaned. But she had to stabilise herself for Chandi‟s memory which was growing in her womb and try to ensure that even the shadow of Tom‟s ruthlessness would never fall on it. Always alert and wary of this, Diana would sometimes wake up in a sweat at night. She would imagine Chandi‟s bleeding body lying in a dark, deserted cove. Chandi‟s eyes seemed to be full of love for her and in them was hidden a fountain, eager to flow but with nowhere to go. There were deafening sounds of gunfire all around. Smoke from spent bullets. Where do ruthless hands have enough sense to erase their false belief that they can destroy unbounded love... larger than the whole universe? Love is God and no one can erase God. God is manifested in every particle of the Earth. In the blooming of flowers, in the flow of rivers, in the tides of the seas, in the buzzing of bees, in the dance of butterflies, in the thunder of clouds and in the force of the breeze, there is God who cannot be destroyed by any demonic force. No matter how many evil spells it may have cast, how many death rituals it may have performed. She was alerted by the sound of the gate opening. She felt that Chandidas had come... It had often happened. The sound of Chandidas‟s footsteps had been disturbing her since evening. It was Durgadas, returning from the bazaar. He rang the bell to get Paro to come and carry the bags in. Blossom woke up and came purring to her lap. Now even this sound could not break the deadly silence in the villa. Whenever deranged winds come, they shake off and sweep along the dry leaves and drooping flowers with them. Only silence survives… and the bare branches... She wanted to inform the police that Tom had murdered Chandidas, but what would the outcome be? In trying to get the truth out of Tom, it could defile Diana and Chandidas‟s love. She too would have mud slung on her. Tom was a seasoned player... Just like he had become close to her father so that she would not say no to marrying him... all to get at her wealth... would he leave any stone unturned to discredit her? What then could Diana do? Spend her life with a murderer... be his wife and be in his arms at night? No, to do so would be to betray Chandidas, to betray herself. She belonged only to Chandidas and would remain his until her last breath... however near that last breath may be. Until the remembrance of their love takes birth in this world... and after that there would be only she and Chandi... you are here... you are there also... this earth is yours and the sky too... I am there in your soul... whatever I am today is a reflection of your life. Diana was lost in the memories of her Chandi. She was unaware of when the day turned into dusk and when the night stretched its legs towards the Earth.

***

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 93 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

The moon, hidden behind the Maolasiri and Champa tree branches, appeared pale and languid and seemed to be dead. The Champa flowers were scattered, spreading their fragrance. In the yellow light, the shadows of the trees were stretched out on the lawn. There was a time when Chandidas‟s shadow danced with hers, playing in the darkness. The moon did not look as pale then. In its bright moonlight, the shadows looked like moving pictures. It is funny how we never catch the shadows we chase all our lives even though they are always next to us... "You're with me Chandi. Like my shadow, I know there is great strength in the shadows, it never leaves a person alone, never lets him die." Suddenly, Diana felt Tom‟s grip around her waist. She thrashed out like a fish out of water... "Leave me Tom... Your hands are soaked with blood." "What is this childishness Diana... Have you gone mad? Are you mourning for a slave?" "Slaves are human beings too and don‟t forget Tom, that you too are a slave of the East India Company... the only difference is that you belong to the same breed, that of your owners.” Diana walked up to the bed and lifted her pillow... “What? You won‟t sleep here?" “No... And never again. You may have succeeded in the conspiracy that you hatched against Chandidas and me but you lost the day Chandidas died. You have lost the stakes of life... you‟ve lost me.” And Diana wept... crying timidly... her mind screaming in anguish as the realisation set in that what has been lost will never come back... She would never be able to see Chandi again. Tom had finished everything... Now she was alone. How would her cumbersome life travel on the silent streets ahead? How would she be able to breathe without her Chandi. She came out of the room weeping silently. In the music room, she picked up the tanpura and sat down on the carpet as she strummed a tune. This was the only way left to be in union with Chandidas. Only in music was Chandidas‟s soul ever-present... slowly the mellow waves of her strumming began to break the gloomy silence. Suddenly, rolled up in a ball on a sofa down the hall, Blossom sat up alert. She yawned and stretched before following Diana‟s sad notes to the music room and began scratching at the the tanpura strings. The melody was broken. The words of the song scattered. Diana stopped singing and looked at Blossom... Blossom jumped up on her shoulder and licked her cheek. A sad smile spread on Diana‟s dry lips. She gently caught hold of Blossom... how was she to know that one day this mute animal would become a companion in her melancholy. It understood her pain, her shock... that‟s why... that‟s why... And there was Tom... her husband... Relying on whom, she had left London for a foreign land, thinking that Tom would always be with her... her life partner... but Tom had spread thorns on the path of life. He was only a flesh lover... To survive the night he needed roasted meat, both cooked and alive. No wonder, even in her illness after Chandidas‟s murder, he had touched her, touched her with lust... Oh! Diana could not sleep all night. By morning she had a slight fever. It happened every day, ever since she had returned from the hospital, the fever had never left her. She was dissolving from within, she had lost the will to live. But she now had to fulfill her duty and that was the only thing which filled her every day with enough energy to survive. She could not even hate Tom. Her boundless love for Chandidas did not permit her to hate such a devil. And where was Tom in her life? Because Chandidas hadn‟t left her life and Tom had never enterd her life. She called out to Bonomali... “Bonomali, ask the driver to take out the car. I will go to Chandidas‟s house.” "Get well first, Memsahib. Let it be for now."

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 94 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

Diana smiled at his request and began getting ready. Bonomali was helpless in front of his memsahib‟s persistence. When the car stopped outside Chandidas‟s house, a great commotion spread. Children stopped playing games on the road stood aside. Faces peeped out of the windows of neighbouring houses. In a lower middle class area, a rich English lady's arrival was a subject of great surprise for everyone. She had come even during Gungun‟s time but then things were different. Diana could not see anything in her grief and passion. Bonomali helped her out of the car and led her to a dark, dank room. The room‟s floor was studded with large square stones. The sides and corners of the stones were wet and it seemed as if the floor had been thoroughly washed and cleaned that day. It was cold in the room. The plaster on the walls was peeling off and dust from the lime lay scattered everywhere. Termites had infested the wood frames in the sitting area and bored countless holes in them. There was one wooden cot on which lay a mattress and a few rustic pillows. A harmonium lay on a table in the corner next to a tanpura resting against the wall. Baba entered pushing aside a curtain made from an old saree... “Come Beti.” Maa followed behind him, clad in a Bengali saree, along with Munmun. Diana could not stop herself. She hugged her and wept. Chandi's mother too found a support and collapsed against it... “I had only one son, Kaali Maa took him away. For whom shall I live now? How shall I live?" Diana wanted to say... Chandi‟s remembrance is living in my womb, would you not like to live for it? The air was burdensome. In the silence, there were no words from anyone for a long time but their eyes were moist with tears, some holding them back, some shedding them quietly. A storm of questions had filled the dinghy room. “How had this accident happened... at least there should be something believable?” Diana saw a portrait of Chandidas ahead, with a garland of roses and a burning lamp in front of it. Smoke from incense sticks seemed to have become still in the room. From his portrait, Chandidas was looking at Diana, the laughter from his flashing smile lit up Diana‟s mind. “He was not at all ambitious. Only music lived in his mind. He would say, music is my soul, my love, my life. Music has brought invaluable achievements in my life.” Diana lowered her eyes. “He would be easily provoked by talk of marriage. He used to say, don‟t tie me up in the bonds of marriage... I will not be able to live up to it.” Maa cut short Baba‟s words and said in Bengali, “Arre Baba you don‟t know anything.” Then she turned towards Diana and said, “He had fallen in love with someone. Very beautiful... very talented... she was... even then there was something, I don‟t know what. He said that he could not marry her. We are not made for marriage.” Diana's body filled up with excitement. In the sad atmosphere, her cheeks blazed, her ears turned warm. She felt that by some miracle she should be able to reach and draw Chandi out from the portrait and say to Maa, Baba... “It is me who is Chandi‟s Radhika... love‟s eternal form... everything else is illusion. Our love for each other is the only truth.” “That‟s enough Maa... Will you tell Didi all about Dada today itself...?” Maa‟s eyes welled up with tears as she covered them with the end of her saree. “Didi, how is your health?" "Don‟t worry about me Munmun... take care of Maa and Baba. Take care of yourself... " "We have lost everything in life‟s mela, Didi.”

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 95 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

Munmun too began to sob now... Diana‟s mind was distraught... she was beginning to feel guilty. Had she not met Chandidas, his family would not have seen this day. An elderly woman brought some tea from inside. Maa went inside to wash her face... Baba began pouring some oil in the lamp in front of Chandidas‟s portrait... Life had turned full circle. Baba was doing what Chandidas should have been doing... As Munmun gave her the cup of tea, her hand touched Diana‟s... “Arre, you have a high fever, Didi.” Everyone was taken aback. No one had noticed until now, but Diana‟s red eyes, pale face and languid, dry lips seemed to say everything. Baba went inside quickly and brought a bottle of homeopathic medicine, “This medicine is like magic.” He took out four pills from the bottle and asked Diana to open her mouth. He gave her the dose and asked Bonomali to keep repeating it every four hours. As she departed with tears in her eyes, she left behind a large part of herself... Her Chandi‟s home... her pain... her cries... even her loneliness... Yes, now she was not alone, now there was a whole family with her... Maa, Baba, and Munmun. She wished she could have known this while Chandi was there. And, with Paro‟s help, when she tried climbing the four stairs that went from the porch to the hall of Tom Blair‟s villa, her legs wobbled... she felt a huge burden in her mind. So far she had been thinking that Tom had murdered only Chandidas but now it seemed as if he had killed three other people... his hands were bloodied with the murder of Maa, Baba and Diana herself. He had turned out to be a vicious killer... successful in his mission. Now how was Diana to carry her remaining breaths? She was broken, each part of her was dead. Paro helped her lie down on the bed and covered her with a blanket. The fever had still not come down and her eyes were hurting from lack of sleep and constant rubbing. She felt a new burden on her eyelids as she shut them. After a while, Paro brought some cotton soaked in rose water and placed it on her eyelids as she massaged her hands and feet hoping her memsahib would be able to sleep for some time. Blossom curled up quietly next to Diana.

***

It took about a week for the fever to subside. Diana had become very weak. Her face was pale. Her eyes always seemed to be asking... Why did Tom do this? Why did he so mercilessly deny Diana from getting from someone else what he could not provide himself? When she had no objection to Tom‟s illicit relationships, then why did he object to hers? Because he was a man? Was it society that had given him the freedom to do whatever he wanted? But even the great philosophers and visionaries of society had stressed on the need to keep women within their limits. Diana had read Balzac who had spoken of women being the property of men... she was a movable property which a man could carry with him wherever he wanted. Why had women being accepting this harsh enslavement? Why had this concept, that men were superior to women, taken root in her mind? "Will you reject it? Will you free yourself from this bondage? Diana had asked herself... yes, she wanted to be free but Tom would not let her go. Since the beginning of civilization, men had made a superior place for themselves in society, on the strength of their power. With this power, they dominate women. All the religions, social values, traditions and lifestyles had been made to conform to his own convenience, not that of women. Women had only as much freedom as men wanted to give them. Tom too would give her only that much freedom as he wanted to. He would definitely not give her a divorce. He didn‟t want Diana, he wanted her wealth. After her father‟s

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 96 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM death, Diana had lost interest in her wealth. For a long time, her mother had managed the family business but had died suddenly of brain heamorrhage... and Diana‟s remaining attachment had dwindled... she was alone in the world. Tom‟s presence or absence was immaterial to her. The heiress of millions... Diana. Love had found a home in her heart. And for one whose heart is full of love, wealth is but a word. “You have destroyed Chandidas‟s body, Tom... not his love. Your impure hands can never reach his love.” How could she spend her life with this evil killer? She belonged to a respectable family. She had lived a life of nobility in London... had earned respect and dignity. She had mixed in high society... spent many years in luxury. If she took any extreme step against Tom, he would discredit her publicly. He would even wipe out the symbol of love that was now in her womb. This was where Diana would always lose her battle. It was this motherly instinct, the desire to be a mother, love for her child, that forced women to bow before every act of exploitation. Ever since Diana had fallen pregnant, she had been experiencing a kind of divine feeling. Inside her, a body was taking shape, her heartbeats in tune with those of her baby. It seemed as if God had taken abode in her body. Now she was a complete woman. She had achieved the fullness of her female birth. Her routine, her thinking, her exuberance, her joy... she had become alert to every feeling. Now she thought about her nature, her faith, wisdom, passion, ethics, and would put aside anything that seemed repulsive so that the little life that was inside her would be clean, defect-free and loving when it entered the world. Now she had only two things on her mind; her motherhood and her duty. Gradually Diana regained her health. The feeling of motherhood brought a glow to her face. Blossom kept her entertained. Now she began visiting Chandidas‟s house every day with Bonomali. After her fever subsided and she was strong enough, when she visited Chandidas‟s house for the first time, she noticed the nearby houses and children playing Gilli-Danda and marbles on the street. In London, she had heard that India was like a colourful mustard field where yoked oxen roamed and peopled wearing colourful headgear danced the Bhangra. Where there were temples of gods and goddesses at every step where devotees absorbed in prayer sat with their heads bowed. India was that road, that signpost, that crossroad where mahouts set out astride their elephants in finery with great fanfare... Drums, dancing, bells and the frolicking breeze dancing to the tune amongst swaying trees. India was that shrine where food was cooked in such huge pots that onlookers were served by the bucket-load... when Prasad was made in the Gurudwaras, no one would be left hungry. Inside magnificent havelis, in cottages, bungalows, such delicious food was cooked, rumali rotis thinner than a handkerchief and varieties of kebabs, that people were left licking their fingers. The streets were washed day and night for the brave English sahibs and their ladies to take their dogs out for a walk. Scented water was sprinkled outside the mansions of Nawabs... bringing the breeze to a standstill in the fragrance... India was the treasure chest of philosophical thoughts, she connected all the mysteries of the sky to spirituality and created a new world; she gave the assurance that seeing this reality even once amounted to seeing God. India was Kabir, India was Tulsi, Meera Bai, Surdas, she was Rahim, Raidas, Sant Tukaram, Sant Gyaneshwar. Sant Gyaneshwar was known to have been so immersed in devotion that he interacted directly with God. On the day of devshayani Ekadashi, when Lord Vishnu along with his escort Lakshmi goes to ksheersagar for four months of rest, Sant Gyaneshwar would come to meet him at his temple in Pandharpur. When Sant Gyaneshwar passed away, Lord Vishnu himself came down to his tomb in Alandi. Amazing…

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 97 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

But this face of India... Diana was unaware of this face of India where there were innumerable houses with plaster peeling off their walls. There were public wells and hand pumps. There were neither playgrounds nor parks for children to play in. They played on the streets and often injured by passing vehicles. Women bought vegetables from roadside markets where wares were kept in sacks. Many homes had banana trees outside where mosquitoes gathered and fish floated in muddy puddles full of stagnant water. Daina reached Chandidas‟s home with a heavy heart. Seeing her, Munmun ran up and embraced her, “How are you didi, how thin you have become!” Maa and Baba came from inside. Diana‟s eyes immediately sensed the tension in the air. Lamps were still lit in front of Chandidas‟s portrait. The still smoke of incense lingered in the air, almost as if by habit. "Forgive me daughter... I could not come and see you in your illness. Look at your silly mother... She does not believe that Chandi in no longer in this world. She says he will come back one day.” Baba sat down beside Diana. As Maa left the room, Munmun whispered... “Maa would have believed it if Dada‟s body had been brought home... but it is our bad luck... we could not perform his last rites in the Ganges, how then can she believe it?” Diana's heart wept. She too had seen Chandi falling to his death into the valley... She too had died then. Diana‟s soul had become one with Chandi‟s. Perhaps this is called death. This was indeed a rebirth for Diana. Chandi had inspired her to give birth to his child and look after his home. Diana‟s warm-heartedness, love and affection had found a place for her in Chandidas‟s home. She would sit cross-legged on the floor with Munmun, Maa and Baba and often share their afternoon meal with them. Fish curry and rice... or vegetables and bananas and sweet sandesh that melted in her mouth. Munmun taught her how to wrap a saree so that she would feel comfortable in her pregnancy. She was aware of the financial situation in Chandidas‟s home but did not want to do anything suddenly... so that Maa and Baba wouldn‟t feel upset... though she had made up her mind on what she would do. At the moment her attention was on her baby. Her library was full of books on love and spiritualism. She was highly impressed by Indian authors. Tagore‘s writings had completely enamoured her. She would often visit Shantiniketan. Sometimes, Munmun or Baba would accompany her... sometimes she would go alone. Loneliness had now become her companion. Only British families from neighbouring bungalows would ask her out to the exclusive British dancing club. She did go a few times but did not enjoy the noisy atmosphere. Rich Englishwomen dancing in the ballrooms flirted with other men and considered it as a mark of high society culture. Such a world, immersed in playing cards, Rummy, carrom and alcohol did not attract Diana. It was Rabindranath Tagore's birthday. She had set out for Shantiniketan with Munmun and her servant Bonomali. She was thrilled at the prospect of meeting her beloved author for the first time. She wanted to see if the real person was like the caricature of Tagore‟s personality that she had created in her mind after reading his poems and novels. Set out near the sea, overlooking the horizon, at Shantiniketan there was a large crowd of not only Tagore‟s students but also Calcutta‟s rich and famous. Diana too sat down there with Munmun. Bonomali waited outside. He was not an ignorant servant but was a knowledgeable musician and singer and read books in Bengali. How could Diana forget that it was he who had introduced her to Chandidas. And how could he dare to sit next to his memsahib, so he stood outside. A few students were distributing

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 98 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM copies of the birthday programme. A dark girl came and stopped near her... “Madam, do you understand Bangla?” When Diana replied in Bengali, she gave her a copy of the programme. Munmun began reading her programme but Diana waited eagerly for Tagore. Night had fallen and Sangeet Kala Bhavan‘s students were performing an act of Chandalika, one of Tagore‟s music dramas. They showed their full range of skills in the performance. Every small act of theirs charmed the audience. It was beautiful. The lights to the left had been turned off. The central part of the porch had been lit and as if the sun had risen in the darkness, a bespectacled Tagore, dressed in a black robe with a slightly bent back, approached the microphone. Diana looked at him mesmerised. Her beloved writer, author of Gitanjali, was standing in front of her. Why did she never feel like that about British writers and poets... when she read the poems of William Blake, Dunne, and Gray? Almost as if he had read Diana‟s thoughts, Tagore began the same speech of which copies had been distributed. His speech was so vibrant, so powerful that there was silence even after he had finished, not a clap, no noise. The audience was silent, deep in thought. Tagore left the dais. The porch lights turned off. Diana and Munmun came outside. In the brilliantly colourful evening, only Tagore‟s image remained etched in the mind, each word of his speech echoed in the heart. They walked silently along the green fields and reached a pond that was called ‗Haathi Pukur‘. An elephant from the Bolpur forest used to come there to drink water every day. When it died, Tagore had named the pond Haathi Pukur. Tagore was called great because he respected not only humans, but also animals. They sat down on a green mound of grass at the edge of Haathi Pukur... even amidst the numerous students and teachers, Shantiniketan‘s atmosphere was one of pleasant peace. In the solitude, the lonely moon seemed to have descended in the calm waters of the pond. Diana confided in Munmun that she was pregnant with Chandidas‟s child. They had been in love with each other. "I know didi. Dada did not hide anything from me. He had said that the Radhe that he used to call out to day and night was you." Diana was surprised... "So does everyone at home know?" "No, but Baba seems to know. He is concerned about you." "Oh!” A wave arose in Diana‟s mind. As the moon played hide-and-seek behind its dense trees, moonlight suddenly appeared. Diana held Munmun‟s hand as they walked on the path under tall mango trees. The classrooms under the open sky looked like meadows of grass at this time of night. There was a blanket of Gulmohar and Amaltas flowers on the grass. How amazing these classrooms would be in daylight. In the shade of Gulmohar, Amaltas and Mango trees, students learning their subject would have looked like ascetics. Diana closed her eyes as she imagined the scene. She had experienced these feelings several times during the day at Shantiniketan but at this time... Though she was aware that Munmun knew everything about her... Diana began recollecting the time when she had come before Munmun as Mrs. Blair. But now? “Are you upset, Munmun?” Diana asked hesitatingly. “With what... Dada‟s relationship with you?” Munmun stopped for a moment... “Didi... If I had had the chance... when Dada was alive, I tell you the truth I would have been the most fortunate girl in the world to have you as my Dada‟s partner.

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 99 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

Birds fluttered in the trees... as a long-tailed peacock flew from one branch to another. A group of students passed by merrily. “Shall we go?” Diana, steeped in pleasure, pressed Munmun‟s hand. Munmun kissed Diana‟s face... "I'm happy, very happy." Then placing her hand on Diana‟s stomach, she said, “By when will I become an aunt?” The jeep raced along the road to Calcutta.

***

It was difficult for Diana to forget the tragedy that had struck Chandidas but gradually she learned to live with it. She would refresh the music she had learned from Chandidas every morning. If she ever erred, Chandidas would correct her. Yes, this strange truth was beginning to come alive to her. Sometimes she would talk to Chandidas in silence and she would find that her questions would be answered. It was the wonderful reality of this country where a man remains alive even after death, purely by desires. Chandi had settled deep within Diana... “That is why you are Radhe, Chandi‟s Radhe.” Radha too had suffered lifelong separation from her Krishn. Even then she was lost in Krishn. She remained lost in Krishn and fulfilled her worldly duties. How strange that, in India, Krishn‟s temples did not contain his female consorts, but they contained only Radha. Love was worshipped here. She too would forever remain lost in Chandi… until the end of her life… When Tom returned from his tour he found an amazing change in Diana. Her beauty had magnified twofold. Her glowing face seemed almost golden. Her eyes were full of the joy of motherhood… the daintiness and pride in her personality from her wealthy upbringing had been replaced by a certain maturity and independence. Tom thought that Diana had forgotten Chandidas… that she had forgotten the incident, his cruelty… but he did not understand motherhood… he did not understand the joy of giving birth to a child. God had deprived man of this pleasure. In this joy, woman had won over man. Even when God incarnates in the world as a man, comes as a messenger, he has to search for a woman‟s womb. A pregnant woman passes through that period of creation where everything bows down to the feet of motherhood. In India, the mother is paid tributes before God. There is no relationship greater than that with a mother. As the golden colours of the evening descended, the heat subsided. The breeze, moistened by the waves of the Ganges, knocked at the door as Tom entered the room and spread his legs on the sofa. Opposite him sat Diana working on her crochet. A slim thread was wrapped around her finger like a button rose. She was humming a song to herself. Bonomali made the regular peg of whiskey for Tom... Paro brought an omelette and salad. Everything happened like clockwork... the daily routine. But Diana was lost in herself, oblivious of the routine. The telephone rang as Tom took a sip and lit his cigarette. The call was for Diana. “It is someone called Munmun, asking for Didi... who is Didi?” Diana took the receiver... “I am.” She said hello to Munmun... “Yes Munmun... no I won‟t be able to come this week... yes do apply. Your bio-data should be impressive; I‟ll take care of it. Don‟t you worry. No, you don‟t come here this week either. Start preparing for the interview... I‟m all right... you‟re reading Jaydev these days. Okay... good night.” As she hung up, her eyes met Tom‟s inquiring gaze. Diana‟s disinterest was hurting Tom... “You didn‟t explain.”

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“I told you, Munmun calls me Didi. She is Chandidas‟s younger sister.” “What... so you haven‟t forgotten Chandidas yet? Those people... you‟ve even formed family ties with those two-bit slaves?” Diana gave Tom a hateful look. Tom‟s satanic face seemed to want to destroy Diana. Hindus believe in re-incarnation, so it was possible that Tom might have been an enemy of Chandidas and herself, in a previous birth. It is said that first the Ego was born, and then man... so all the ego goes into the man. Woman was made later for the entertainment of man, so she remained dominated. Because of her tenderness, modesty and decency she remained dominated. Man took this as her weakness and ruled over her. Tom was not untouched by this behaviour of man and so he does not believe that he had done anything wrong, committed a crime. His mind didn‟t have even a bit of repentance, nor any regret. “You belong to high society, a respected family. After all, what did you see in this family that you formed domestic relations with them?” “What I saw, you cannot see Tom. You are a lifeless statue full of indulgence, opulence and lust. How can you ever see such a family? “If you apply the dust of your feet to your head, it will definitely hurt your eyes.” All of a sudden, for the first time, Diana found herself saying... “I hate you... I hate you.” “Go on, hate me and love that dead slave... don‟t think either of your household or of your child... is that a wife‟s duty?” “And what of the husband? During your tours, you exploit a new defenceless woman every night and still think that your wife should be only yours. If she even looks at a strange man, her eyes will be gouged out, the man will be shot dead.” “Oh... you shut up... if you say even one more word... ” “Then... then what will you do? Like Chandi, you‟ll shoot me too? I want you to shoot me. But you won‟t be able to do it. You want a woman‟s body and her wealth... and when you‟re getting both of these from me, why will you shoot me?” Tom gulped down his drink in one breath and walked away to the bedroom. Diana knew that now Tom would not say anything. Women and wealth were his weaknesses. What did Tom have after all? Employment with the East India Company, that‟s all. That too, thanks to Diana‟s father. It was her father who had seen business and leadership skills in Tom. He had only just graduated from Cambridge in London. Tom‟s father was a simple farmer and often Tom had no money for food while he was studying at Cambridge. His friend would take pity on him and feed him at times, let him stay at their house. Tom had passion and he was hardworking, that is why even though he had to spend nights eating boiled potatoes and coffee, he stood first in every examination. He had only one dream... earn plenty of money and gain the status of the rich. A lot of time had passed. Thinking of that now, the heart sinks... why did that moment ever come in Diana‟s life? Diana‟s father had been invited as the chief guest to the annual festival at Tom‟s college and that is where he met Tom. He had presented the best actor‟s trophy for his group‟s play, to Tom. Since then, Tom had begun visiting Diana‟s home. Since then, she had been witness to Tom‟s rise, his promotions... how did her father choose such an extremely opportunistic, selfish and sly person as his son-in-law? He was a successful businessman and a successful businessman treads every step very carefully. Then how did he take such a wrong step for his only daughter? Diana‟s head was spinning... she could leave Tom, stay separately. But Tom would not let her live in peace. Diana was indifferent towards Tom. He could do whatever

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 101 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM he wanted to but in return he would have to make her one promise... then and there... Diana rose swiftly and stood beside Tom‟s bed. Tom was lying on a raised cushion, smoking a cigarette oblivious of the ash falling on the carpet below. "Tom... " Tom kept smoking as he looked towards Diana. "Tom... I have thought about it through and through and found that... " "What? Now what do you want? You‟ve already destroyed my peace. Now do you want even my solitude?" "You must give me a promise. Not just a promise but a compromise with me." Diana sat down on an easy chair next to the bed. Tom sat up. In his mind he was glad that he had expressed his anger, Diana was almost pleading for mercy. After all, what status does a woman have to speak up in front of a man and threaten to continue doing whatever she wants? He knew this female attitude too well. Eventually, they have to live by the will of men, be they ordinary women or extraordinary. "Say yes." She spoke in a firm voice. "From this day onwards until your last breath, you will never touch my body. I will stay with you on the condition that we will have no relationship." As if struck by lightning over Tom replied, "What are you saying Diana?" "I haven‟t finished Tom," Diana spoke calmly. She was completely composed while making this important decision. "You will not interfere in any of my work in any way. And you will continue to receive the monthly funds that you withdraw from my ancestral business... as much as I decide. The decision is yours. I have said what I wanted to. You can think it over for a week or two. I‟m in no hurry. Diana left the room without waiting for Tom‟s response. Tom‟s throat went dry. Contrary to his expectation, Diana‟s words were tearing into his body like arrows. He gulped down some water from the jug but his throat remained dry. He lit another cigarette and paced about in the room looking out into the hall. Diana sat calmly knitting her crochet as she asked Paro to bring her medicine and coffee. Today Diana had shown Tom her standing... today Tom too came out of the reverie he was in after marrying Diana... that of owning everything after her parents‟ deaths. But she had hanged him alive for the terrible murder of Chandidas that he had committed... he would never recover from this punishment all his life. Diana felt a huge burden lift from her mind and she felt light. Now she had only her true love in her life... her Chandi... and the token of her love that was yet to come... her child. Paro brought her coffee. It had grown dark outside and the streetlights had turned on. The streets in their neighbourhood were usually desolate at this time... so desolate that even the rustle of a leaf would alert Blossom. She was sitting in Diana‟s lap playing with her crochet threads. “Memsahib... it is not good to knit after dark. The child‟s eyesight gets weak.” Diana put down her knitting and smiled as she stroked Blossom... “And what else don‟t you people do at this time?” Paro sat down on the carpet and placing Diana‟s legs in her lap, began massaging her feet... “You have to be very careful in this condition. But you should never stop your urge to eat, otherwise the child begins to salivate. In this state, if your shadow falls on a snake, the snake becomes blind.” “Oh! my goodness, why does that happen?”

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“Because it is a period of austerity, the body becomes very bright. Look, how beautiful you are getting day by day. Shall I say something, madam... you are very nice... you seem to be just like one of us.” Diana‟s heart filled with joy. She remembered Chandidas... He too used to say that... “You have begun to look completely Indian, Radhe.” And just like that, he had massaged her tender pink feet... that touch, that feeling was still alive in her heart. Paro‟s hands didn‟t have the same touch but the way she stroked her feet... she withdrew her legs... “That‟s enough Paro... it‟s time for dinner... you can go now.” Paro picked Blossom up and left. It was also time for her milk and bread. Diana curled up her feet on the sofa. Wonder why Chandi was enamoured by her feet. He used to say... “In China, feet are a symbol of sex. Chinese women wear wooden sandals from childhood so that their feet don‟t grow big. Men find great pleasure in caressing their small tulip-like feet. Small feet increase their excitement. Diana‟s feet too were very beautiful and Chandidas would caress them whenever he got a chance to. Today, Paro had brought back those joyful memories... Her speed was as usual but Diana had paused. Now her nights would never be interrupted by Tom. She went into the bedroom adjoining hers. Shutting the door she put on her nightgown and lay down alone on the bed. Peeping out from behind the tangled bougainvillea outside the window, the lonely moon too was sad. Somewhere in the darkness a lone heron flew out of the trees towards the Ganges. Diana shut her eyes and tried to sleep. Munmun had a strong resemblance to Chandidas. Colour, form, interests, language... it was difficult to distinguish between the siblings. Munmun, like Chandidas, was a fan of music and after him she was managing the Institute very well. Nowadays, Satyajit was with her but with the start of the new term in June-July, he would become busy with his work at the University, what would happen then? Munmun would not be able to manage the Institute all on her own. But Chandidas‟s dream had to be kept alive. New teachers had to be appointed. Their salaries would come out of the students‟ tuition fees but how would the household expenses be met. Earlier Chandidas managed all the expenses, now this new problem had cropped up. That was why Munmun wanted to have a stable job. Satyajit would now meet her at her house... how circumstances make people helpless. Though Satyajit was a serious and modest man from a decent family, he had never had the courage to meet Munmun at her house while Chandidas was there. But now he would come there every other day inquiring about Maa and Baba‟s health. At times he would bring some vegetables in his bag, sometimes snacks or fruits. Maa and Baba too would remain silent. They had lost their will to object. After having lost two of his children, Baba would invariably debate with Satyajit on various topics to keep himself busy. The topic of discussion would frequently be the issue of independence. “What do you think, will we be free? Will the British leave India?” “What else is left to think? Don‟t you see the state of the country? Every party is committed to this goal in its own way.” “It is quite possible that the Muslim League will be successful in its mission... a separate homeland... a different dream.” “Let them be successful. At least we will be rid of these foreigners.” Maa interrupted... “Looking at them all the time, I am not even sure if I am in my own country or in a foreign land.”

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“Very soon Maa, we will be masters of the whole nation.” Munmun said as she brought a tray of tea... “But the problem right now is that where will I get a job... I have applied to so many places but no one has responded” The problem was serious.

***

The new school term had begun. New teachers were being appointed. Chandidas‟s school had a vacancy for a music teacher... which Diana had made Munmun apply for but there had not been an interview call yet. One day Diana herself went to the school. She met with the headmaster and explained the situation of Chandidas‟s household and recommended Munmun for the job. The headmaster was delighted upon hearing Munmun‟s family name, Guru Mukut Ganguly. “Is she his pupil? He is a great singer. There is no room for doubt. I will call Munmun for an interview today itself. Your work will be done Madam.” A silent cheer rose in Diana‟s mind. Even otherwise, the headmaster did not have the courage to turn down a request from the wealthy wife of such a high-ranking officer. In fact he promptly rang for the peon to bring some coffee for Diana. That night, Diana sat up late in her music room, playing the tanpura. The joy that she had received from Munmun‟s appointment, echoed in the air. The flitting curtains in the strong breeze... rattled light things lying around the room. A light rain had begun drizzling releasing a wet dusty smell from the parched earth. Diana‟s heart ached for Chandidas... she submerged her pain in the melody of the tanpura. As she sang, her eyes shed tears along with the clouds outside. The eyes that Chandi called „blue streams.‟ When Chandi‟s face reflected in those blue streams he would gently close her eyelids... capturing himself in her eyes. The rain grew stronger, then lighter outside and Diana‟s stream of tears cascaded into waves. The wind was so strong that the rattling window panes and rustling branches sounded as one. The gusty blows tore her heart apart. She set down the tanpura and came to her bedroom. Blossom with her tail raised, walked along rubbing her body against her legs. The wall clock counted out twelve chimes... the din of the storm had subsided. The next day Diana rested until late afternoon. When evening fell, Munmun arrived with a box of sweets. She was overjoyed... “Here Didi, open your mouth, this is Kaali Maa‘s prasad. I have got a job.” “Congratulations.” Diana put a sweet in Munmun‟s mouth and then ate one herself. “When are you joining?” “Tomorrow itself. The classes start tomorrow.” “So now you are a music teacher... this calls for a celebration. Have dinner here tonight.” Paro brought tea and snacks and Munmun gave her the box of sweets. Paro asked her in Bengali what the sweets were for. When she heard the reason, she sat down on the carpet and prayed her thanks to Kaali Maa. Then she touched Diana and Munmun‟s feet and ran off to the kitchen to begin preparing a special dinner with Bonomali. Chandidas had died around the time of the Holi festival, in the month of March. Her delivery could happen anytime in October. It was already September when the rains would say farewell and the weather would start heating up... Diana had learned that ever since Chandi had gone, the house rent had not been paid... and the landlord had finally had an eviction notice issued. Everyone at home was under tremendous stress. Diana wanted to buy them a house so that they

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 104 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM could come out of that filthy neighbourhood and be free of the burden of rent. Diana did not move around much and her health was also not too good. She sent a proposal through George to buy a house in Little Russel Street for Maa and Baba in their name. In the evening, Baba himself came to meet her. His face showed his anxiety. “What is this beti... Where will we get so much money from? “Baba... why do you worry? That house belongs to a friend of mine who is returning to London. I will buy it for now. If you wish you can repay me bit by bit. “But that place is full of wealthy people... such an expensive house.” Baba said doubtfully. “My friend is selling it cheap... she has to leave and wants to sell all her property here. You don‟t get good buyers when you are in a rush.” Baba had his arguments but she was ready with a reply for each of them. Eventually, Baba had to accept it. It was decided that Baba would go with Diana and George to the court next day. They would complete the registration formalities and take possession of the house tomorrow itself. Diana came up to the gate to see Baba off. Baba kissed her forehead and said... “Surely, we have a relationship with you from a previous birth... may you always be happy.” Diana looked at Baba leaving until he was a distant figure on the road.

***

In the month of Kwar, Bengal is immersed in Navratri celebrations. These nine days of worship are called the days of prayer and fasting. Chandidas‟s family had to leave their house before Navratri. Everyone was unsure of how to perform the prayers for entering their new home... it had been only six months since Chandidas had passed away. Munmun‟s view was that it was important to think of the wellbeing of the family that was left... after all if anything happens to us would that not make Dada‟s soul restless? Maa did not have anything left to say. This house had the memories of Gungun and Chandi and she was saving those memories to gather and take with her. The others were preoccupied with the upcoming change. One becomes attached to a place if one stays there long enough and they had spent so many years in this house. Everything had scattered in front of their eyes... perhaps this is what is called fate. Baba got an auspicious time from the pandit with great difficulty. He had said that Sunday would be a good day... four days later. And on Saturday Tom Blair had to leave for Ooty for four days. Ever since Diana had distanced herself from him, he had been trying to show his better side. Diana‟s ninth month was about to get over and the delivery could happen at any time. The tour had come up in between. He had made all the arrangements for Diana. A hospital room, a detailed discussion with the doctor, nurses, medicines and a jeep fitted with a stretcher, etc. had all been kept ready so as to be called upon at a moment‟s notice. Paro, Bonomali, the driver and the gardener had all been alerted. Diana, Deena and George had been instructed to relay every development to him in Ooty. Diana felt that all this was unnecessary but she remained silent... there was no sweetness in their relationship anymore. Tom could do whatever he liked, why should she interfere? On Sunday, the weather had been pleasant all morning. White, wispy clouds were scattered in the sky... the breeze wafted about gently. Diana left with Paro and Bonomali for Baba‟s new home. The house was in an elegant neighbourhood, surrounded by high walls. Behind the tall wrought iron gates was a garden with a pond in the centre... white lotuses blossomed in the pond. Diana had visited her friend several times in this house. She may have seen the pond but could

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 105 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM not recall having seen lotuses in it. Towards the left, a pair of peacocks was perched on the branches of Karaunda and Kachnar trees and a sparrow flitted on the grass below. A havan had been set up in the hall. Only Diana‟s arrival was awaited. When she arrived, Munmun helped her into an armchair. Paro brought her some water to drink. Their relatives and Chandidas‟s friends were seated on a rug on the floor. The prayers began. Baba and Maa sat down together in front of the havan. The pandit began chanting mantras. After the worship, offerings were made to the fire in the havan. Daina watched everything with longing eyes. If only Chandi had been there, he would have been so happy to see his Radhe amongst his family. “Didi, you are crying?” Munmun came up to her and knelt down. “Not at all... The smoke from the havan is causing the tears,” said Diana as she rubbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “I know Didi... we are all sad. The havan worship should not have happened but after that incident every little thing creates a doubt. If there is even a small fault on our part it should not cause another calamity... that is the worry... this worship... ” “No Munmun, I‟m not thinking of all that. Chandidas‟s memories came back to me and that‟s why my eyes filled up with tears. If he had been here today... ” “Shall I say something Didi... now there is nothing to be unsure about? Baba and Maa know all about you two... even that you are going to give them a grandchild... I have told them everything. What is there to hide?” Munmun had said all this very naturally but the news struck Diana like an earthquake. So Maa and Baba knew everything... would they forgive her? Would they accept Chandi‟s child? Diana‟s throat dried up. Her face was covered with sweat. She found it difficult to breathe and her heart sank. Paro ran and brought some water. “Didi... Didi... what happened to you... Baba, look at her.” Munmun almost screamed. The last offering was being made in the havan. Somehow Baba finished it and ran towards her. Maa followed behind... “It looks like the pains have begun. Call the ambulance quickly.” “That won‟t be necessary. The jeep is waiting outside.” The driver went with Bonomali and fetched the stretcher. By then, Chandidas‟s friends had picked up Diana... they carried her to the jeep and laid her down on the seat. Tom‟s empty stretcher was put back in the jeep. Baba and Munmun went with her. Maa, Satyajit and Nandlal would bid the guests goodbye and come later.

***

After suffering terrible labour pains Diana gave birth at about half past three in the morning. Soft, pink, with big, black eyes like those of Chandidas, exactly the same face. Outside in the gallery, Baba, Maa, Munmun, all of Chandidas‟s friends and Diana‟s servants waited impatiently... the only person missing was Tom... as if even destiny had not permitted Tom to be part of Diana‟s moment of happiness. Upon hearing that it was a baby girl, Munmun broke into a happy dance. Baba and Maa wept. They were desperate to see a part of Chandi. Paro placed her forehead on the ground and thanked Chandi Maa as George went to telephone Tom. After about an hour they were permitted to meet Diana. Maa and Baba went first. Diana looked weak and tired. Her face had turned pale. Her lips were parched. The labour pains that she had endured... were evident all over her body. Baba caressed her head lovingly... “How are you beti?” “I‟m all right Baba... ” and she pointed towards the cradle where Chandi‟s daughter lay wrapped in a soft cloth. Maa picked her up in her arms and felt the same trembling sensation that

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 106 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM she had felt when she had first carried Chandi. Suddenly, she broke down crying. Baba took the baby from her and placed her in the cradle... “Why are you crying? She is a sign of happiness.” Maa kissed Diana and said... “These are tears of happiness.” Munmun arrived as soon as Maa and Baba left... “Thank you for making me an aunty, Didi.” Diana smiled... With the combined effect of the drugs, injections and exertion, she felt her eyes closing. The doctor had given her strict instructions to rest. She did not fall asleep and was aware of the people who came to see the baby girl lying in the crib. With her eyes closed she slowly began to hear Chandi‟s voice, singing a song to her... “Ai kule aami, aar oi kule tumi... ” Diana turned and slowly went into her Chandi‟s arms... “I didn‟t let the river run dry, Chandi... the river of our love flows on... and will keep on flowing... forever. You‟re looking at your daughter, aren‟t you? It was you who told me the story of Brahmakaal... which doesn‟t grow in water but grows in barren rocks and valleys... even then, it is so bright, so fragrant that the magic of its scent gives out infinite happiness and unlimited bliss. Fascinated by the magic of its fragrance, Draupadi had insisted that the Pandavas bring her the Brahmakaal blossoming in the inaccessable valleys. I am Brahmakaal... the flower of love blossomed in rocks... Tom‟s cold- heartedness could not even touch me.”

***

Baba insisted that Diana come to their house first from the hospital... Now that the havan ceremony had purified the deathly atmosphere at home he wanted to have a small prayer. Diana agreed. On the tenth day, she recovered fully and came to Baba‟s house. George gave this news too, to Tom. Tom fumed when he heard of it but hid his frustration from George and said calmly, “It‟s all right. What will she do alone by returning to the bungalow? She will be well looked after there.” Tom drank and cursed Diana the whole day. As soon as it was dusk, he mounted his horse and rode off towards the tea gardens. The tea leaves had been picked and the mountain girls had taken off their waist-baskets to rest. He saw a beautiful young girl and lost control. He picked her up to the horse and rode back to the bungalow. All night he abused her body to take his revenge on Diana. Outside, in the bitter cold, sat her wailing father. To speak out against the excesses of a British sahib would have been like inviting death.

***

Munmun had dressed Diana in a brown, golden-bordered sari, tied her long hair into a bun and placed a bindi on her forehead. Diana‟s face had bloomed. The baby girl too was looking lovely in her silk clothes. It was a tradition to name the baby after a prayer. The name was to be given by the aunt. Munmun was unsure whether the name should be English or Indian. Diana called her and said softly... “Chandi had wished that if it was a boy, the name should be Sangeet and if it was a girl then Ragini. An excited Munmun ran back to the Pandit. “Panditji, Ragini.” Panditji declared... “The girl‟s mother has named her Ragini. It is very auspicious according to her stars.” He applied a tilak on the baby‟s forehead and tied a rakshasutra around her wrist. Diana too had a rakshasutra tied for herself.

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Everyone congratulated Diana. Ragini‟s arrival had filled the void of Chandidas‟s death. Outside, harsingar flowers bloomed in the garden. A pair of peacocks had spread their feathers and begun a dance. The October evening had turned pink.

***

Tom had returned from his tour. The atmosphere at home was busy. While someone was heating water for Ragini, another was boiling milk. Deena was placing rattles above the cradle... Paro was fetching a silky pillow cover... Durgadas was decorating the vases with flowers. Tom‟s mood was off... he had realised that the child was Chandidas‟s... In his own house, his own servants were serving Diana‟s illegitimate child! He felt like strangling her then and there but had understood from Diana‟s changed attitude that securing her wealth was more important for him than being in the arms of different women every day. He approached the cradle… “Oh! My God… how small she is… Look Diana, how small and soft her hands and feet are… Like cotton balls… and the hair on her head… like a black cap…” Diana looked at him disbelievingly; at how normally he was behaving even after all that had happened. A put on behavior ignited a spark inside Diana… “Tom, my daughter‟s name is Ragini.” Tom eyes turned red... dousing Diana‟s smile in it... Tom began to get irritated... “Wow, that‟s a nice name. But she is also the rose of my desires... my Rose... ” “Rose?” “Yes... Her name will be Ragini Rose Blair.” Diana thought of George‟s sons... Michael and Nekjaad. But they were twins. How cunningly Tom had turned her daughter into twins but she was willing to accept it. She was not so small- hearted to take issue with Tom on such a small matter. The next day, Ragini Rose Blair‟s birth was being celebrated at home. The bungalow was decorated like a bride. The grand occasion was graced by several British officials. The officers‟ wives were present dressed in colourful dresses but Diana and Deena wore sarees. Tom had set out a bar, laden with brandy, wine, rum, whisky, champagne and vodka. Everyone could drink whatever they liked. He wanted to show that today he was overjoyed... he had become a father... after all, was there any measure for the happiness of parenthood? Any limit? It was that feeling hidden deep within the soul that humanity calls ‗age‘. But Diana knew that Tom‟s show of joy was fake or simply a ruse to woo her. Tom had been shaken at how Diana had accepted that the child was Chandidas‟s... without hesitation and openly. He could see everything slipping from his grasp. He felt that the palace of wealth in front of him could collapse at any time like a house of cards, if the winds turned against it. Now, his every step should be measured and careful. There was only one thing remaining for Diana to do... to look after Ragini. But slowly she was turning hollow inside. She had fulfilled one of Chandidas‟s dreams but there was another remaining... the country‟s freedom, for which Gungun had sacrificed her life. He used to say... “If only our child could take its first step in a free India!” “It will be so Chandi, Gungun‟s sacrifice will not be wasted.” That conversation, that moment remained stuck in Diana‟s life and she was slowly losing her health. She had a fever regularly and had lost her appetite. Whenever she looked at Ragini, touched her, loved her, she felt as if she was touching Chandi. She knew that she would join Chandi soon... there was little time... a lot had to be done quickly. One day she called George

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 108 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM and told him of her intention to draw up her will. The solicitor arrived the next day. In her will, she left all her movable and immovable property, jewellery, etc. to Ragini and gave George and Deena her guardianship and legal responsibilities until she became an adult. This happened on the 25th of July, 1947 and on the 15th of August, India became free. Before that, on the 14th of August, Pakistan was formed. Lightning strikes, volcanoes erupt, the earth quakes. In the ravages of floods and famines, human lives are snuffed out like the wick of a lamp, but this was a manmade and political game of bloodshed. Innocent Muslims were forced to jump into the fires of partition with this question in mind... “After all, what have we done? Who is separating us...? Why has Lahore become Pakistan, and Delhi, India? We too fought for India‟s independence. Where did this Pakistan come from? The cranky emperor Tughlaq too had moved his capital from Delhi to Daulatabad and every citizen of Delhi had been forced to migrate there. Can anyone leave behind his love for his soil? But this love was torn away. The joys of freedom were divided, the country was divided into two, hearts were divided and without any reason, Hindus and Muslims became enemies of each other. In the guise of religion, the seeds of communalism were sown. Hindus began calling Muslims Pakistanis and Muslims began calling Hindus Hindustanis. Once again, the Mahabharat war of Kurukshetra was repeated. Brothers were separated and boundaries were drawn. The skies shed tears of blood upon this destruction. On the night of 16th August, Diana clasped a picture of Chandidas close to her chest and slept, never to wake up. Her heart stopped beating in her sleep. How could the heart that beat for Chandidas, beat without him... she had died the day when Chandidas had been murdered. She had to live for so many months without him... so that she could fulfil his dreams... the day his dreams were fulfilled, Diana went to him peacefully. Diana‟s last wish was that her last rites be carried out according to Hindu custom and instead of being washed away in a river, her ashes be scattered in the valley of Handi Kho in Panchamadhi. The ashes reached where they belonged. Baba had broken down in tears while fulfilling her wish… “Diana was a sati… Today I have lost my Chandi again.” Tom was a mute spectator in this entire affair.

***

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7 Now there was nothing left in India to tempt Tom. He would have gotten rid of Ragini too, if Diana had not left everything in her will for her and so it was important for him to take care of her. George and Deena remained completely loyal to Diana and kept a close watch on his antics. Consequently, Tom returned to London with ten month old Ragini and took up residence in Diana‟s house along with George, Deena and their two sons. Deena kept Munmun informed of everything to do with Ragini because Diana had wished it so and during her illness she had made them promise her that they would keep in touch with each other during Ragini‟s upbringing. Tom had not lost his addiction to alcohol and women. There were plenty of women in London from whom he bought sex every night and blew all the money which he got from the monthly stipend that Diana had set for him. Slowly his health began to deteriorate. Alcohol wrecked his kidneys... soon he was completely bed-ridden. His liver bloated and filled up with water. After spending one month in hospital when he returned home his legs gave way. He would barely manage to reach the toilet with the help of a walking stick. He stammered while talking and could not even control his ablutions. George had appointed a nurse for him but she could not share Tom‟s pain with him. He was dying a painful death, wasting away slowly. It is said well that heaven and hell are created in man‟s imagination. We reap what we sow, in this world itself. We do not even die until we have been meted out the entire punishment. During the nine years of his stay in India, Tom had raped forty five women. Many of them had committed suicide. He had used his authority as a Britisher to kill thirty people and his biggest crime had been the murder of Chandidas because of which a kind, talented and innocent woman like Diana had left this world. Now there was nothing left but repentance. Alas, if only he had loved Diana... shared her joy and sorrow, he would have enjoyed all her wealth with pride... but... time had slipped out of his hands. How could he now turn the clock back? He was left in misery, each day of torture and atrocities in India kept coming back to him leaving him tearing his hair out in frustration His body was being torn apart with pain. He was dying and begging the nurse for drugs to ease his pain but she had already given him his doses. Suddenly he felt a surge of blood in his body as he vomited it out violently. He was bleeding from his ears and eyes as well. That weekend, George and Deena and taken Ragini for a cruise on the Thames. The servants at the house took Tom to the hospital where the doctors declared him dead. After having paid by his own blood for all the blood that he had extracted from innocent people and having spent ten years of his life bedridden by his life-taking illness, when Tom received death, it was on the street... he had breathed his last in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. This was not the end of suffering; this was the end of a sinner who had been decaying in the dungeon of his sins for ten years. Not one person shed a tear on Tom‟s death. Such was his tragedy. He may have looked down upon the whole world and considered himself all powerful as he kept committing atrocities but the same atrocities became his prison cell. Thus, an era came to an end.

***

Deena used to tell Ragini of her aunt in Calcutta who loved her very much. Ragini had become so familiar with Munmun‟s face and image that if she had appeared in front of her she

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 110 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM would have recoginsed her Munmun Aunty immediately. In the cultural programmes of London‟s Indian community, whenever she heard any Bengali girl singing, she would remember Munmun as intensely as if they had lived together for many years and their brief separation was now over.

***

Many summers full of memories passed by in this fashion. She was now a student at Cambridge where her sculpted figure and sharp features were a popular topic of discussion. Along with numerous English and Indian girls, she had many male friends from different countries. They earned a living to pay for their boarding and lodging. Some worked part-time while some gave tuitions and others worked in restaurants... amongst the part-time workers there was an American called Samuel, whom everyone called Sam. Sam and Ragini had met in the college cafeteria after a class. Sam had come and sat down next to her at the dining table. A row of students in black gowns sat on both sides. The cafeteria was filled with the clanging of spoons, plates and forks. The lecturers and Professors sat at the corner table in the hall and their slow conversations had an intoxicating effect on Ragini‟s weary mind. Beyond the high windows, tall trees in the garden stood like doorkeepers keeping the environment secure. “Are you a student at Cambridge, Miss..?” Sam had asked her suddenly and she had smiled at his ridiculous question. “Excuse me, did I say something wrong?” Sam asked as he tried to hide his embarrassment. “Not at all, you are right. I‟m Ragini Rose... a student at this college and I have come here from the same class you have.” They laughed heartily. A few Professors at the corner table looked at them disapprovingly. “Come, let's go outside.” It was drizzling outside. A few drops fell off the leaves of a tree and splashed onto Ragini‟s cheek. Sam offered her his handkerchief... “Thanks”... the drops soaked into the handkerchief. Ragini needed to borrow some books from the Fitzwilliam library... “Shall I leave now?” “When will we meet again?” Sam asked impatiently. “Whenever you want?” “Why not now... for some more time... so that I can tell you that from Paris, I... ” Noticing a special invitation in Sam‟s eyes, Ragini nodded and stuffed both her hands in her pullover. The drizzle had stopped. Groups of students were walking past. They strolled onto the lawn. “Paris is a city of dreams. Beautiful and rich... the hangout of romantics... I‟ve come from there... to study and to achieve my goal.” “Goal?” “I have been struggling to reach my goal, but the day is not far when I will be making my own advertising films, documentary films... really.” “Amen.” Ragini prayed for him. Her car was moving towards her slowly from the parking lot. Ragini took Sam‟s leave and headed towards the library. She returned in fifteen minutes with some books by Shelley, Keats and Elliot and found Sam still standing where she had left him... “Oh! You haven‟t left?” “I haven‟t said Goodnight to you yet.” “Oh... how sweet... you‟re very nice.”

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 111 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

The driver opened the door of the car. “Where will you go? Come, I‟ll drop you.” “Thanks... I‟ll walk, else he‟ll be unhappy.” “Who?” “There is someone... he stands on Jesus Lane every evening and plays sad tunes on a strange instrument. His instruments change every day... but from every instrument comes the same melancholy. I spend some time with him. Then I go to my little rented room and eat bread and boiled vegetables... I know, I‟ll be free of all this soon when I complete my project.” That was all Ragini learned about Sam that evening. She did not get a chance to meet him for a week. Ragini was engrossed in the books she had borrowed from the library. Deena would telephone Munmun often at night and Ragini would be eager to hear her voice. She would ask her on the phone... “Which book is my Ragini reading?” Ragini would be perplexed... “Oh! Bua, how did you know that I am reading a book? Bua, I‟m reading Keats... he‟s written... And No Birds Sing... how this line hurts.” “Ragini, a bird‟s chirping is that joy of nature which stays all around us, unnoticed... It is another matter that we don‟t understand it.” “I didn‟t understand Bua.” “Silly girl, a bird‟s twitter is one of nature‟s expressions of joy, isn‟t it?” How well Bua explains it. Goodness knows when she will be able to see her. Deena would seriously mark out time... these many years for college education, these many at University... Ragini would get frustrated... “Will I go to India when I‟ve grown up? Why not now?” How could Deena say that the time was not right for Ragini to go to India... she should focus only on her studies for now. Her journey to India should not turn from a simple visit to Munmun and become one in which Diana and Chandidas‟s love affair and Tom‟s brutality lead her astray. Lost in thought, Deena gazed worriedly at the stove. Fond of sophistication, Deena had decorated her room artistically in an ultra-modern fashion... George had begun to look old... Deena‟s hair too had greyed gracefully... there wasn‟t a single black hair left. Both their sons had settled in America. She stayed with Ragini like her shadow. She was afraid of even a single fault on her part breaking her promise to Diana. Primrose flowers breathed gently in the breeze outside in the garden. Far away, the moon seemed caught between some chimneys.

***

Like her Mama, Ragini too was obsessed with reading. She had a long list of English authors whose works she wanted to read. Not just English... foreign authors as well. There were scores of books in Diana‟s library... Shakespeare, Bacon, Pushkin, Rousseau, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Lamb, Hobbes, Darwin, Swift, Defoe, Chatwind, Bruce, Chekov and her cherished Indian authors Kaalidas, Ban, Tagore, Sharatchandra, Bankim, Sunil Gangopadhyaya, Chandidas, Mahashweta Devi, Mahadevi Verma, Devakinandan Khatri, Premchand, Nazrul, Iqbal... Oh! My God. It makes the head spin. Is one life enough to read all these books? She was currently reading about Krishn. The more she read on Him in books, epics and poems, the more she got lost in Him. Which form of Krishn should she accept... He was equally attractive in all of them.

***

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 112 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

Deena tried not to mention Tom to Ragini and to fill her gentle mind with every little detail about Diana. She made her familiar with Chandidas as a singer. There were two portraits above the fireplace in Ragini‟s room. One of Diana and the other of Chandidas. Between the portraits was a small brown statue of Tagore which the students of Shantiniketan had made themselves and which Diana had bought in the bazaar of Bolpur. A large portrait of Tom hung on the wall opposite. Ragini never saw any feeling in Tom‟s blue eyes and in contrast, Chandidas‟s large, brown eyes seemed full of love. For no apparent reason, it suddenly occurred to Ragini that Sam‟s eyes seemed to be similar to her Dad‟s. Sam needed money desperately. During the last six months, they had spent every evening together, attending lectures at college, sipping coffee in the cafeteria and had grown quite close to each other. Sam would often have no money, but he appeared wealthy by his attire, shoes and style. Sam had understood that Ragini was the sole heir of an aristocratic family who was now orphaned and she had a beautiful, sculpted body which, if ever captured on camera, would become a sensation in the world of modelling. Sam bided his time. “Why don‟t you become a casual announcer at the BBC? You‟ll be able to earn while you learn.” “That‟s not my dream, Rose. There are many average people there. I don‟t want to get lost in that crowd... interviewing VIPs, reporting... anyone can do that. I want to work in films. I won‟t do scriptwriting either. With a camera in hand, I will only direct.” Sam‟s eyes were steeped in his dreams. “And I‟ll read all about Director Sam‟s films and see the stills of his advertisements in the Observer or the Guardian.” “Definitely, it will happen and it will happen soon.” Despite them having different views, the seeds of love began to grow within them. Often they would walk along the banks of the Thames after college and take a ride in the launch together. Life is very beautiful if it is lived well, else there are dreary, colourless days and dreary, colourless nights. Sam was very allergic to such days and nights. The launch had a fresh coat of white and blue paint... sliding through the waves like a huge glacier. Dusk settled in. The moon took a dip in the trail of white, foamy water that the launch left behind and floated away in the waves. Both of them came and stood near the railings of the launch. They found themselves flowing along with the moon like two pigeons in love... in the flow of emotions that had arisen within them. Suddenly, Sam took Ragini in his arms and kissed her lips. Ragini was startled. It was completely unexpected. She looked at Sam questioningly... Sam remained firm. “I love you Rose, infinitely, without boundaries... ” “Sam, I haven‟t made up my mind yet.” Ragini replied slowly. “No, you have begun to love me too. I know it. You may not realise it but I do. And it was bound to happen, my Rose.” “Bound to happen? Oh! God. How did you know that?” I knew it and I felt it too, and now I‟m announcing it.” He clasped her hand and raised it high as he looked up at the sky and yelled... “I declare my love!” The other passengers seated on the launch were surprised. They had reached the shore. Deena was on the sidewalk along the banks of the Thames, desperately looking for Ragini. It was the first time that Ragini had not returned home until so late.

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 113 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

“Aunty... ” Ragini introduced Sam to Deena in a quiet, slow voice. Deena smiled forcibly and took hold of Ragini‟s hand, “Come on... George is all tensed up at home.” “So, let‟s telephone him first.” Sam suggested. “Yes, that will be good.” “Wait, I‟ll call the driver.” “No, no, Aunty, Let‟s all go in the car to a restaurant and have some coffee. We can make the call from there.” Deena could not think of anything to say. The cold wind was inviting the hot coffee. Deena and Ragini sat in the rear seat of the car, Sam sat in front... he had a dream of buying an expensive, plush car just like this one. He felt like driving the car... He had made up his mind that when he drove his own car, his speed would leave everything far behind. After spending half an hour with cups of coffee in the restaurant, when Ragini returned home with Deena, a soft tune hummed from her closed lips. Deena heard it clearly.

***

Those were the golden years of student life when all of creation appears to be in one‟s grasp. A few upper-class people had joined Ragini‟s circle of middle-class friends, full of daydreams and fun-filled evenings. Shahra was studying law. She had declared her goal of winning an age old case and they all had laughed at her. Saba was studying Hungarian. Dora... music, Millie... Zulu, Afrikaans, English and Hindi too. When she served her pot pourri of music, Sam and Joseph would get stirred up by her rhythm. Joseph was studying Engineering. Shahra Saleka‟s father was a wealthy businessman. Saba and Shahra lived in a grand apartment in Chelsea where there were beautiful buildings whose red-carpeted floors declared their grandeur. Chinese ceramic pots with broad-leafed money plants, rubber plants and Christmas trees standing next to their pillars gave them a joyful ambience. Uniformed watchmen stood there awaiting their orders. Dora felt a connection with the art world because she lived in St. John‘s Wood which was known to be the heartland of artists, actors and intellectuals. Huge, leafy trees lined the streets in the area. It seemed to be a locality of wealthy people but there was a different culture brewing inside every home. By evening, this culture would be out in the street-side Italian restaurants or in the gardens, pubs and cafes discussing current affairs and world events. If there were any things missing, they were love, harmony and understanding. A rogue culture was flourishing in the younger generation. Everyone was stunned by Ragini‟s love for India and her interest in researching contemporary India‟s most complete artist and hero, Krishn… but Sameer supported her fully. Sameer Khan had come there from a small village in Pakistan-occupied Kashmir, to become an engineer. He had an extremely innocent, gullible and compassionate nature. “Krishn was a true hero. That‟s why his followers are beyond national and religious boundaries. Raskhan was a Muslim. His name was Syed Ibrahim. The title of Raskhan was given to him by Akbar. His poems describe Krishn‘s childhood so wonderfully... ” ‗Kaag ke bhaag bade sajani Hari haath saun le gayo makhan roti. Va chabi ko raskhan bilokiti baaridhi kaam kalanidhi koti.‘ “Sameer...??” Ragini was speechless. Everyone was rooted to the ground. Only Sam seemed unaffected as he blew rings of cigarette smoke in the air. “Ragini... not only Raskhan, Nigaar Sahbai too was fascinated by Krishn.”

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 114 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

“Pakistani poetess Nigaar Sahbai, wasn‟t she... ” “Yes, she writes... ‗Rasta na roko natkhat Shyam, sau sau baar karoon parnaam Aanchal na khaincho Gokul ke vaasi, ho jaoongi badnamm.‘ Why did the poetess think only of Vrindavan‘s naughty Shyam and his shy ladies? Why not Laila Majnu?” “Hey Sameer... What‟s happened to you?” You read books day and night and we have to bear the brunt.” Joseph was getting bored. “Bear it and appreciate it too... come on man, come back to the real world.” Sam stubbed his cigarette on the ground. Ragini rose in a hurry... “I‟ll carry on. Sameer, you can come with me if you like... I‟d like you to.” “Where?” Sameer dusted his trousers as he got up. “Let‟s go to a restaurant where we can talk about Krishn over coffee.” Ragini walked swiftly towards the car as Sameer joined her. Sam was left shouting... “Hey Rose, wait... ” “What happened to Rose?” “Joseph and Sam made fun of her Krishn.” She was upset. They all dispersed. Sam was left alone. He lit up another cigarette.

***

“I thought you were a Hindu. You name causes confusion. Sameer means ‗the wind‘ in Hindi.” Ragini explained as she sipped her coffee. “But in Islam, the water-filled path to the Kaaba is called Sameera. My name is Sameera Khan, people call me Sameer.” “Why do you have two names… English and Indian.” This question troubled Ragini as well. ‗Ragini‘ is an Indian name and ‗Rose‘ English. Deena had told her. “Madam Diana was a singer, that‟s why she named you ‗Ragini‘ and Tom ‗Rose‘.” “Your name is itself part of a song.” Sameer looked at Ragini affectionately. Ragini blushed for the first time in her life. She had experienced something pure. “Why did you choose Krishn for your research?” Ragini‟s eyes lit up... “Krishn is a wonderful personality. My Mama was a fan of Krishn. Mama learned music just to have Krishn‟s name on her lips all the time. She learned Krishn bhajans, read all the historical writings about Krishn. I never saw Mama but she urges me every night to do research on Krishn... to go to India. In India, mantras are extremely powerful. Vedic mantras are recited from birth until death... following all rites and rituals. When I try to read Vedic mantras, my heart fills up with a storm of feelings deep inside.” Sameer was speechless... “But you are English, Ragini?” “Yes, but I was born in India. My Mama died in India. The two people who raised me with all their love and affection, Aunt Deena and Uncle George, are Indian too. My bua, Munmun is Indian too. India is no less than a holy place for me.” Sameer grew serious... “I too was born in India because then my village was in India.”

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 115 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

Suddenly, he lost his voice. This was a painful topic for him... According to his views, the partition of India was a mistake. Ragini too took a deep breath. “Sameer... I don‟t have political wisdom... perhaps that‟s why I can‟t seem to understand. What were the reasons behind the partition? And if the land had to be divided, why the people too? Why were they burned in the fire of communalism? So much destruction, so many deaths?” They were quiet for some time. The coffee was finished in silence.

***

As they rose from their seats, they saw that it was getting dark outside. The streets were filled with tourists where Ragini‟s car dropped him at the beauty parlour... “Why‟re you getting off here, Sameer?” Sensing her drift, Sameer laughed out loud. The car was moving slowly because there was no place to park. Walking alongside the window, Sameer replied... “There towards the left, where those steps go down, my room is in that street. The restaurant at the street corner serves delicious non-vegetarian food. Like the meat of lambs in our Kashmir.” The car picked up speed. Sameer was left behind.

***

Samuel had dropped his studies and was busy trying to earn money. He had taken a loan on high interest from a private company and opened an office on the twentieth floor of a tall multi- storied building surrounded by huge oak trees. He had received a contract for the filming of some new advertisements and had dedicated himself to working on them. Sam was waiting desperately for the time when he would show Ragini the cassettes of his ad films and his new office fitted out with the best timber panels. For Ragini‟s twenty-second birthday, Deena and George had decorated „Diana Villa‟ like a bride and her entire group of friends was invited... they had all nearly completed their studies and were busy shaping their dreams for the future. A few girls were engaged to be married and married life was a golden world for them. These innocent girls did not know that this magical world of theirs, decorated with imaginary moons, stars, flowers, perfume and love was merely a delusion... A fallen soldier‟s name may be engraved on the martyrs‘ pillar, in history books; the torch of his name may burn for long but the sacrifices of these girls dying on the altar of marriage can never be valued enough. Shahra had fallen in love with an Italian boy and she was enjoying the party with him, hand in hand. Dora was sad. If she had her way, she would have sung a melancholic song but Saba had forbidden it because... “At least today don‟t tell anyone that the music show that you‟ve been preparing for, for two months, has been cancelled because of disputes amongst the sponsors.” Saba spent most of the time with Dora. Ragini looked beautiful. She wore a white, mink gown studded with diamonds. A white hat, long white gloves, a diamond necklace, delicate high- heeled sandals studded with rare diamonds... it so happened that when Ragini bent over to blow the candles on her cake, their light glistened in the diamonds, brightening them a hundred-fold; at that moment, carrying a bouquet of red roses, entered Samuel. He didn‟t blink. Shining like moonlight..., his lover, an angelic fairy, was standing in front of him. He froze where he was and it struck him that the model whom he was searching for... couldn‟t be better that Rose.

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 116 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

The party carried on late into the night. Music, laughter, fun... Diana Villa was full of enjoyment. That evening, Sam took the opportunity to get Diana‟s promise that on Saturday he would take her to see his office. Rose should also see how hard he had been working to achieve his goal. He had put in all his efforts, there was nothing more left. Dedication and only dedication. When his ocean of dreams stretched out, the waves would crash against the rocks on the shore. He wanted to see if the crashing waves were stronger or the rocks.

***

Fallen maple leaves lay strewn on the streets. Their reddish hue was the colour of passion as well as of destruction. At the thought of destruction, Ragini‟s heart missed a beat. She clasped Sam‟s hand tightly. It was Saturday and she had promised to go with Sam to see his office. As they came out of the lift, the smell of polished timber filled her nostrils. Sam opened the windows and seated her on a chair. He poured her a glass of water... “This is my humble workplace. Let‟s have some coffee first, then I‟ll show you my project.” The coffee was well made. Sam switched on the TV as he nibbled at the biscuits and played a cassette. It was a film of a cold drink with shots of several ordinary-looking, bikini-clad models at the sea-shore. Sam laughed when Ragini praised his work. “No dear... no false praise... that will kill the artist in me... point out the weaknesses, my love... weaknesses... that‟s what I want. Did you know that I play the guitar as well?” He picked up a guitar and played a lovely tune. Diana was lost in another world. It happened often. Whenever she listened to music, her Mama‟s world would begin opening up in front of her. Chandidas‟s world would begin unfurling. Then, Ragini would not remain herself... she would efface herself, absorbed in the memory of Mama and Chandidas. “What happened... what were you thinking?” Sam asked. Ragini composed herself. “I was lost in the tune you were playing.” Sam kissed her.

***

Sam would wait impatiently for Ragini every day. He began visiting Diana Villa uninvited. The exams were over and everyone awaited the results. Ragini‟s group of friends had dispersed after an enjoyable farewell party. Emotions ran high at the college farewell function. Every corner of the college seemed to be calling out... “Go, my students, leap into the Summer of life with abandon. Never fall back in this battle because it is your own.” After the farewell, they came and sat in Ragini‟s car. They promised to keep in touch with each other. Addresses and phone numbers were exchanged. With choked throats, they vowed to meet again. Apart from Saba, they all got down at the tube station. Saba had to spend the rest of the evening with Ragini and Sam was upset that his precious evening was being wasted. He glanced at Ragini repeatedly but found her engrossed in talking to Saba each time. “Ragini, let‟s go for a long drive today, I want to fly in the breeze. I want to dance with the butterflies, sing with the bees... who knows what tomorrow will bring.” “Saba, a lot will happen tomorrow... The time you‟ve spent today will be discarded in the rubbish bin and the next morning will be like an old newspaper.

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 117 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

“No Ragini... Today will make the foundation of our experience strong... it will be inscribed in our book of life as a golden past. Sam was bored with the conversation about today and tomorrow. He had no way of avoiding it. The car sped along a long, lonely road, lined with tall trees. After a long time, Diana halted the car. It was at the grave of the English writer, Elliot. Wild grass had grown all around the gravestone. Mosquitoes flew about when it was disturbed. The epitaph read... “In my end is my beginning... ” This was the philosophy of the Gita too; that the soul never dies, it only dons a new body just as a person who has bathed in a river, discards his wet clothes and puts on new ones. The three of them stood silently for some time. The epitaph went on... “Please pray for me... ” Why this yearning? After death, where is there any connection with the world? Niether with the world, nor with relationships. How does it matter if someone prays or not? They returned to the car with heavy hearts. “How sad, Saba... did you want this kind of a drive?” Sam asked dryly. “This too is a part of life. We shouldn‟t forget that one day we too will die.” “Huh... live your life first.” Sam said softly, but Ragini heard him. She did not approve of Sam speaking in this manner. Life was not about chasing something in the guise of living it, but he wouldn‟t understand this.

***

The friends had been bid farewell. Ragini had all the time in the world which she spent on reading books from the library. She was reading Mama‟s Krishn literature collection very carefully. Her grand desire to read all the poems and texts remained unfulfilled because she did not know Sanskrit. Deena had arranged for an Indian tutor for her and when the tutor, Umashankar disclosed that he had taught Sanskrit at a University in Germany and that too to German students, Ragini was puzzled. It was known that the credit for bringing Indian languages to the world stage was due to Germany. German Professors teach Hindi and Sanskrit there and their libraries have all the Indian texts. Texts were available in London too. London had more Indians; in fact the city seemed like India‟s Bombay. Noticing Ragini‟s intense interest in Krishn, Umashankar said... “Ragini, there are some Vedantist families here who are devotees of Lord Krishn. They believe that Krishn has always been close to us. Only the third eye is needed to see him. “My Mama had that eye. She has seen the real form of Krishn.” Ragini said emotionally. “Yes, Deenaji has told me all about her. She was great... By loving Krishn, she gave meaning to our tradition of “Vasudev Kutumbakam.” With that, Umashankar shut his eyes and said Namaskar. “Will you introduce me to the Vedanta devotees? “Yes, certainly. That will be simple. We will find them easily at Krishnji‟s temple here. Their satsang will be very useful for your thesis. ―Yes, I want to do my thesis on Krishn. I have to enrol myself at Oxford University. First post-graduation, then the thesis.‖ Ragini thought. The swirling window curtains in the room warned of a coming storm. Umashankar had to go to the BBC for a programme. But this chilly storm... in a short while, snow began covering the roads. “I should leave or else this storm... ” said Umashankar distractedly.

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 118 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

“It will not be good for you to go in this storm. The BBC people will understand.” Snow fell for an hour. After it subsided, Deena saw that Umashankar was impatient and suggested that he leave by car. Outside, the snow melted bit by bit and slowly turned into mud. The red leaves on the porch shivered under the ice.

***

Though Ragini had enrolled at Oxford for her post-graduation and begun her studies, she was not able to settle down in the new environment. Umashankar too had stopped coming because she had learned Sanskrit very quickly and very well. Umashankar was impressed by her ability. Such students were rare. She had read all the Sanskrit texts that Umashankar had given her and had been influenced the most by Kaalidas. Though Sanskrit literature is mostly full of shringar ras and all poets and writers have composed their works in this style, Kaalidas had been marvellous. In particular, Meghdoot and Abhigyan Shakuntalam were incomparable compositions. The sole witness of the divine love of Yaksha and Yakshini in Meghdoot was the single cloud above the Himalayan peaks, which was completely absorbed in listening to Yaksha‘s message. It was an amazing creation. Ragini had not tired of it even after reading it many times. On the final day of her studies, she herself went to leave Umashankar to his house. Umashankar was always keen to visit the BBC. He was well known in the Hindi Department. He lived in a rented room nearby. Often, he would eat in the BBC cafeteria or else cook some khichdi with potatoes. “Shall we have a banquet of aloo khichdi in my house today?” “Oh no. You cook with your hands... I mean you cook yourself. It is I who should be giving a banquet, as a Guru Dakshina. My study of Sanskrit is complete... you have made me a Sanskrit master.” “You are an intelligent girl, Ragini... you will make immense progress. Go to India at least once. I may not be able to go now.” “Why? Why don‟t you want to go there?” “I have no one there. For an orphan there is no difference between his own country and a foreign one. This is now my country... my life will end here.” ―I too am an orphan‖, Ragini wanted to say but she couldn‟t. She did not want to burden Umashankar with her sorrow. She took Umashankar‟s leave with a heavy heart... “The completion of my studies doesn‟t mean that you stop meeting your student.” Umashankar laughed lightly. Ragini kept waving from the moving car until he could no longer be seen.

***

After completing her Sanskrit studies, she spent most of her evenings with Sam. He was the only friend remaining from the group. They strolled along the roads, parks and landmarks of London. They would sit for long in restaurants over a cup of coffee. Gradually, their closeness, their attachment transformed into an understanding. Ragini agreed to work in Sam‟s ad films as a model. That is what Sam wanted. Shahra‟s marvellous beauty in his films would open the staircase to his success. Deena was disappointed when she heard of it. Will the sole heir of a

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 119 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM distinguished family become a model? For years she had forgotten herself and put all her energies into creating a matchless personality for Ragini. Was it all for this outcome? She telephoned Munmun immediately... “Didi... My upbringing hasn‟t gone well. Ragini is out of my hands now.” Munmun‟s voice quavered. “What now?” “I can‟t understand anything. She is trapped in that American boy‟s love. She doesn‟t understand right from wrong. When her films are released, we will be shamed in public.” “We will have to be patient; Deena... this age is not one of being forceful. One wrong step will ruin the whole future. I will ask Satyajit for advice... I‟ll think of something.” ‗Without‘ was everything for Munmun, without a marital relationship. All her relationships began and ended with Satyajit. He was her beginning and end. Deena was greatly impressed by both of them.

***

London was blooming in the spring. Every park and garden was full of flowers. Ragini wanted to immerse herself in the flowers with Sam. She found Sam‟s every action impressive. Sam was really hard-working. Before the shoot, he would prepare the set and present it beautifully. He had no shortcoming, from the technical aspects of shooting to the actors‟ mood, thinking and his own thinking, efforts and dedication. After the pack up he would devote all his time to Ragini. Sam was delighted when Ragini‟s first ad film was ready. He saw all the other actors off and spent the evening celebrating with Ragini. A bottle of Champagne was opened and he embraced and kissed Ragini... “The entire credit for this success goes to you, my Rose... do you know what‟s on my mind. This Samuel the Great wants to capture the whole sky in his arms... Samuel wishes to make commercial and artistic films in Hollywood. Will you be with me, my love? Ragini hid her face in his embrace... “Ragini is yours, darling. You are free to do with her, as you please.” Ragini wanted to submerge herself in the ocean of love. Along with Sam, she wanted to turn the tide... she loved flowing like water on the earth. She wanted to change the flow to her liking and Sam... “Not Ragini but Rose... My Rose... When I‟m with you, I‟m lost in the shadow of roses. Rose... There have been filmmakers like Hitchcock, Frank Capra, William Wyler, and Billy Wilder... then why can‟t I be like them? The spark of ambition and the flames of love ignited together... A drunken ocean was rising and falling in Ragini‟s eyes. Sam had made her drink a couple of pegs of alcohol and she was not in control of herself. Sam caressed her eyelids with his lips, and they embraced as her dress unfurled itself. Her delicate, virgin body began melting slowly in Sam‟s passion. The evening had said farewell and the shivering night was knocking on the door and in the chilly, lonely room, their fiery bodies became one. After an hour when the alcohol wore off, Sam‟s phone rang... “Hello Samuel... Isn‟t the shooting over? Where is Ragini?” Sam gave the phone to Ragini. She was trembling. What could she say to Deena, who was like her Mama? Deena, who had been like her shadow in every joy and sorrow... who would sacrifice a hundred lives for one of her smiles and who sheds tears of blood when she cries; who could she tell that Deena about the sin she had committed?

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“I‟m very sorry Aunty... I‟m just about to leave.” Ragini dressed herself. Her whole body was prickling sweetly, her eyes were drooping. Sam brought her to Diana Villa in such an intoxicated condition. Deena was at the door, puffing away at a cigarette. She had picked up this habit recently, ever since she had learned of Sam and Ragini‟s relationship. Ragini could not look her in the eye. Sam steadied the situation... “Sorry Aunty... there was more today, that‟s why.” Deena didn‟t reply. She too had loved her George but not like this. How long will this torrential love last, crashing through the rocks of dignity, unaware of its own boundaries? Her silence pounded on Ragini‟s chest like a hammer. She went straight to her room and climbed into bed without changing her clothes. When she woke up late at night, she noticed that the room heater was switched on. God knows when Deena had come and turned it on. The light in Deena‟s room too was on. Ragini‟s head dropped in shame.

***

Several weeks passed. There were ten days left until Christmas. This time Ragini shopped alone for Christmas. Deena had hurt her knees in a fall from the stairs and George had gone to Manchester. Sitting in the car, Ragini was looking at the white, snow-covered roads lined with black trees. In the hazy light, their long shadows looked like ghosts. There was some activity in the dark houses. Patches of light coming from the houses behind the trees were spread all around. There was noise in the houses and Christmas carols in the air. Ragini habitually stopped the car outside Sam and her favourite restaurant. Sam was at the door even though they had not discussed meeting here... “This is called soul-to soul communication. Our love is the voice of our souls.” Sam placed his arm around Ragini‟s waist. The waiters looked at each other knowingly. They smiled at each other happily... a strange coincidence... their favourite seat in the corner too was empty... At the end of the hall sat the same Italian artist who made sketches of patrons hoping that they would like his work and buy it and he could earn enough for a meal and drink. Sam took out some apple buds from his pocket and placed them in Ragini‟s palms. The sweet smell filled Ragini‟s breath. She was staring at the artist. Perhaps he was making her sketch. If that was true, then she would definitely buy it, telling him that she was taking it as a Christmas present and would fill his pocket with money. Ragini smelled the apple buds and closed her eyes. Sam was playing with her golden bracelet. “This bracelet is Mama‟s... She had it made by a goldsmith in Calcutta; a Bengali bracelet. “You think of India a lot... it was our colony... we‟re superior to them. We shouldn‟t think of our slaves.” Sam said vainly. Ragini groaned. She hated Sam‟s way of thinking. She felt that winning and losing in battle had their own reasons. Neither side was superior or inferior. This way of thinking only shows our own impoverishment. She sipped her coffee silently... Unlike the young generation, Ragini was not the kind of person to be provoked by every wrong thing. Her silence was her biggest weapon. Sam kept planning for Christmas... the presents for everyone, the greeting cards to be bought. This year he was going to give Ragini a surprise. He would surprise Deena Aunty and George Uncle too... “Oh, doesn‟t Sam ever tire of speaking?”

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When they finished their coffee and got up to leave, the artist was taking the last puff of his cigarette. He stubbed the butt in an ashtray and put aside his pencil. Ragini came up to him and saw that his sheet was blank. He hadn‟t made a sketch today. Ragini‟s mood turned off.

***

Time passed gradually leaving its mark on the past. Sam and Ragini became each other‟s need, each other‟s necessity. Ragini had received love as an inheritance from her Mama... but the passion of her love for Sam began eating away at her like termites. Sam kept growing in the world of advertising. He was in high demand in the films market. Ragini did not even have the time to leaf through the Indian texts in which she had once experienced the depths of love. Keats‟s words “And no birds sing” began to ring true. Neither was there time to listen to the chirping of birds nor to lose herself in the vastness of the sky. Now, there was only she and Sam. The sky blue room in Sam‟s film, lost in the whirlpool of dim lights, seemed like a fairyland in which she was the fairy. After the shooting, she would lose herself in Sam‟s arms. Sam presented her as a semi-nude model in his films. London was agog with the magical presentation of her marble-like body... in fact, so was the whole of England. To stamp his authority in America‟s commercial world and in his desire to enter Hollywood, Sam popularised her in America too. Deena was rueful, George pined. Where did they go wrong in her upbringing? They had brought her up like a daughter. Where did it come apart? Now what face would they show Munmun? One Sunday afternoon, they invited Samuel home. They seated Ragini and Samuel in front of them and requested them to take back their steps. George spoke gently... “Sam, do you know that Ragini is the sole heiress of a prestigious business family; her father was a high-ranking British officer in India and her mother was a great singer... this family is linked to the creative arts.” “This too is creativity, Uncle... Art... Don‟t you consider it art?” “What you are doing is art, but what Ragini is doing isn‟t. That is showing off the body, like in a market. “The world is changing rapidly, Uncle... Modelling is considered an art nowadays.” Samuel gave his reasoning but he knew that it was a pitiful appeal that he accept his word that it was an art, without realising that beautiful and popular models were in such high demand that Sam couldn‟t afford them. But George and Deena were unmoved. “Do you think that we don‟t understand art, Sam? If exposing the body to sell products in the market is an art, then I feel sorry for your knowledge of art.” “Uncle George... I like modelling. After all, every person should have the right to live their own life.” “Ragini, we are saying this for your own wellbeing.” Deena was almost in tears. “I know what is good and bad for me, Aunty. I‟m grown up now. For how long will you hold my hand?” George and Deena were aghast. What kind of language was Ragini speaking in? At night, Deena broke down while speaking with Munmun... “I am returning to India, Didi... Now George and I are not needed here. Ragini has grown up; she wants to live in her own way... ”

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“Let her learn life‟s reality, Deena. If you want to return, come back, but don‟t keep thinking that you have failed in bringing up Ragini. Sometimes, one is bound by the twists of time and then all efforts are useless.” Her words worked like an ointment on Deena‟s wounds. If Munmun were with her today, she would have touched her feet as if a boat caught in the rapids has suddenly found shore. Seeing Deena packing her luggage, Ragini asked... “Are you going somewhere, Aunty?” “Yes, I am returning to India. My work here is over.” “Leaving me alone?” “Where are you alone, Ragini. You have your ambitions, dreams, thinking. Where are we in them?” The suitcase was packed. Deena placed her hand on Ragini‟s shoulder... “Our flight is on Monday and we have to wind up a lot of things.” “Aunty, you know that I can‟t live without you.” Ragini wrapped her arms around Deena. But Deena had become cold as stone because of Ragini‟s antics and whimsical behaviour. All she could say was... “You have your caretaker Julie and her brother Gordon. My absence will not make any difference.” She turned back to her work. A defeated Ragini returned to her room. She understood that George and Deena were unhappy with her modelling; such loving people couldn‟t become so cold-hearted for any other reason. Could she really be wrong? Was the dazzling world of modelling snatching her away from her own people? Would George and Deena really go away? But what was she to do with her heart which loved Sam? Sam‟s career would be destroyed if she left modelling. All the years of hard work would go down the drain. Ragini felt trapped in a whirlpool which she couldn‟t escape from even if she wanted to. Ghalib‘s poem said it all.. Ye ishq naheen aasaan bas itna samajh leeje, Ek aag ki dariya hai doob ke jaana hai.

***

On his way back from Manchester to London, George kept stopping the car and roaming about in the nearby villages and forests. His mind was distressed because of Ragini. Having lived in London for twenty-five years he felt the pain of being uprooted from there. He had become to think of London as his own. He had managed Tom‟s business very well. He had nurtured Diana and Chandidas‟s mark of love, Ragini, like a blossoming flower but she had washed away his castle of sand like a wave from the ocean. Where would he return to in India? He had no one to call his own there... Everything and everyone had been washed away in the tide of time. Suddenly, he realised that he was now alone in the world and at his age it would be very difficult to start afresh... so very difficult... The car had overheated. He crossed the road with a water can in search of water and headed towards a church ahead. It was very old and dilapidated... an ugly church narrating its past. Weeds grew all over the broken walls. Birds sat chirping on the naked, low-hanging branches of the surrounding maple trees. To the right, there were prickly bushes. Red maple leaves stuck in the bushes rustled in the wind. Tall grass crushed beneath his feet... as he walked ahead he stumbled on a rock. As he brushed aside the overgrown bushes, he saw a row of gravestones. George took off his hat and held it on his side as he cleared up the grass from the graves. The names of the buried dead were engraved on the gravestones, the dead who had belonged to this

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 123 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM village and had met their death in India. George prayed for them. Even though these men had waged war on India, they too were martyrs of their country. He too had been martyred on the hills of humanity. He too had sacrificed so many years of his life in nurturing Ragini... left his country behind to stay in a foreign land... but what did he get?... He would be buried in an anonymous grave in India. No epitaph would be written for him. Suddenly, George dropped to his knees and cried bitterly as he clutched the grave.

***

When Ragini returned from the shooting she found that George was unwell and Deena had taken him to a nursing home. He had been suffering from diabetes and high blood pressure for long. Deena had tried all Indian traditional remedies on him. Sometimes the juice of bitter gourd, sometimes powdered jamun seeds and at times, moistened methi seeds with water... at every step, Deena had taken care of George. Then, how was this disease growing? Ragini had not realised how much stress she had created for George in the past few months. Deena would still be able to argue and feel lighter but George had been eaten up from inside. Julie had said... “Hopefully, Sir won‟t go into a diabetic coma.” “Is he that bad, Julie? I didn‟t even know... They were both getting ready to return to India.” “Sir has been sad ever since he returned from Manchester. He has been poisoning himself with cups of coffee. Neither does he eat nor does he talk to anyone.” Julie came up close to Ragini... “Shall I tell you something, baby... you won‟t feel bad?” “Yes, what is it Julie?” “Baby... Give up this modelling... Diana Villa is being destroyed baby... please.” Ragini was shocked. This was a direct accusation; George‟s illness was being blamed on her. She rushed to the bathroom and for a long time washed away her misdeed under a hot shower, but the more she tried, the more her guilt grew.

***

On the fifth day, George returned from the nursing home. Their return to India had been delayed. Ragini breathed a sigh of relief.

***

Julie was fetching firewood from the colliery and placing it in the fireplace. George was seated in front of it. Deena was knitting. Their faces were covered by the pale shadows of the flames. Diana Villa was in the grip of a heart-rending, deathly silence. The silence had neither distress nor spiritual peace. They were both eager to listen to the sounds of time when their dreams had died and that was very dangerous... when dreams die. George and Deena had accepted that the inevitable would happen. Resisting it would only invite pain. Day by day, Ragini‟s falling out ate into George like termites. George became hollow. One day he fainted and did not get up. In the hospital he was put on life support to keep his breathing, heartbeats and brain functioning. The machine next to his heart was working away like a hammer. Deena was standing on the other side of the glass partition... at exactly that time... during the days at the hospital, Sam left for Hollywood. He had received a lucrative offer and he

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 124 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM did not want to let it go. He could not even visit George at the hospital because he had been busy. Deena‟s sons had arrived from America. Separation from Sam was squeezing the life out of Ragini. The innocent girl had not realised that for so long Sam had not only exploited her body in his films and earned a lot of money but he had also emptied her body of all vitality, like a bee feasting on a flower. George breathed his last on the eighth day. He was a true devotee. He had served his mistress all his life and after Diana‟s death, he had lived up to his responsibility towards Ragini. But he passed away staring at the cracks in the fort that he had built. His last wish was that Ragini manage all of Diana‟s business so that years of effort would not go waste. When George died, Munmun and Satyajit arrived from India. Ragini saw Munmun for the first time. She had expected her to have grown old but Munmun seemed to have aged in reverse. Her face showed no signs of advancing age. Her beautiful, radiant face was glowing in the light of Satyajit‟s golden love. Ragini embraced Munmun. Munmun felt as if she was in Dada‟s (Chandidas‟s) arms... Ragini began crying bitterly. The trauma of George‟s death was eating her up from inside. On the other hand was Sam‟s absence... which she had never even contemplated. “Bua... I‟m all alone. My father has died again.” Munmun caressed her hair... “Are life and death in our hands? You are brave, my dear... Now you have to look after Deena. You now have a responsibility.” “How bua? Where do I have the courage? “Do you know Ragini, God tests only those whom He considers capable and you will pass this eam with flying colours, I am sure.”

***

Time passed by. In deference to George‟s last wish, Ragini took over management of the business. She began to go to the office regularly. She felt that she was doing what she should have started while George was alive. Was this not her fault? Had she wasted all these years? Should she trust Sam? It had been over a year since he had gone to Hollywood... he would telephone once in a while and talk only about his films. Where did that love go, for which she had drifted apart from her well-wishers? Was it only an illusion? Deena would keep trying to make her understand... “Forget Sam. He will not return. This is not love. Love requires sacrifice and dedication. True love comes without any attachment, is selfless, and honest. Sam had sowed his love on a selfish foundation and naturally only lust and deceit was reaped. You are innocent; you couldn‟t see through it and were cheated.” “No Aunty... he‟ll return. He truly loves me.” “That is your fantasy, Ragini.” God knows why Ragini felt compelled to be deluded. While she was in the office, she would be busy with her work. As soon as she returned home, thinking of Sam, praying for him would become part of her routine. On the other hand, she was receiving many offers for modelling. She had been a successful model but Ragini had announced that she had retired from the world of modelling. Her compulsion kept her waiting for Sam for three years. He kept her in this fantasy for two years with telephone calls and letters. In the third year, he closed the chapter and finished Rose too... the Rose who was Rose only for Sam, Ragini for everyone else. Ragini Rose... divided into two parts, into two feelings... If Ragini was a chime, Rose was a scent... Ragini‟s boat moves slowly. Every day, a stream of flowers flows ahead, showing her the way. Meanings are divided

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 125 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM and the strength of words creates a new feeling. A lot gets ground in the heart and its distress seeps into every pore. She looks at the old people who sit on the benches in the Pensioners‘ Park staring at the yellow flowers with their weak eyes trying to take in the light outside. She looks at young couples falling in each other‟s arms as they chase butterflies flitting amongst the flowers as they kiss each other lightly. And then her gaze falls on the single boat that has been bobbing in the lake of her eyes... This was her own water palace and the water was her tears. Ragini had been to Los Angeles, madly in search of Sam. But there was no trace of him. Her beauty was diminishing regularly. Sam had cast her in this plight but she still waited for him. After returning from Los Angeles, Ragini fell ill. After dinner, Deena lay her head down on her lap and caressed her hair... “Ragini, what have you thought about yourself?” She laughed weakly. What was left for her to think? Her youth had bid good bye, she had become an adult and had been storing her every breath for Sam. “Sam will not return now, Ragini. He is dazzled by the glare of Hollywood. Wealth is everything for him.” Deena kissed her forehead. She embraced her. She wanted to ask... “Why is my destiny linked to greedy people, Aunty... Dad, Sam... Both of them ruled my life... one in my childhood... the other in my youth...” but she held back her tears and kept silent. Ragini‟s question remained unanswered. Ragini stayed ill for quite some time. With the fever had come the wracking coughs. Suddenly, a thought struck Deena... Could it be tuberculosis? All the doctors in London were contacted. An investigation found that it was only a cold and the flu. Deena heaved a sigh of relief. But seeing Ragini‟s pale, dull face and thinning body, she herself began keeping unwell. In any case, George‟s absence had taken the life out of her. Ragini was still waiting for Sam. She would cry loudly when she was alone. Why did Sam do this? In Sam‟s love, she had sacrificed her body. She had hurt her loved ones, hurt George deeply and had still remained true to Sam. No, Sam couldn‟t be unfaithful... then one day the illusion shattered suddenly... Sam got engaged to the leading lady of the film he had started making in Hollywood. The wedding was to be in two months‟ time. Ragini was left in shock. Her whole world shattered... Munmun telephoned that night... her voice seemed to be coming from a grave. Weak and sick, Ragini arose... no one could make out what was wrong. In the morning, when Julie brought bed-tea to Deena‟s room she found her dead. Her heart had stopped beating while she was asleep. She would have gone with her George on that day itself when he had looked at her helplessly as he lived on time borrowed from the machines but she had been fettered by her responsibilities towards Ragini. The chains had been broken today. She had realised that there was no future left for Ragini anymore. She had sacrificed herself for Sam and she would not recover as long as she had Deena‟s shoulder to cry on. Perhaps that was why Deena passed away quietly without troubling anyone. Ragini had been orphaned once again. Munmun could not come but Deena‟s sons came with their wives. This was Deena‟s small world. Ragini‟s fever began raging. The doctor would visit twice a day. He advised complete rest and a strict diet. Julie would make her notes behind the patient‟s chart. She took complete responsibility for Ragini‟s care. Gordon looked after everything outside. Deena‟s sons and their families returned home after completing her last rites. They had nothing left there anymore. They could never give Ragini the kind of love that Deena and George had wanted them to. Perhaps the

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 126 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM reason was that because of Ragini, Deena and George had not been able to give them enough attention.

***

After about three months, Ragini regained her health. She made a long telephone call to Munmun and told her that she would remain in London and look after the business. She wanted to bear Sam‟s unfaithfulness alone or perhaps she wanted to punish herself. She could not even think of marriage. What would she be able to give her husband? Neither did she have any love left, nor a body nor a healthy mind. She did not even want to fall into these delusions... she was exhausted... she had put her trust in Sam... but Sam had given her nothing but a broken past... in fact, because of Sam, her dear George and Deena were no more. Munmun was afraid... “Silly girl, why are you bent on destroying yourself unnecessarily?” “You‟re calling it unnecessary, bua? This is reality. The bodies of lovers may die but their souls remain alive... and people who bear hatred, die the same day when hatred is born in their hearts. That‟s why I don‟t want to remember Dad but Mama and Papa will always remain in my memories.” Munmun had heard Ragini address Chandidas as Papa for the first time. She felt a shiver go down her spine as she yelled out... “It is true... Arre come here everyone... Look at what my dear Ragini is saying.” Ragini heard everything on the phone... her eyes shed tears... yes, she had known that she was the love child of her Mama and Chandidas. After George‟s death, Deena had told her this when she had drunk a couple of glasses of wine. Ragini had been so delighted then that she had hugged Deena and cried... “Aunty... By telling me this, you‟ve lifted a huge burden from my mind. Death was better than being called Tom Blair‟s daughter. I have been distressed by this thought all these years... Aunty, today my mind tells me to dance in the heavens, I feel proud... Oh, Aunty... You‟re great.” And she had kissed Deena‟s cheeks till they had become red. “Ragini, my doll... your Papa had so much love in him that one lifetime wasn‟t enough and your Mama... she was devoted to Krishn and Krishn is an ocean of love.” “Bua, Mama wanted that I should do my research on Krishn so I‟ll definitely do it but first I‟ll become a successful businesswoman. Uncle George wanted me to. “It will be so. God is with you, Krishn is with you.” “And Mama too! Bua, a person dies only when his memories are no more. Mama is always with me, in my memories, my resolve, where her desires have gradually sprouted.”

***

In the bitter cold and freezing wind, Julie had only just opened the door to pick up the bag of vegetables when a strong icy draught blew into the house but it had no effect on Ragini. She was beyond all reaction. Oblivious of herself, she had lifted her thinking to a new level. Her solitude had become such a shield that she could face any assault in her life easily without any emotion. She had Julie for support. Her presence had become Ragini‟s courage and she had spread her affectionate wings to protect Ragini... and Gordon... who had given her external security. While these two caretakers remained in Diana Villa, could she ever be alone? Could she ever be needy?

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***

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Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 128 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

8 The beginning of a new era is perhaps built on the ruins of decades. It was amazing that, in twenty long years, Ragini had reached dizzy heights in her flourishing business. She had earned her fame as a successful businesswoman. Meanwhile, Julie had married a Hungarian and settled down in Austria. Gordon had been suffering from paralysis and Ragini had admitted him in a reputable hospital with a nurse to care for him. Twyla and her husband Richard had replaced Julie and Gordon. But Twyla was no match for Julie. While Julie had been selfless in her service, Twyla‟s focus was on the payment for her services. Richard, however, was more diligent than Gordon and a well wisher of Ragini. On his advice, Ragini had adopted an orphan girl. At the age of forty, it was an exciting experience for Ragini to become a mother of a four year old girl. She named her Rati... Rati Ragini Blair and held a grand naming ceremony for her. Ragini felt a sense of fulfilment by replacing the father‟s name with her own. A toran of flowers was placed at the main door of Diana Villa at Munmun‟s behest. Twyla gave it an Indian touch by drawing a beautiful chalk design of alpana. Earthen lamps were placed around the alpana and Rati was introduced to her new life... the orchestra played till late in the night. In the presence of the guests, Ragini had announced that she was establishing a trust called the „Diana Welfare Trust‟ named after her beloved Mama. The Trust would help the needy in the fields of Education and Publication and also provide scholarships to deserving students. Additionally, it would also provide donations to the Wild Life Fund and Mother Teresa‟s Ashram in Calcutta. Ragini attended church regularly and prayed for her daughter. She believed that God had been merciful to her. It was God who had given her guardians, Deena and George, after her parents had passed away... then Julie and Gordon... and now, Twyla and Richard. And finally, to end her solitude, a daughter like Rati who gave her life meaning and inspiration to do her research on Lord Krishn. Would she ever be able to forget these acts of grace by God? Even though her research progressed at a snail‟s pace, the satisfaction and pleasure she experienced during that time was beyond explanation. But she could no longer wait. She had to go to India and see the birthplace of Lord Krishn. Mr Smith, the director of Ragini‟s company, had come with a beautiful bouquet of flowers to the Sahar International Airport along with his whole team to receive her. He had made arrangements for Ragini‟s boarding and lodging in the Taj Mahal Hotel. She could have stayed in the city that marked the love of her mother and father but Munmun insisted on her coming to Calcutta at the earliest. They were waiting for her impatiently. Ragini reached Calcutta by the night flight. She could not control herself upon seeing Munmun and Satyajit and fell into Munmun‟s affectionate and motherly arms. Tears shed from her eyes, telling of the condition of her heart. Munmun too allowed her tears to flow. Satyajit was restless. “Arre, Why are both of you crying so much?” “These are tears of girls who visit their father‟s houses. You will not understand. Only girls can understand it.” “Yes Bua. I am in a different world now. I am so happy.”

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Ragini seemed to have experienced her entire world of bliss, while sitting in the car. The sun rose turning the east into first a grey, then a magical red landscape as Ragini entered Munmun and Satyajit‟s aesthetic bungalow. There was a nameplate made of walnut wood, on the main door, with the words „The home of Satyajit and Munmun‘ inscribed on it. They had been living together for the last fifty years in a platonic relationship, compared to which all other relationships seem hollow. Munmun and Satyajit had seen eighty four seasons of Spring in their lives but they were still full of life. Satyajit used to get up early in the morning and prepare tea. He would slowly wake up Munmun saying “Get up, my Queen of melody, your servant is here with a hot cup of tea.” “Then you have to make me drink it too.” “Yes, I will.” They used to go for morning walks after tea. The maid servant used to arrive at eight o‟clock when they returned from their walk. There used to be a lot of discussion on the morning news over breakfast and tea and the time would tick along to noon. The maid used to call out, “Take your bath otherwise when shall I wash the clothes?” Munmun had started wearing salwar and kurta those days. Her head and open long hair were always covered by an odhni. There were no ornaments on any part of the body, only a large bindi and a wrist watch on her right wrist. Yes, she used to her wear wrist watch on the right hand. “Do you know Ragini... Munmun is very fond of diamonds, emeralds and pearls? She is so enamoured by them that she stops the car at the showrooms and stands there just looking at them. She takes them out of the showcases but neither buys nor tries them on.” “Satya, they are not made for me so how can I wear them? But, there is no harm in looking at them.” Her eyes were shining like diamonds as she said this. Nobody would believe that she sings even now. Her voice quivers a bit but there, the tone and rhythm are perfect. “Bua, I will lose my voice by the time I reach your age.” “Now listen, Satya. She is fifty years old but looks only thirty five and is fooling us all by saying this.” “No... really, Bua. Everyone needs a loving partner to stay young but I don‟t have one. I have crossed half a century.” Ragini words affected Munmun deeply. Why has God made this girl so lonely? Otherwise, women do not even realise when they have become old. They are too busy fulfilling their duties to their mother, father, brother, sister and then their in-laws and grand children. Ragini had not experienced this. Munmun also had not but Satyajit had fulfilled all the needs in her life. Ragini had not gotten even that. What was the reason for God doing this injustice to her? Ragini was mesmerised by Satya‟s dedication to Munmun. Her father also loved her Mama. She wanted the memories of her mother and father to life in their city of love, Calcutta... “Bua, I want to start Papa‟s music academy again.” “Listen Satya, tell her... we have done all the planning.” Ragini was astonished that Munmun began everything she said with Satyajit‟s name. “We were waiting only for you.” Munmun asked the maid servant to bring a blue file from the table. The design of the building for the music academy was in the file. “This two-storeyed building belongs to a Marwari businessman. He wants to sell it. It has spacious rooms, a large hall... a boundary wall on all four sides, a garden... a huge gate.” They all went to see the building. The deal was fixed. The papers were signed. Ragini gave the cheque...

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The responsibility of registration and other paperwork was given to the advocate. Ragini looked at the building for a while and took a breath of satisfaction. Munmun took them out for dinner to a five star hotel to celebrate the occasion. That night was an unforgettable night because Ragini and Munmun‟s dream had come true. “Bua... Papa had used the name Chitrakala Academy, hadn‟t he?” “Yes... But, this will be an academy only of music. We have to remove the word ‗Chitrakala‘ from the title” “I have given it some thought. The name should be „Chandidas Sangeet Kendra.‟ “Wah, wonderful, how did it come to your mind?” Munmun was thrilled and Satyajit was surprised. An auspicious time was to be decided for a date in the next month in consultation with a pandit. By then, a lot of purchases were to be made for the Academy. Portraits of Diana and Chandidas were to be made for the walls of the hall... a marble temple of the Goddess Saraswati at the entrance... a deepdaan about four feet long... carpets for all the rooms, tabla, tanpura, harmonium..., curtains on the windows... a big reception table, telephone, cupboards, books, signboard. An advertisement had to be placed in the newspapers. Pamphlets on the music classes were to be distributed as inserts in newspapers. Oh, how would all these things be done so soon? Who would do all this work? Where did Ragini have enough time to complete everything? She wanted to see the Kumbh Mela. She wanted to spend a few days there. That was the reason why she had planned a trip to India. All the cities linked to Lord Krishn... Mathura, Vrindavan, Dwarka, Jaidev, Shantiniketan. The list was long and the time short... Her published thesis was also to be sent to various libraries. “Your ticket for Allahabad is booked for tomorrow. The arrangements will be made by Chaumalji. Chaumalji is a well known businessman of Calcutta and his team will be looking after the boarding and lodging of foreign tourists at the Mela.” “And the responsibility for the Academy.” “Do not worry about that. There are a few music fans amongst my students. They will do all the purchasing and the decorations. You just need to remember the inauguration date.” Now Ragini had nothing left to say. Bua had made all the arrangements within minutes. “You won‟t come with me to Allahabad?” “Things will be ruined here if I go with you... I have to supervise everything here.” At night before going to bed, Ragini remembered that she had forgotten to show a very important thing to Bua. She brought the thesis, printed in golden letters on a black cover and placed it in front of Bua. Munmun saw the cover and started turning the pages. Ragini had dedicated this thesis to Diana and Chandidas but had thanked everybody; Diana, George, Satyajit, Julie, and even Gordon. Munmun was overwhelmed with happiness and exclaimed, “Arre, come here Satya. Come and see... oh, Maa... It is a miracle. You have finished this work too.” She carried the thesis in her delicate hands, to the mantelpiece where portraits of Diana and Chandidas were kept. Placing the thesis in front of them, she lit incense sticks. By then, Satyajit and Ragini had also come over. All of them folded their hands in front of the portraits of Diana and Chandidas. Munmun murmured, “Didi... Your wishes are fulfilled. Bless Ragini that no sorrow may touch her.” Ragini, Munmun and Satya, all three embraced each other and stood there for a long time. Nobody could sleep that night.

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***

It was bitterly cold and there was dense fog for miles along the shore. Ragini was surprised to see a shahi procession of Nagas from the Sanyasi Akhada. They looked like strange creatures that she had never seen before. In all her travels she had never seen such a wonderful place. Accompanying her were Chaumalji, Padmaji, her brother, Kusumakarji and the two sisters, Saudamini and Sulekha. Actually, Chaumalji had sent them along to look after her, though they said that they had come to take a holy dip in the Kumbh. They had all gotten friendly with Ragini in the short time that they had spent together. “Baba ji, who are those people?” Ragini asked a tripund dhari baba who resembled a mahant. The Mahant looked at Ragini for a while; she had shoulder-length golden hair, large eyes and was wearing a loose jersey, jeans and a woollen cap covering her ears, with a binocular hanging around her neck and a camera in her hand. Baba smiled at her face which betrayed both, local and foreign culture... “They are nagas.” “Nagas... ” Ragini repeated in the same tone. “Yes, they are without bodies. They have gone far beyond the sensation of their bodies. They have attained freedom from worldly desires.” The Mahant raised his string of holy beads to his eyes and put it around his neck. Ragini was staring at the rudraksh beads. The Mahant touched them, “These are Panchmakhi, the symbol of suppression of the five senses, the easiest way to find peace. Do you understand Indian spirituality?” “Yes, I have read Mahabharat, Ramayana, Gita, Bhagwat Mahapuram... I have worked hard to learn, read and write Sanskrit and Hindi languages.” Ragini said with pride. The Mahant was not surprised. He felt proud of her grasp of Hindi. “Then you must know of Maharishi Vishwamitra. The angel from heaven, Maneka disturbed his prayers and aroused lust in his mind. He was not spared by lust and even Indradev too got caught in its trap. But, these Naga sadhus... they have controlled their lust.” Ragini was dumbfounded and she could only say... “Oh.” As if she was beholding the sages from age-old Puranic times who had taken form in front of her, alive and more real, strange, wonderful... Oh... the old sepia sheets that she had suppressed in her heart all her life began fluttering in the breeze. Sam had used her to fulfil his lust and made her descend into a personal hell. Her heart had broken, its pieces scattered like petals of a rose. All of Kumbhanagar was in the grip of bitter cold. “Will you not take a dip in the water, Madam?” teased Kusumakarji. “Bhai Sa. You‟ve got to be joking. This is not cold weather for her. She lives in London.” Padmaji covered her head with a shawl and turned away from the breeze. A few loose strands of hair resisted and peeked out from behind her ears. The nude Naga sages were bathing in the ice cold waters of the Ganges murmuring the names of gods. Ragini shivered. Shlokas uttered by past Mahatmas echoed in her ears. A passing procession of akhadas set a beautiful scene, recreating the times of great kings and emperors. People stood for hours to catch a glimpse of the Nagas and Mahatmas. The crowd numbered millions. Tourists from different countries, NRIs from Mauritius, Fiji, Surinam, Holland; the Mahakumbh was taking them for a voyage into the past. A hundred and fifty years ago, their ancestors, in their scores and thousands had been taken away from India to serve as labourers in

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 132 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM these countries. Enduring tortuous journeys, they had transformed these island nations from deserts to lush green and fertile lands with their labour. They were then forced to settle there but the Indian religious faith was deeply ingrained in them. Their descendents became citizens of those countries and from them flowed their own Ganges of their religion, culture and spirituality. Alas, the way of life that Ragini had come from did not value this culture. There was no sangam of rivers where people had to take a dip at an appointed date, time and season. No Naga sages that had won over their lust. On the contrary, they indulged in sex as a form of social interaction. The country England, was capitalist, idealistic and powerful, but not free from lust. Though Chaumalji had arranged for a large and comfortable tent for Ragini, the tent for Padmaji and her daughters was smaller. There was another row of tents for foreign tourists. Sucheta from Mauritius, Deepa from Holland and Vishakha from Surinam were staying in them. Sucheta‟s ancestors were from Bihar. The British government had taken them to Mauritius as labourers. Since then her brother and sister-in-law and she herself had become citizens there. Ragini got along well with them. She put aside her wealthy upbringing and mixed with them as a local. “Now you are the citizen of your adopted country... India is a foreign country for you.” Ragini once remarked as they sat in Sucheta‟s tent. “Why, why is India a foreign country for me? So what if we live in Mauritius. We belong to India. Visit Mauritius sometime, Ragini. You will feel as if you are in India. There is a Ganga Talab. People call it Pari Talab. It is said that fairies come there at night. Actually, it was formed after a volcanic eruption. Our ancestors filled it with holy water from the Ganges and named it Ganga Talab after mother Ganga. On the auspicious day of Shivratri, water from the Ganga Talab is carried in kanwars and taken to the temple of Lord Shiva in Mauritius. The temple itself is at the edge of the pond but Nandi is at its door. From there, if you curl your finger and make a small circle with your thumb, you can see the huge Shivaling through it.” What a miracle... and it‟s even more astonishing that people separated by thousands of miles from their country for more than a hundred and fifty years, still have such faith.” A distant song could be heard from a transistor radio but the breeze made it seem to be nearer than it was. „Ganga maiya tohe piyari chadaibe... Saiya se kar de milaniya.‟ Deepa was keen on discussing her country, Holland... “Ragini, have you ever been to Holland?” Ragini recalled Amsterdam. The country was below sea level and had a lot of flowers and windmills. She had ridden a bicycle along the roads with Deena. “Every Indian house there has a statue of Hanuman and there are many Indians there. There are more than sixty temples. My ancestors belong to Kashmir but I am visiting India for the first time with my husband Virendra.” The sky was full of stars and Deepa and Sucheta‟s hearts were steeped in religious faith. Vishakha was quiet and thoughtful. Ragini began exploring her heart... her life-long loneliness in which she had endured the pain of being cheated in love. Today, in Kumbh city, she could not escape her solitude even though the place was milling with people as far as the eye could see. It was late at night but it seemed as if nightfall had refused to descend there. The confluence of devotion, music and meditation, multi-coloured tents, lights, river banks with open bonfires, all created a different atmosphere. Deepa‟s husband, Surendra, dressed in a stunning Kashmiri

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 133 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM kurta-payjama approached them... “Deepa, there will be a meeting call Aparvasi Bhartwasi tomorrow, for all NRIs. “Will you come, Ragini? Asked Deepa. “Ragini is from London. She is British. By the way, how is it that you have an Indian name?” asked Surendra curiously. Mother Ganges knows the truth, so why hide it from these people? Ragini mused. “I‟m an Indian. My father was a Bengali Hindu and mother British.” Ragini spoke frankly “Will you have dinner with us today?” asked an overwhelmed Vishakha. Dinner had been arranged for in her tent. They all sat down in a circle with large leaves that were to serve as plates. Ragini was perplexed when Vishakha placed one in front of her. She noticed that Sucheta had sprinkled a little water on hers and wiped it clean with a piece of cloth. “They are made of Plash leaves. It blooms during the Holi festival. The numerous red flowers and black stems make it appear as if there are no leaves on the trees. Every branch is covered with red flowers and the entire forest looks as if it is on fire.” Food was served... golden fried pooris, mango pickle potato vegetable with peas and kheer. Ragini was tasting such food after a very long time. When Deena was alive, she used to serve such food for breakfast. She had not returned to India and had stayed in London only to look after Ragini.

***

Ragini was taking photographs of the royal bath, along with a few foreign photographers. Only the heads of people could be seen rising above the waves of the Ganges, or waist high Naga sages who had come there riding on a procession of elephants, horses, chariots and palkies. How strange their names were? Mahanirvani, Niranjani, Juna Nirvani, Digambar, Nirmohi, Naya Panchayti, Bada Panchayti... Oh, very complicated... vast and boundless. Ragini was taken aback when she saw a Naga sadhu attack a Japanese photographer with his trishul. Instinctively, she ran forward to save him as a few people caught hold of his trishul. “Baba, please forgive him.” The red-eyed Naga stood there staring... ”I told you not to take my photographs... you are coming in the way of my penance.” The Japanese was trembling as the Naga returned to the banks of the holy Ganges, his nostrils still flaring with rage. Ragini joined the Japanese whom she had befriended only a few hours ago. He too was amazed at the curious atmosphere of Kumbhnagar. They were both overwhelmed by the thronging millions. Kusumakarji seemed to be everywhere; wherever Ragini went... she was surprised at his sincerity in playing the role of her bodyguard. Everything was a surprise. The holy Ganges seemed luke warm to the devotees and they seemed to be mocking the cold weather. After all, why do these people take a holy bath on a new moon night of Mauniamavasya? Was there a scientific reason behind it? Kusumakarji explained, “It is believed that taking a holy bath on Maunamavasya night opens the doors to heaven, people receive salvation and are release from the cycle of birth and death.” “Do you also believe in rebirth?” “It is not in our hands, but our religion teaches us so.” “But, don‟t you have your own reasoning?” “Madam, it is futile to look for logic in this matter. We will learn the truth only after death. If we follow our religion faithfully, we must believe it without question.”

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Kusumakarji is right. Religion is founded on faith and that is why these people are attracted to this place like a magnet. She too had come here in the faith that she would see all this in its true form... The crowds of foreign tourists who had come there after traversing oceans and mountains had mingled in the crowd after applying tilak bhaboot on their foreheads and donning rudraksh garlands around their necks like the Hindus. Was it all for show? Impossible... this could not be just a display... it was a belief that they had imbibed over the centuries. The river Saraswati had disappeared from the map and geologists had to use satellite imagery to find its origin. Its disappearance was not so recent either, that it could be easily found. The Vedas contain verses of praise for the heavenly confluence of the three rivers. The doors of heaven appear to open when the Ganges, in its golden waves, Yamuna in its dark ones and Saraswati in its white flow, embrace each other. This faith has existed since three thousand years before Christ. Ragini and use all possible scientific logic but she could not find an answer to this great faith. The producers of hugely popular shows of Michael Jackson and Madonna could never attract such crowds... and here, people from remote villages arrive with only bales of cloth on their heads... they cut across all social classes and have only one desire, that of taking a holy dip in the Ganges. They even put little toddlers into the cold water. Even the thought of it gave Ragini goosebumps. The Japanese tourist continued taking pictures of the scene. “Look Madam, what a wonderful scene... and you can enjoy it with this maghai paan.” Kusumakarji offered her two paans from his silver container. As she chewed the paan, Ragini observed the akhadas of the hermits and Nagas. The huge gates of the akhadas seemed to belong to palaces and forts. They displayed their finery with festoons, competing with each other. There were numerous cars and jeeps parked outside them. Saffron coloured curtains adorned their windows, all organised by devotees and babas who had renounced all material things and conquered their inner lust. A few Naga sadhus puffed away at their tobacco pipes. They beckoned them to come near. “From where have you both come?” “Madam has come from London. Here name is Ragini.” Kusumakarji replied. The sage stared at him angrily as if asking, “Did I ask you?” Kusumakarji stepped aside humiliated. The Japanese tourist stepped forward, “Baba, I have come from Japan.” Both of them touched his feet and seated themselves nearby. The sage asked Ragini, “Will you have this chilam? Take a puff and press my feet. Ragini smoked his pipe. She had been noticing the tradition of pressing feet ever since she had arrived at Kumbhanagar. She pressed the sage‟s feet. His feet were a shiny black, he had no clothes on, but the soft touch of her delicate hands did not arouse the feeling of lust in him as it did in Sam. Sam used to be aroused easily whenever she touched him and would embrace her in his passion. These sages don‟t seem to have any physical pleasure. The sage sat up, his hair falling over his back. He twisted it into a bun and said, “Massage my back too.” The Japanese tourist called up some courage and requested, “Baba, please allow me to take a photograph of you with madam.” The sage looked up at the sky merrily. “Yes, take a photograph. This body will mix in the earth after death. Your camera will not be able to capture the soul which gets salvation by abandoning all desires.” ‗Ganga ke nahaye se kaun nar tar gaye, meenahu na tari jako, jal hi mein vas hai.‘

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Overwhelmed by emotion, Ragini fell at the sage‟s feet. She said in her mind “I want peace of mind, Baba.” The Naga sage placed his hand over her head, “Get up. Give up your desires first.” Ragini sat with him for a long time. Had Baba understood her innermost feelings? Was it possible? But how? How had this sage reached the depths of her heart? Ragini bowed her head in front of him.

***

Ragini arose early in the morning. Peeping out of her tent, she was surprised to see thousands of birds fluttering their wings and moving around on the waves of triveni. A thick blanket of fog had covered the earth and the sky. The lights of Kumbhanagar blinked in the fog. Ragini took her camera and walked quickly towards triveni. She took a picture of the melard and surkhab birds. Suddenly, Sucheta appeared before her, “Good morning, Ragini. You are an early riser too?” “No, it‟s Kumbhanagar, that‟s why. Nobody can sleep late here.” “The breeze is so chilly. Aren‟t you feeling cold?” Ragini smiled and looked towards the East, feeling the warmth of her woollen pullover, shawl and cap. The sun‟s rays were trying to penetrate the fog. She was accustomed to snowfall and rain. In London, it was rare to see the sun for many days at a stretch. But here, every morning had the sun. She noticed some men and women submerged waist-deep in the triveni. They were pouring water with their palms, offering it to the Sun. The scene mesmerised Ragini, generating music in her veins and intoxicating them. The foggy breeze flowed into her heart and created music in rhythm with its beats. She was taken aback. What was her heart drowning in? Was it the essence of spirituality? Was it the nectar that was poured out of a pitcher when the oceans were churned? Suddenly, the sweet tune of a flute wafted in the air. A few villagers, sitting on the sand at the banks of the river, were singing devotional songs to the tune. She was attracted to it and went and sat with them. Sucheta too followed her. They sat there in their woollen clothes, completely immersed in a divine pleasure. Ragini had read Jaidev and spent sleepless nights reading his literature. She was falling in love with Sam. That was when she was in college. Jaidev‘s writings had helped her fall deeper and deeper in love with Sam. How meaningful his words were... Separated from Radha, Krishn speaks from his heart to her friend, “Go and ask the queen of my heart Radherani, until when will I have to bear the pain of her separation.” Mesmerised, the friend went to Radha and cried, “Radherani, Krishn is sad and wants to meet you. The breeze, with its sandalwood fragrance, is making him feel helpless. When the buds smile, his heart languishes. He is like a fish out of water, thrashing in the slivery moonlight. When black beetles buzz, he becomes restless and shuts his ears. He is sitting in the forest like an ascetic and chanting Radhe-Radhe... Go Radherani and apply the balm of your love on his forlorn heart.” Ragini remained captivated in Jaidev‘s writings for weeks together. She could not see beyond Krishn. Her Mama too might have sung Jaidev‘s songs to her father... both of them must have played the flute... in this very same melody... which had mesmerized her. The devotional song was over and the villagers were surprised at seeing her in their midst. She smiled and, taking the flute from them, asked, “Shall I play the flute?” The villagers nodded in approval.

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She tried very hard but could not play the flute. She blew hard but to no avail. The villagers gaped at her. Very soon, Kusumakarji came looking for her, “Madam you are here? Come, the boat is ready to take you out on the river Ganges. Ragini looked at Sucheta. Sucheta understood, “No, you go Ragini, I am not even ready yet. Everyone in the tent is sleeping. I will go back.” Padmaji, Sulekha and Saudamini were already seated in the boat. There were jalebees and kachauris in bamboo baskets covered with leaves. There was also a thermos flask full of coffee. Ragini noticed that Kusumakarji wasn‟t giving her any opportunity to complain. The sun was setting behind the mango and jamun trees as the boat returned to the river bank. Padmaji yawned and got off the rocking boat, “I will rest now.” “Yes, you are tired, Padma... go and take some rest. Sulekha, give your mother some medicines and tea and take her to the tent to sleep.” Kusumakarji instructed before turning to Ragini and explaining, “She was brought up in comfort, that is why she had diabetes and high blood pressure. She has come for a long journey after such a long time and it has been enough for her. Now she will not get up until tomorrow.” Ragini too went to her tent to freshen up.

***

In the evening, Vishakha, Sucheta, Deepa and Kusumakarji went with Ragini to a grand musical event organised under the Chalo Re Man Ganga Yamuna Teere banner. In the teeming crowd of millions, Sucheta held Ragini‟s ice-cold hand. Ragini‟s freezing palms thawed in Sucheta‟s warmth. The melting frost began flowing like a stream of love, intimacy and music; like another Ganges descending from the sky. The entire crowd was swaying to the rhythm of the shehnai. “This is Ustad Fateh Ali Khan, the famous flautist.” Kusumakarji said. Ragini had been waiting for Anup Jalota‘s ghazals... his devotional songs touched her heart. She too began swaying her head and humming to his tune. Famous artistes, Hussain brothers, Hari Prasad Chaurasia and Tijjan Bai gave beautiful performances captivating the hearts and minds of music lovers in the crowd. Then came the folk dancers. She saw the folk culture of India in their dances. She had heard of it from Deena and Munmun bua. She knew so much about Indian art that she had no need to ask anyone about it. It made her feel that her father and mother were in her presence playing the iktara and harmonium as she enjoyed the music. The crowd around her could not sense her connection with the music... she was her mother‟s raga; that is why her father had named her Ragini. Ragini and her friends had dinner after the programme and returned to their tents. She went to sleep without changing her dress. She had been awake since early morning and sleep kissed her heavy, closed eyelids and the tent disappeared in the dense fog.

***

In the morning, while sipping tea in an earthen cup, Ragini asked Sucheta and Deepa, “I want to buy some books to learn more about Kumbha... will you come with me? “Ragini, there will be a full moon and there is going to be a special holy bath. We are just about to leave for Sangam. You can go to the book stall, if you like.”

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“Madam, don‟t worry. I will get the books for you.” Kusumakarji offered as if he had to account for all of Ragini‟s activities to Chaumalji. “No, Kusumakarji. I have not come here to rest. If you want to, you can come with me to the book stall.” “Kusumakarji offered her a paan. “Paan? Early in the morning?” “Eat it. It is Maghai Paan. It will dissolve in your mouth.” Most other people at the book stall were foreign tourists like Ragini, who had come to explore India. Ragini met a Danish tourist, Anders. He was on a world tour by bicycle and had come to Prayag to witness the royal bath of Makar Sankranti. The other attraction was Mahakumbh which was being held after a gap of forty years and was about to get over in forty- four days. The special days for the royal bath were Paush Poornima, the kalpavas of Magh Poornima during which meditation and fasting are practiced, Makar Sankranthi, Mauni Amavasya, Vasant Panchami and Shivaratri. Today was the special bath of Poornima in which Sucheta, Surendra, Deepa and Vishakha were going to participate. They were to fast after the bath, not having even tea. Ragini was lost in thought as she picked a book off a shelf. Coincidentally, Anders reached for the same book. They reached it at the same time and looked at each other laughing. “I am from London... Ragini Rose Blair.” Anders shook her hand briskly. “Are you also interested in Indian spirituality?” “Of course. Indian spirituality is very interesting, unlike in other countries. I have come here to understand, experience and test it. I have travelled thirty-five thousand kilometres on my bicycle and have been amazed during my visits to Vrindavan, Mathura, Somnath, Dwarka, Sarnath and Banaras. There is magic in the air of these places. Do you know that we eat beef but the cow is worshipped here?” Yes, I know. I have learned a lot during my research... I have researched Krishn which has not been easy. I want to visit every place associated with Krishn, especially Vrindavan, the city of cows and gopals, their caretakers. Radha and Krishn‟s presence can be felt there even now. The Krishn of Jaidev, Soor and Meera.” Anders called for some coffee to escape his tiredness and the cold breeze. Ragini began looking for Kusumakarji who seemed to have disappeared. Offering her some coffee in an earthen cup, Anders said, “I want to travel all around India and take back the message of this distinctive, spiritual truth and culture of tolerance back to my country. They finished their coffee and strolled out onto the sand. “You must have heard about Buddhism.” “I am very impressed by it. I know that the Dalai Lama is visiting tomorrow. I want to meet him.” “Then you must visit Darjeeling, Sikkim and Meghalaya too. You will learn more about this religion in their math.” “The Dalits in this place are followers of Buddha.” Kusumakarji interjected suddenly from behind. “Arre, you startled me. You disappear in a moment and appear in the next. “That is my speciality, Madam.”

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It was evening by the time they returned to their tents. The visit had been a memorable one, roaming around and tasting the local delights. Vishakha was pacing outside her tent. “Where were you Ragini, dinner is ready in Sucheta‟s tent. Go and change quickly.” “Oh, we didn‟t know.” “Of course you didn‟t. It‟s a surprise for you.” Vishakha helped Ragini dress up in a saree. She applied a large bindi on her forehead. “No one will say that you are British, you look like a Bengali.” I am a Bengali, Ragini wanted to reply but left her thoughts unsaid. Sucheta and Deepa looked like tapasvinis with tilaks on their foreheads. Their faces were glowing after the bath in the holy Ganges. Seeing Ragini, they chirped, “Oh my God. How beautiful you look Ragini.” Why are all of you so affectionate? Don‘t you think that the British ruined India? They forced you to leave your country and sent you off to those islands as labourers. Even then you don‘t consider them as your enemy? What kind of earth are you made of? “Come, sit here Ragini. Why are you standing?” Sucheta‟s voice startled Ragini. Thank God she hadn‟t said what she had been thinking. Ragini sat on the cot feeling a little uncomfortable in her saree. “Ragini, tomorrow, we will return to our countries. We don‟t know if we‟ll meet again. We want to enjoy our time together tonight.” Sucheta said as she sat beside her. “Yes, you said that you were leaving tomorrow.” “The world is a stage and we are all actors. The play is over and the characters are no more.” Everyone laughed out loud at Deena‟s words. “That‟s not true, Deepa. Life is a beautiful voyage. No one knows what will happen tomorrow.” Said Vishakha as she began singing the song “Zindagi ek safar hai suhana, yahan kal kya ho kisne jaana?” “I have never thought about tomorrow but I‟m afraid of separation.” “Oh Ragini, Please don‟t get emotional. We like you, but darling, life isn‟t lived like this. Come to Mauritius sometime. It is just like India.” “Why not? It is inhabited by Indians, after all.” Deepa said proudly. The sky was bright with moonlight. The grains of sand on the beach sparkled like diamonds. Ragini came out of her tent to take in the scene. The other women were busy preparing for dinner. The cold breeze made Ragini shiver. Surendra was sitting there, covered in a blanket. He had taken many photographs that day but now he wanted to take a few of Ragini. A voice called out for them from inside. Dinner was ready. Surendra sprinkled salt and pepper on his baked potatoes and took out a bottle of rum. “Will you give me company?” “We have come here for a religious purpose. We‟re not supposed to drink here.” “This is only medicine for the cold. Look at the hermits, how they rely on bhang and their chilam pipes.” And Surendra offered them a peg of rum each. “I hope we all meet again.” They all said ‗Cheers‘ in the chilly night and drew closer to each other as they had their drinks.

***

The next morning, they left for Delhi, after breakfast and tea. They had to catch flights for Mauritius and Holland and Vishakha‟s flight to Surinam was from Bombay. She had to board a

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 139 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM train for Bombay in the evening. Until then, she had planned to visit Allahabad. They embraced each other and cried before leaving. Such a thing was possible only in a sacred place like India. Their tears were of attachment and belonging that they had imbibed from each other, while staying together. Otherwise, in this glamour-filled world, who cares for one another? On the one hand there was London, full of prosperity which was expended in chasing wealth, expanding the regime, trading, factories, industry and machinery. It had become like a racehorse in an oasis, seeking the essence of happiness in life amidst the glitter of worldly attractions and on the other hand there was India, a country teeming with love and affection, filled to the brim... They went away and Ragini was left alone in the sands of solitude.

***

Ragini rose early in the morning. She was surprised at how early she had woken up. Was it the effect of those divine mantras which permeate the atmosphere of Kumbhanagar and stir the soul? In London, she could never open her eyes before having a cup of tea. But there was a reason for that. She used to work on her research late into the night. Sometimes, she would find herself in Vrindavan, the city of Lord Krishn, the lead protagonist of her thesis. In her imagination, falling raindrops made the flowers, leaves, woods, lanes and bylanes wet in their rhythm, drenching people‟s clothes and their hearts. She would lose herself in the melody of Krishn‟s flute and finally fall asleep on her soft, cushioned bed. How could she describe the flute? Many a times she had felt its sound pierce her heart and drive her into a state of frenzy. She came out of her tent to look at the beautiful scenery. The chirping of birds filled the grey morning, inspiring her with a new energy. The Dalai Lama was to arrive today. She got dressed quickly and went out for a stroll around the sangam of triveni. People had already started taking dips in the holy water of the Ganges. The Dalai Lama and his religious teachers had come there to meet the Shankaracharya of Kachi Kamkotti. They visited many places after the holy bath, attending various programmes. Ragini followed them but she could not get a glimpse of the Dalai Lama because of the huge crowd. It was in the evening, at the time of the grand aarti of triveni, that she found herself in the presence of the Dalai Lama. She gazed at him, unable to blink. He was a magnificent personality... his every glance full of magic. She greeted him with folded hands. He was on a mission to spread the Buddhist faith to all corners of the world... how vast the world was and she was only a drop in the ocean... an entire ocean made of drops like her. “So, did you see him?” Kusumakarji stood there chewing a paan. “Munmun madam rang from Calcutta. She was trying to call your number but it was switched off.” “Yes... ” she kept her phone switched off because she did not want to be disturbed during the mahakumbh. She did not even like the fact that Kusumakarji remained with her all the time. Right now, she was waiting for Anders, who had gone to have his bicycle brakes and chain checked. “I‟ll call Bua... but right now I want to see the temple of Lord Hanuman.” “Padma will also come. She is waiting for us at the stall. Come with me.” “Let Anders come back first.” Anders arrived, pushing through the crowd and eating bhajia pakodas at the same time. Ragini laughed at the sight, “You look like Gopal.”

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You‟re saying that because you‟re planning to go to Vrindavan. You see Gopal everywhere. You should go soon. Lord Krishn is everywhere, in the by lanes, Kusumsarovar¸Parsoli of Surdas, Danghati, in the Govardhan hills and on the Kadamb trees on the banks of the Yamuna. There is love everywhere... magnificent... beyond imagination. Ragini looked towards the horizon. Oh God! She too could have experienced so much love. True and devoted love... but she was duped. She loved somebody but got nothing in return. Her innocent, naive heart had been shattered. She had misunderstood Sam, taking him to be genuine but he had turned out to be selfish and greedy. He was a killer... a destroyer of true love. “We will give you the guide book, madam. Apart from Vrindavan, there are many villages where you can experience Brij culture. There is a village called Kosi on the Mathura road off the Delhi highway. From there you can go to Krishn‟s Nandgaon and Radha‟s Barsana. There is another village, Banchari from where Balram, the elder brother of Krishnji hailed. The world famous folk singers of Haryana belong to this village.” “Wow, Kusumakarji! You know a lot about these places.” Kusumakarji smiled. The evening stretched wearily towards the west. Padmaji was waiting impatiently. “Bhai Saa... you are so late.” “Sorry Padmaji for keeping you waiting. Ragini held her hands and asked, “Where are those two?” “Both the girls have disappeared since afternoon.” Everyone laughed at Padmaji‟s reply. The chilly night was approaching slowly. They covered the distance from the sangam banks to the fort and reached the temple gate. It was crowded but special arrangements had been made for Ragini. She was surprised at seeing Lord Hanuman‟s idol in a reclining position. She wondered why the idol had been made like this. But who could give her an answer in this crowd? A person who looked like a pandit made his way towards her, delighted at the prospect of making some money off two foreign tourists... “You look like foreigners?” “Can you please tell us why Hanumanji is in this reclining position?” “Yes, yes... I‟ll explain it all right now. It is a very old story... from the times of Babur and Akbar. A Baghambari Baba use to live in this place. He walked around with a tiger beside him. The ferocious tiger was like a pet for him. Baba used to wear cloth made of tiger skin and used to spread it on the ground for sitting and lying down. Once, he was seated while meditating and he had a vision that a statue of Hanumanji was under the earth where he was seated. He had the spot dug up the next day, but the more they dug the more the statue of Hanumanji receded deep into the earth. They tried to make the statue upright but it would not stand. Perhaps, Hanumanji wanted to rest. Baba stopped digging and kept the statue in the same position. He performed the pran pratishth ceremony and began worshipping it.” “What is pran pratishth? “Life is infused into the statue by chanting shlokas. It is brought to life... He is a living Hanumanji. Ask Him for whatever you want. All your wishes will be fulfilled.” “Anders and Ragini were amazed. Life in a statue... the Indians know how to put life in a statue... incredible... they couldn‟t believe it. Ragini approached the statue slowly... she bent down and touched it... a cold breeze seemed to tug at her hair from behind. The priest placed his

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 141 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM hand on her head, “May you have a long life. Get up, daughter... give dakshina, whatever you feel like. Hanumanji will solve all your difficulties. Ragini closed her eyes. “What kind of difficulties?” She was beyond all problems. Now, she had to discover love, from every pore of the universe and her first stop was India. The soil here was made of love... love and miracles... like the pran pratishtha in the statue... like snake charmers catching serpents in their baskets and going door-to-door during August, displaying the snakes for worship... like the ghosts or devi which possess a person‟s body... how strange was that? So curious? Munmun Bua had said that the black magic of Bengal was famous. The long hair and eyelids like lotus petals that Bengali ladies had, hypnotised people and mesmerised them. Padmaji gave Ragini a mink coat when they came out of the temple, “Madam, put this coat on. It is too cold outside.” Ragini was touched be her love... such concern for a complete stranger.

***

There was a lot of commotion at the banks of the Triveni. The police had taken a foreign girl in their custody. Ragini was strolling along the banks of the sangam. Kusumakarji and Padmaji had gone to get a train ticket for Ragini and buy some things for Munmun from the Allahabad market. The previous night, Munmun had reminded them that the inauguration of the Academy was only two days away and that they should return. “Yes, I remember... don‟t worry... I‟ll reach there in time.” “You have been there for so long and must be bored by now.” “Bored? Every day here is more memorable than the previous one.” Not memorable, it is unforgettable... and I thought you will get bored and return in two days.” “I‟ll come back and tell you everything, Bua... you‟ll be surprised.” Munmun laughed. It was Anders‟s last day in Kumbhanagar. He would leave for Bangalore on his bicycle, next morning. Suddenly, a villager screamed. “Arre, she is totally nude.” The crowd was enthused. There was commotion and excitement at the prospect of seeing a nude girl. People ran helter-skelter. The girl was a foreigner. Her slim, white body was beautiful, with no clothes on. She had tied up her hair and mixed sand in it like naga hermits and was wearing garlands made of coral and sea-shells. A crowd gathered around her as she wondered what the commotion was all about. If naga hermits could remain nude, why not her? As she saw the crowd swelling, she began to cover her body with sand from the banks of the sangam. Then, the police came and took her away. Ragini heaved a sigh of relief and looked at Anders. He was smoking a cigarette, “the poor girl was humiliated because of the difference in cultures.” “But what‟s her fault, if the naga sadhus can...” Ragini could not complete her sentence. Anders interrupted, “Naga sages... the common man isn‟t roaming around naked. They live the hard life of ascetics, they overcome their lust...” “But what do they achieve by doing this” The moon was absolutely still in the sky. Its reflection was gently bobbing up and down in the waters of the Ganges.

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“What do we achieve by remaining in the clutches of our lust? There comes a time in our lives when everything slips from our grasp. We become empty-handed. Anders became engrossed in thought. He was trying to recall something in his own life. “Don‟t you feel that life is simple and innocent? If you live it the right way.” “Do you know the way? Can you tell of the ways in which you have lived yours? Was everything easy for you?” They reached a tea stall. Ragini sipped the sweet and thick tea, “I‟ve had an abnormal life all along, because of a few things that happened.” “Everyone has their problems but we feel our own sorrows are the greatest. We‟re so selfish that we don‟t think of others‟ lives that too are full of pain.” A procession from the keertan mandali passed by chanting... Ho bolo Ram Ram Ram Ram, Hare Hare Krishn, Krishn Krishn Hare Hare... japo Ram Ram... “Shall we go now? Your Kusumakarji hasn‟t returned. He‟s a very interesting character.” Alan placed his cigarette between his lips and said, “Good bye Ragini... we‟ll meet again if it is God‟s will.” “I wish... the world is not so big.” Ragini replied softly. “It is wide.” Anders took a deep breath, looked at Ragini and took a last puff of his cigarette before stamping it on the ground. A few embers flew out of the burning tobacco and disappeared into a void.

***

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9 When Ragini returned to Calcutta, she found Munmun sick and lying in bed. “This has been going on for the last three or four years. The pain increases in winter.” Satyajit was seated beside her, feeding her broth. “Why didn‟t you tell me on the phone, Bua? I would‟ve come earlier.” “What would you have done coming back earlier? Arre Satya, tell her I get this disease every year in winter.” “What kind of disease is it?” “The same thing, tightness in the chest and bronchitis. Her lungs are weak.” “Satya... only lungs, not the heart.” Munmun interrupted. “Do you have a heart, Munmun?” teased Satyajit and everyone laughed. All the doors and windows were shut, yet a strong, biting cold draught was blowing in through a small crack. “The pooja is day after tomorrow and you are... ” “I will be all right. All the arrangements are also done. You are going to Mathura after the pooja, aren‟t you Ragini?” “Yes, Bua.” “How was Kumbhanagar?” “Arre Bua, it was amazing. I can‟t explain it in words. Every day, each moment a feeling grew in me as if Mathura is beckoning.” Ragini‟s voice seemed full of fond memories of Kumbhanagar. It would never fade away in her life. The maid served tea and informed them that the priest had arrived and wanted to explain something about the pooja to Satyajit. “Uncle, the pooja will be with great pomp and show. I want huge hoardings to be placed in prominent spots so that the whole of Calcutta gets to know about the Academy‟s inauguration.” Munmun grimaced as she swallowed a bitter concoction. She shut her eyes tightly as she said, “She is right. We will make a big song and dance about it and relive the days of dada, when he worked so hard for his Academy and didi played the tanpura to accompany him.”

***

It was more than just a pooja. It took Munmun and Satyajit back to their days with Chandidas and Diana. Munmun cried as she sang the verses of the prayer. She could not bear to relive those days. Many of Chandidas‟s friends had passed away by now. The few who were alive, were present and pleased with the occasion. They praised Ragini, “That is like a true daughter. She has made her parents immortal.” Ragini bowed her head before the portraits of Diana and Chandidas. Munmun had not allowed sandalwood garlands to be placed on them because she felt that they were immortal and alive in the Academy. Dusk had set in and the shadows of trees along the Academy building were wavering. It would be dark soon. Winter days were always short. The trees swayed animatedly in the cold breeze. Satyajit covered her with a sweater, coat and shawl and helped her to the car. Ragini looked at the old couple and lowered her eyes in reverence.

***

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A huge burden, which had been with her for many years, seemed to have been lifted off Ragini‟s heart. She felt that starting the Academy had been a fine tribute to her parents. Munmun and Satyajit would apply for government recognition in order to hold university-level examinations there. Ragini was to leave for Mathura the next day. Munmun coughed and said hoarsely, “Don‟t forget to bring khurchan and pedas for me.” Satyajit laughed when he heard her. Since she had a burning desire to visit Mathura and Vrindavan, Ragini could not go to Shantiniketan. She had to visit Jaidev‘s village as well. She wanted to experience Jaidev‟s personality herself; someone whose hut‟s roof had been repaired by Krishn Himself. The hut‟s roof had been badly damaged and it had miraculously repaired itself overnight but a strand of the same rope with which it had been patched was inexplicably found in the hand of Krishn‟s statue. Jaidev was very dear to Krishn. He took great care of his devotee. When Jaidev was writing Geet Govind, he got stuck at one point and could not write any more. There were no more words that would come to him. There seemed to be an empty void all around. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, but he wrote not a single word. Jaidev became very restless... what had happened to him? Would Geet Govind remain incomplete? Was his Krishn annoyed with him? The sky was covered with clouds and lightning shuddered like his heart. Drops of rain played a melancholy tune on his iktara. Jaidev re-read his manuscript and reached the place where he had stopped writing. And lo and behold, there was a verse scribbled in an unfamiliar handwriting next to his poem. Jaidev could not believe it and looked at the verse in astonishment. It was the same verse which he had been trying to compose. He sang the verse and reached Krishn‟s statue to bow before Him and there he saw ink marks in the right finger of the statue. Jaidev smiled, “So you have written it, Gopal.” He cried sentimentally. And so did Ragini when she read it. She couldn‟t sleep all night. A wave of emotion seemed to have drenched her.

***

Ragini‟s ears were filled with the melody of the flute as soon as she stepped onto the soil of Mathura. Cows roamed freely and the people around fed them with fresh, green grass, every now and then touching their heads and then their own chest. Ragini was mesmerised by the peaceful vision of the cows... how lively they were and their eyes... full of kindness, like limpid pools full of water from the snowy mountains. She looked at them feeding their calves in front of the temple of Dwarkiadheesh. The stream of milk from their udders flowed along with the tears of love and affection from their eyes. They looked like the embodiment of maternal love when they turned towards their calves, alerted by their mooing calls. How tastefully she used to eat their meat... it is a sin to eat beef and she had been committing this sin for years together. Her heart ached in pain at the thought. She approached a cow and felt its spotted skin. Her hands folded by themselves and she paid obeisance to the cow, touching it the same way she had seen the Hindus do it.Then she bought a bale of grass from a boy nearby and began feeding the cow. It ate from her hands seeming very comfortable in the process, its calf suckling underneath. The boy stood watching with his brother. “Its name is Kabaree.” “The cow‟s name?”

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“Yes, it has spots all over its skin, so everyone calls it Kabaree and the calf is Mataroo. It is very naughty. Will you eat some rabaree... they make it with rose water, it is very tasty.” Ragini laughed at the boy‟s words. She offered him a fifty rupee note and said, take this and eat rabaree on my behalf. The boy‟s eyes lit up. Foreigners came there everyday but seldom was someone so generous. He saluted Ragini and ran towards the shop with his brother. Ragini explored the lanes in which Krishn might have roamed in the past. The shops that lined the lanes of Mathura were stocked with milk, curds, rabaree, khurchan and pedas. Milk boiled in large vessels next to piles of earthen pots and bowls made of leaves. There was a constant sweet fragrance in the air and it blew around like the melody of a flute, making the trees and flowers shiver in delight. How strange this city was? People dressed in yellow clothes and with tripund marks on their foreheads roamed around chanting „Krishn... Krishn‟. So this was the city of Jaidev. Chitanya Mahaprabhu had also discovered this city. The stream of devotion that flowed from Bengal had drenched the whole of India. Ragini‟s boarding and lodging had been arranged for in ISKCON. She had not asked for any security arrangements to be made. She did not want anyone to be looking after her. She wanted to roam around freely everywhere. She would find the answers to all her questions here. Yashodhara, from Jammu, was staying in the next room. Her husband had been martyred in the Kargil war and she had come here for peace of mind. They had been introduced during dinner and had gotten to know each other well. The strands of mutual camaraderie loosened as they spoke. “For how many days will you be here, Yashodhara?” “I‟ll be here until I explore Mathura and Vrindavan. Let the storm within me subside. Only then will I return. And what about you?” “Ragini smiled. The phone rang... it was Rati. Ragini returned to her room, her phone close to her ear. Rati asked affectionately, “When will you return mom? You‟re staying there like you belong there? ‗Yes, I belong here‘, Ragini wanted to say.

***

After a great deal of effort, Pandit Damodar, who had come from Canada, agreed to give her information on ISKCON.He had arrived in Mathura twelve years ago, mesmerised in his devotion to Krishn and had stayed on here.There was an ethnic Indian atmosphere in the room with its marble floor laid out like a chess board. They sat on high cushioned mattresses reclining on round cushions, Damodar pandit,Yashodhara and Ragini... Ragini observed Damodar‟s face very carefully. It had lost all traces of his being American. “May I know your American name?” Ragini asked in English. Pandit Damodar replied in Hindi, “Forget about that now... I have also forgotten. Now I am a devotee of Krishn. We are recognised by our devotion to Him.” Yashodhara was surprised his proficiency in Hindi. Pandit Damodar explained a lot about ISKCON, most of which she had already come across while writing her thesis in London. Ragini had commenced her thesis work so late that the organisation had already started functioning by then.

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“ISKCON was founded in 1972. Our Guru Acharya Bhakti Vedant Swami Prabuhpadji discarded his human form in Vrindavan and left for his heavenly abode on 14th November,1977. There are nearly two hundred and fifty temples and two hundred centres spread across the world especially in Mumbai, Los Angeles, New York and London.There is a city like Vrindavan in West Virginia where the temple of Lord Krishn is made of gold and thirty two types of marble.There is a statue of an elephant at the entrance of this temple, surrounded by beautiful mountains and green fields.The windows are made in the shape of peacocks.A special feature of this temple is that its walls and roof are made of Italian marble. Millions of devotees come here every year with a desire to get salvation.You must be familiar with the Swami Narayan temple of London. That temple was constructed not by ISCKON but by the Swami Narayan Trust. Nevertheless, it is a temple of Lord Krishn. In fact, it was constructed in India.” “In India? So it was constructed in India and established in London! A miracle... ” Yashodhara said immediately. “No madam... everybody receives the strength and mercy of Krishn. Fifteen hundred sculptors from Rajasthan created this most exquisite work of art on twenty six hundred pieces of Italian marble, in India. They were then sent to London by ship with the marble slabs. The temple was then constructed on the principles of Vaastu Shartra. It is now the biggest temple in the U.K.” Ragini could visualize the Swami Narayan Temple. The splendour of the temple, the gallery and the blue carpet on the staircase had been etched in her heart when she had first visited the temple. She had stood with closed eyes for a long time in front of the statues of Radha-Krishn, Gaura-Shiv and Hanumanji. She had visited the temple again with Munmun. Munmun had sat down on the carpet and meditated but Ragini had been lost in the depictions of the leela of Shri Krishn painted on the ceiling. It had been very difficult to keep track of time in the grandeur of the temple. She had felt unable to leave that place. When Munmun arose from her meditation, she was surprised to see her there. “For a while I forgot that I am in London. See, Krishn came to London with me.” “You always say, Bua, that Krishn is everywhere in this world.” “Yes he is... but when the mind thinks like this, it feels good.” Ragini and Munmun were feeling very light while walking down the staircase and crossing the lawn. There were coffee shops and a few snack stalls there, but they both had Lord Krishn‘s prasad in their palms. After receiving prasad nobody wants to have anything else. Yashodhara pressed Ragini‟s hand when she saw her lost in thought. Ragini was taken aback as she looked at Yashodhara. Damodar was still speaking... “The aim of ISCKON is to spread the message of unity and brotherhood to every person. In this Kaaliyug the path to get salvation is to do sankeertan and receive the prasad of Krishn. This is the only mantra.” “Pandit ji” I have a question. Why has ISCKON chosen Krishn and not Ram,Allah or Jesus Christ?” Damodar was delighted by Yashodhara‟s question. “Aah... Krishn is the complete soul. He was very powerful, handsome, a scholar, philosopher, fighter, a good emperor and a great lover. He was accomplished in all sixty four arts, but was unattached to the world. That is why we think of Krishn as the path to salvation.The

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 147 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM mantra of Krishn is good... the name Krishn is good... we all are the servants of God without discriminating between any caste and creed.” “So that means that anybody can join ISCKON... even if thay are Brahmins,Shudras, Kshtriyas or Vaishyas... ” Yashodhara was still as inquisitive as earlier. Ragini‟s curiosity had been satisfied. Pandit Damodar smiled at Yashodhara‟s question, “Where do we find pure Brahmins nowadays? We do not even get pure ghee which is used for the havan ritual... not even vanaspati ghee is pure.” “Yes... that is true.” “This era belongs to disco, fast food, noise, parties and films. If we distribute baskets of mangoes in every household as a prasad, people doubt us and question why expensive mangoes are being distributed free of cost... are they poisonous? Not only this, they doubt our institution too, thinking of us as wandering hippies or smugglers... but such thinking is their ill-fate. We want to spread the ancient Indian culture across the whole world. This is the only culture which shows us the true path to happiness, peace and salvation.” “What is your daily routine at ISCKON? I have seen that the men, women and children associated with your institution have all adopted the Indian way of life.” “Yes, we are all devotees of Krishn.We get up early in the morning.We perform the mangal aarti after taking a bath. Here is the card of our programme and routine for the whole day.” Pandit Damodar gave a card to each of them, “We take Krishn prasad at nine o‟clock every day.” “Krishn prasad?” “Yes... we have an affiliated organisation called Hare Krishn Food For Life International which distributes the wholesome Krishn prasad to millions of people all over world.This food is purely vegetarian and cooked with nutritious food grains, ghee and butter.” Damodar Pandit shifted in his seat and studied Ragini‟s face carefully, “I‟m sure you know that the hunger is like an elephant. To control the elephant we send the fragrance of a female elephant in the form of Krishn prasad. It is then that we become perfect devotees. We have to follow a few rules in our devotion.The aarti takes place in the evening. God sleeps in the afternoon from one O‟clock to four O‟clock. The doors of the temple are closed during that period. Our rooms are behind the temple where married people live.” “Married people? We thought you all are hermits. “Yes we are monks.There is a grahast ashram among the four ashrams. Anybody can enter it after completing their education. It is important for married couples to follow the rules of ISCKON. They have to live in the grahast ashram without enjoying worldly luxuries like television, refrigeraters, etc. and remain engrossed in devotion. Their sexual relationship with their wife is only to produce children so that this world becomes full of young devotees of Krishn.The wife is a soul, not a machine for satisfying lust. The real satisfaction is in taking the name of God.” Ragini noticed that Damodar was wearing a saffron coloured dhotee and kurta. There was a tripund on his forehead... short hair on his balding head... a knot in his long plait, a rudraksh garland in his neck and a saffron shawl. Not everyone in ISCKON wore a shawl. “Why is that so?” “This is called yakree. It is a Bengali term and only monks can wear this. Not the grahast, brahmchari or vanprasthi.‖

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 148 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

―Pandit ji, why is the temple called ISCKON? It seems to be a foreign name, doesn‟t it Ragini?” “No... I don‟t think so. Damodar ji... as far as I know, ISCKON is short for „International Society for Krishn Consciousness‟. “You‟re right Ragini ji, perhaps you also know about the Rathyatra.” “Yes I know,the rathyatra happens on the roads in London with great pomp and show. It is very enjoyable. The chariot of Krishn in the front, then the chariot of Subhadra ji and then Balram‟s.” Ragini replied eloquently. Damodar looked at her mesmerized. You are filled with Krishn, madam... Krishn is showering his kripa on you... Hare Krishn... Hare Krishn... Do you know that about five thousand years ago when God Krishn went to meet the gopis, the three of them went in the chariots. It is those scenes that are depicted in the rathyatra. There is so much joy. Every act of God is full of joy. Come, it is time for aarti. Take some Krishn prasad before going.” Damodar drank some water from a copper bowl because his throat had become parched from talking continuously. They went towards the temple. A huge crowd was arriving to attend the aarti. All of Krishn‘s devotees were dancing to the tune of the dholak and the manzeera... Govind Bolo Hari Gopal Bolo... Radharaman Hari Govind Bolo... somebody was giving a commentary on the microphone... The delicate fingers of Hari on a green bamboo flute touches everyone‟s heart... gopis, gwalas... all are entranced... the whole world is drawn to the rhythm of the flute... Baje re muralia baje re Adhar dhare murli pahan motiyan mal re Baje re muraliya Enchanted by the sweet music and grand aarti when Ragini returned to her room with Yashodhara carrying magad laddoos as Krishn prasad, she could not sleep till late at night. Bua called on the phone... her voice was low... “How is your health Bua?” “See Satya... listen to her question... my voice is always like that in cold weather. I was worried about you.Where will you stay over there, how will you get around? I have explained everything to Ashutosh babu. He is a businessman in Vrindavan. He has a big house there. He will come to receive you in his car. Do not say no to him. Stay comfortably in his house.” “Oh Bua, I want to roam around freely.” “We are not locking you up, are we? You go wherever you like. Ashtosh babu stays there alone, his family is in Europe.” Ragini was perturbed by Munmun‟s worrying. She had sent Chaumal ji to look after her at the fair and here, Ashutosh ji... She felt like she was being shadowed. She travelled around Mathura with Yashodhara in Ashutosh babu‘s car. Thankfully, he had sent a driver instead of coming himself. She had already spoken to him about it earlier on the telephone. She had said that she would come to his house in the evening after sightseeing in Mathura. She felt as if Krishn was very close to her while she roamed in the lanes, by lanes and the roads of Mathura. The wide chasm of centuries seemed to fill into the present moment; she felt that Krishn had only just taken birth, the doors of the jail had opened and the shackles broken

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 149 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM as Vasudev went to Vrindavan carrying a newborn Krishn in his lap. Ragini was restless... “Will you come with me to Vrindavan…? Krishn is calling.” “Krishn is calling?” Yashodhara gave Ragini a surprised look. What a strange foreign girl was she? Full of mystery, seeped to the core in Indian spirituality and culture. And the subject of her research was also Shree Krishn. She felt completely perplexed by her. It was beyond her ability to fathom Ragini‟s personality. She knew that Ragini was not the average foreigner. She was a Britisher but spoke Hindi, Sanskrit and Brij very fluently. It was impossible but she seemed to have made everything possible.

***

After spending one night with Yashodhara in the hospitality of Ashtosh babu at his house, Ragini excused herself and went to live in Gita Ashram in Vrindavan. She felt suffocated in the mansion. But as soon as she entered Gita Ashram she felt like putting a bit of its dust on her forehead... the pious dust of Vrindavan... where Krishn‘s childhood had unfolded, where His love had flowered, the earth on which He had danced the Ras... that earth was not an ordinary one. As she was getting down from the car, Pandit Giriraj walked hurriedly towards her... “Ragini... Ragini Rose Blair... Welcome to this Brijbhoomi.” “Oh God... now what magic has bua done that Pandit Giriraj knows me before I have even arrived.” Seeing her perplexed, Pandit Giriraj said, “Ashtosh babu has already informed us. He is a large donor of our trust... a very kind person... come kalyani Yashodhara... ” “Pranam pandit ji.‖ Yashodhara touched his feet. Ragini also followed. The little boys at the ashram, with shaved heads and in saffron garb, gathered around the special guest from London, eager to help carry her luggage. They had all been waiting for Ragini‟s arrival since morning. She had finally arrived in the afternoon. Ashutosh babu had explained everything to the manager. Everyone was keen on seeing the englishwoman who was going to research their beloved Krishn murari. Ragini had been alloted a room on the first floor next to the stairs leading up from the ashram‟s courtyard. Yashodhara‟s room was next to hers. Ragini changed into a salwar-kurta after having a wash and came out to the balcony. Yashodhara‟s room was latched from inside. There was a strange peace in the ashram... so many Krishn devotees all around, there wasn‟t a single spot where there wasn‟t a devotee sitting and meditating. There were youths from Nepal, Burma, Indonesia and other countries who were searching for their purpose in life, completely immersed in their devotion to Krishn. As far as she knew, one-third of the world was affected by Krishn‘s life. In Russia, America, Europe, everywhere there were Krishn devotees roaming about chanting His name. She too had crossed oceans, mountains and rivers and reached here with His name. There was a sound of steps... “Jai Shree Krishn... you are required in the office.” Ragini too greeted the messenger with the words Jai Shree Krishn and descended the stairs. In the office, the trustees of the ashram sat on cots laid with matresses and cushions. Pandit Giriraj gestured to Ragini asking her to take a seat and then introduced everyone. A heavy-set acharya, who was seated in the middle, explained the ashram‟s rules to her. “There are set times for dining, snacks, prayer and discourse in the ashram. If you are not present on time, you will miss out on them. Pandit Giriraj will give you all the information on Vrindavan‟s temples, parks and forests. Acharya Akhandanand will give you information about

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 150 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM books and literature. He is a scholar of Sanskrit and has taught for several years at the University of Kashi after receiving his doctorate. Now he is in Shree Krishn‘s shelter. You can stay here for as long as you like. If you face any inconvenience, please come here directly and contact us, Jai Shree Krishn.” Ragini listened in silence. She had no questions. She greeted them and arose. It was time for the midday meal. She could see Yashodhara descending the stairs. But suddenly she seemed to have disappeared. The ashram was spotlessly clean, surrounded by greenery... jamun and date trees gave her a kind of comfort. A blooming champa tree spread its scent around. Parrots sat on the highest branches. Warm sunlight dispersed in the breeze. “Come... let‟s eat, then we can explore Vrindavan.” Ragini turned as she felt Yashodhara‟s warm breath on her shoulders. She wanted to ask her where she had been for so long but stopped when she saw her smiling face. Yashodhara was wearing a white saree, white blouse and a tulsi garland around her neck. The bindi of sandalwood paste on her forehead seemed to be saying... ‗Now I am completely at peace. I have found the path of life.‘ The dining hall was enormous. Rows of jute mattresses were laid out on the floor. The hall was full to the brim. Seeing them, the ladies began moving aside to make place. They smiled and thanked them as they sat down. Large leaves serving as plates were laid out in front of them. Hot food was served on the leaves. The young men serving were dressed in saffron clothes with tilaks on their foreheads, muttering shlokas of RadhaKrishn. They carried huge pots full of food. Not a bit of food scattered, such was their discipline. When she finished her meal, Ragini collected her plate and looked around as she rose. A young man motioned towards a wooden box next to the door... “Please throw it there.” When they exited the dining hall, the groups of devotees seemed to be immersed in their business. So much action, yet so much peace... astonishing; seeming to suggest that all of life until now has been wasted... here was the essence of life. It seemed especially so after listening to swamiji‘s discourse in the evening, the futility of the past became evident very quickly. The discourse lasted two hours. Swamiji called Ragini next to him. He placed his hand on her head and blessed her. She was speechless and excited. The ashram was full of love and affection... every devotee in the ashram, swamiji, acharya ji, pandit ji... As Ragini was getting information on the Banke Bihari temple from Pandit Giriraj, news arrived that Ashutosh babu had sent a car for Ragini‟s convenience with a request to please accept it. These simple acts of affection had completely enveloped Ragini. Until now she had simply been living her life, into which love had now entered and thrown her back to her youthful days. Yashodhara too was always with her, like a shadow. After visiting the Banke Bihari temple, they both descended the stairs of the temple and sat down on the steps at the gate. There was a street vendor selling gram near the right side of the gate. He looked like a cowherd, dark as coal with a turban on his head and thick silver earrings. As he filled up two packets of gram, Ragini noticed the bracelet on his wrist... “Brother, where did you buy this bracelet from?” He blinked rapidly, “I did not buy it, Banke Bihari gave it to me.” “Banke Bihari? You mean Krishn?” “Yes... Last week at about ten O‟clock at night when I was getting ready to return home, a man bought gram from me and gave me this bracelet as payment. When I took the bracelet and

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 151 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM looked up, there was no one there but this kaner tree was swaying even without any breeze. Banke Bihari must have touched it as he left. He had a flute tied to his waist and a peackock feather in his hand. Ragini looked stupefied as she took the bracelet from the vendor and examined it. It had the seal of the State of Kansa. She screamed aloud... “Look Yashodhara.” “Oh... My God... I keep telling you Ragini... Vrindavan is full of mysteries.” Ragini‟s eyes welled up with tears. All doubts, all concerns, all the pain was swept away in the stream from here eyes. Her mind was purified. ―Jo khag houn to basero karoun nit Kalindi kool kadamb ki daaran.‖ There is Krishn and only Krishn at the banks of the Kalindi, on the trees of Kadamb.The Braj full of Krishn... The poet‟s wish to take birth on the earth of Braj... but who has seen the next birth? Who knows that I may take birth as a bird. Oh! God, give me birth as a bird of the Kadamb tree, I will make a nest there and live in it. The Kadamb tree was a favourite of Krishn. He used to sit on it and played his flute... Oh! such immense love that the whole universe, all three worlds were too small to measure even a tiny portion of love; if Ragini could receive even an iota of this love, even though she had immersed herself completely in love, so much that she had left no place for anyone else in her life... She had loved Sam but he had abandoned her in the quicksand of lust. Now that filth had burned and turned to ash. Will a phoenix rise from this ash? Will Ragini spread her wings in the sky of love? In her helpless state of love, she slipped into silence.

***

Pandit Giriraj was with Ragini in the Govardhan parikrama.Yashodhara wore a similar attire after seeing Ragini in jeans, tee-shirt and sports shoes. She looked like a college student. Her gorgeous face and a slight smile... How will Yashodhara spend a whole lifetime without her husband? Ragini mused but Yashodhara caught her staring at her face. Embarrassed, she blurted,“You are looking beautiful, sakhi.” Yashodhara laughed, “See, how much pleasure you got by this new name sakhi. Krishn used to call the gopis by that name. The word sakhi is full of deep love.” “Don‟t love me so much, Ragini. I will go back to Jammu in a week or ten days... God only knows when we will meet again.” Ragini smiled, “Do we love each other by being limited in time? Krishn loved Radha, gopis and gwalas without any boundaries.They all got separated very soon and did not meet again in their lives. Did their love become any less among them? In spite of that, Krishn sent Udhav to Vrindavan to make the gopis understand that they should not become restless in the sorrow of their separation from Krishn; instead they should focus their heart somewhere else. Then the gopis laughed and retorted by asking Udhav: ―Udhav man na hoy dus bees... which heart should we focus somewhere else? Are there ten or twenty hearts? We had only one each and that we have given to Krishn. Now we do not have any heart left with us.” Yashodhara was surprised... how little she knew about her own religious epics. Life was passing by in mourning for death but the day of death is fixed at the time of taking birth. Pandit Giriraj said on the way, “I was also born in the same star when Krishn held the Govardhan Mountain.”

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“That‟s why your name is Giriraj.” To circle around the Giriraj has its own importance and the same goes for all those places which come on the way while doing parikrama. The roads were full of sunlight and shadows of trees fell on the streets.The parikrama started in the morning. It was a pleasure walking in the cold weather.The Sun‟s rays spread out the streets, penetrating the fog and forming strange shapes.The fragrance of the Spring flowers blew in the winds.Many devotees of Krishn were circling around, chanting Hare Krishn. Ragini took many pictures.Vrindavan, full of greenery, looked beautiful. As they moved ahead, the crowd increased. Now people were chanting not only Hare Krishn but the Jai of Giriraj too. In spite of the cold, people were bathing in the Mansi Ganga. Pandit Giriraj dipped in the water and prayed in the Ganga temple by offering holy water. Ragini and Yashodhara wanted to dip too but could not. They were both wearing jeans and tee-shirts which weren‟t suitable. There was a black stone statue of mother Ganga... with big eyes and an elegant face. The priest at the temple gave them a few drops of holy water to drink. The people started walking again. Pandit Giriraj spoke, ―Krishn had created Mansi Ganga by the power of his mind, that‟s why it is called Mansi Ganga. As per our epics, Sanatan Goswami used to do Govardhan Parikrama every day and but he was very unhappy in his old age because he wasn‟t able to do it then. Once, Shree Krishn himself appeared and gave him a rock from the Govardhan Mountain. It had symbols of a flute, lakutee, the paws of cows and footprints of Shree Krishn on it. Shree Krishn said, „Don‟t be upset, just circle this rock four times and you will get the benefits of Govardhan Parikrama.‟That same rock is kept in the oldest Radha Damodar temple of Vrindavan even today as a part of the worship. Giriraj Govardhan itself is a real form of Shree Krishn and it is ready to do everything for its devotees. It is believed in Vrindavan that by circling the Govardhan Mountain, all problems get solved and each thorn in life becomes a flower. Inspired by this, lakhs and lakhs of piligrims came from every corner of the country to perform the ritual every month. If you have any problem just put it at the feet of God in your heart. Then see the magic.” Yes, there is... a problem. The greatest problem is of leading a lonely life without any love and pleasure. The wealth of millions and a luxurious life are all there but the heart is not at peace... indeed, all wealth is nothing. If there is anything which cannot be purchased by wealth, it is peace of mind... Oh! Krishn... I surrender this problem to you... will you give me salvation, God? Ragini thought and pressed her palm to her heart.Yashodhara smiled and looked at her, “Ragini, my problem is known to the world. How can I keep it in my mind?” Pandit Giriraj heard her. “The mind is the whole world, devi Yashodhara... whatever happens, there is reflected on the face. That is why Krishn advises to control the heart and mind.” They walked together in silence until they reached Mukharvind.The parikrama ended at Mukharvind. Shree Krishn held the Govardhan Mountain here and saved the residents of Braj from the curse of Indra. Even today Braj is endowed with grain and cows by the grace of Radhaji and the blessings of Giriraj. Every moment of devotion to Krishn is like a celebration.That is why every day is the same for us because every moment which belongs to us is spent in devotion. It is beyond the sadness, sorrows and restlessness of the world. Saying this, Giriraj ji took them to a shop and insisted that they eat some snacks. He himself did not eat anything even though Ragini requested hime a lot. Pandit Giriraj returned to the ashram. Ragini

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 153 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM sent back Ashutosh Babu‟s car. She roamed around the town in a cycle rickshaw with Yashodhara. “Will you come to Kusum Sarovar tomorrow? The love spot of Radha and Krishn.” “How is it Ragini?” ―Krishn used to present flowers to Radha at the bank of this sarovar. Sometimes, if he felt like it, he used to adorn her with flowers.” “Oh! How lucky Radhika ji was and I am so unlucky. I lost my husband at such a young age.” Ragini placed her hand on Yashodhara‟s shoulder. “No friend, where have you lost your husband? He is a martyr. Martyrs never die... and that too, a martyr who has given his life for his country.” Yashodhara had tears in her eyes. She controlled herself and wiped her tears. “I am ignorant compared to you, Ragini,..You know so much about every thing.” “It is nothing... my knowledge is trivial. I feel like living here forever so that I may learn something. The sermons of Swami ji are a treasure of knowledge.” “But I have to return to Jammu, my husband‟s family is there. Mother, sister and brother... It is my duty to look after them, isn‟t it Ragini?” Ragini‟s heart seemed to stop beating. Such a strong relationship and bonding... In her country no one cares for anyone even when they are alive. But here, after death too... Ragini should have been proud of her country which is full of wealth and worldly things. No country in the world had made so much material advancement... but there was also a dearth.The dearth of love and worship which is priceless... Today, even after achieving everything, her country was far behind India and Ragini had become a pauper after showering her wealth of love over a wrong person... who was there for her?... Nobody... except unlimited wealth.What did that country give to her... nothing... and see the fortunate part of it, that the people, George and Deena who helped her by bringing her up, were also Indians, otherwise she knew nobody from Tom Blair‟s family or from her own... and now the warmth of love and belonging which she had not got, was her protection. Now she could withstand any attack at any turning point of life, any sorrow... alone, without any emotional support... every thing was surrendered to Krishn.

***

Ragini was sitting at the banks of the Yamuna with her back leaning against the Kadamb tree. Yashodhara is in the ashram. She says she will take some rest. Swami ji has gone to Jagannath Puri. Ever since coming to Vrindavan, she has had peace of mind. Swami ji opens new secrets about Radha-Krishn. Every day... the heart gets immersed in the pleasure of the Ganges. Ragini had never had this kind of experience. Now loneliness does not trouble her, instead it opens the doors of thinking. Ragini was engrossed in thought, counting the waves of the Yamuna river, sitting at its banks. Radharani used to come to meet her Krishn from Barsana village... How did she come? Ragini saw the straw houses in the ocean of greenery on the other side of the bank... There may not have been a bridge at that time. Did the water of the Yamuna give them way or did they swim across? The sand on the banks shone like camphor in the dense shadows of the Tamal and Kadamb trees. Radha has embraced Krishn.The pearl of her nosering quivered on the lips of Krishn. The Tamal trees were swinging in the strong breeze... ras rang bhire abhire hain tamal dou ras chahein lahrein... the flute poked at her delicate waist... Radha hid the flute.

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Krishn started pleading, “Please give the flute... Radhe.” Krishn‘s pitamber and Radha‟s chunari got entangled and began furling in the branches of the Tamal tree... The buds in her plaits spread all over. Krishn started fondling her lotus like feet keeping them on his lap. Radha trembled and closed her eyes. “Please give my flute, dear.” Radha put up a mock tantrum, “No, you decide Kanhaya, whether the flute will remain on your lips or on my anxious lips.” Krishn was defeated... The sands on the river banks were also defeated. Every ounce of love called out... Radhey... Radhey... Ragini was shaken up... as though her heart was drowning in the ocean of love spreading over the banks. “You have missed something, a lengthy discussion with Acharya Akhandanand... his words have the power to convert the lifeless into life. Yashodhara sat nearby. She had a plate made of leaves filled with khurchan and the mahaprasad of aarti. She offered it to Ragini, “Have some, the khurchan is very nice.” “Yashodhara, can you see Radha coming from Barsana... Radha merged in Krishn? The gopis... who are coming, listening to the chanting melody of Krishn‟s flute? Are you also seeing those creepers embracing their beloved trees but trembling because Krishn had touched their leaves and branches? See... Yashodhara, you can see it, can‟t you?” Yashodhara was astonished and looked at Ragini... what kind of silly things was she saying? “Yashodhara... have you read Raskhan? While completing my thesis, when I was reading his literature, then really, my mind was roaming about in the by lanes of Vrindavan... wah bansuree kee dhuni kaani pare kulkaani hiyo taji bhajati hain. Gopis used to leave their families and run towards Krishn after listening to the melody of his flute... I have also come running here from London.” Yashodhara could not understand Ragini... she held her hands, “Come, Ragini... we will leave now... otherwise we will not get the cycle rickshaw.” Saying this, Yashodhara brought Ragini to the road forcibly. One cycle rickshaw was parked there on which the driver sat comfortably, smoking a bidi. “Will you come to Gita Ashram?” He brought the rickshaw close to them. Ragini sat first, followed by Yashodhara. Ragini used to feel thrilled sitting on a rickshaw. Slowly the rickshaw started speeding up. The tinkling bells on the handle sounded like the feet of gopis had settled in them.

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10 All of a sudden, the sky grew overcast with fearsome brown, red and grey clouds. Strong winds began blowing. Dust from the lanes of Vrindavan began collecting at the horizon. It was the day of Yashodhara‟s departure. Ragini had been sad all morning. Nature too appeared to be giving her company. A worried Yashodhara came to her room to pick up her belongings. Ragini was sitting on her bed, holding her head with her hands. “What happened Ragini? Why are you sitting like this? Are you alright? Firstly, the weather is boding ill portents and on top of it you...?” Ragini raised her head. She was taken aback by the fear in Yashodhara‟s eyes. “Don‟t you see, how these scary clouds have collected. And strong, dusty winds are blowing. There is a saying in our Jammu that the weather gives an indication of ominous happenings but we are not able to understand it.” What kind of ominous happenings? What do you want to say?” Ragini asked curiously. “Only this… that some mishap is going to take place. Anyway come to my room. Help me shut my suitcase. Ragini followed Yashodhara to her room. Yashodhara had bought gifts for all her family members, that‟s why it was difficult to pack them in the suitcase. It was full. There were boxes of pedas from Mathura, in different flavours like saffron and pistachio. Both of them tried to shut the suitcase and finally they managed to. Yashdhara had to board the train from Mathura. Ragini wanted to accompany her up to Mathura. But Yashodhara did not agree. She said, “No Ragini, I came here alone, let me go alone. I have to get into the habit of staying alone.” “Why are you saying this, my friend? Your family members are with you.” “The family is a milestone where you take rest after getting tired in the journey of life. Only a husband is the true companion for this journey.” „And those who don‟t have husbands, don‟t they make the journey? Does life remain stagnant like water in a pond?‟ Ragini wanted to respond but Yashodhara‟s tearful eyes did not let her say anything. She embraced Ragini and sobbed. The jeep had already arrived. There were some more people from the ashram, who wanted to board the train from Mathura. Some of them had to go to Delhi, others to Faridabad, Meerut and Dehradoon. All of them sat down in the jeep. “Love is another name of separation, remember this... if God has brought us together we will meet again.” “Amen, friend.” Ragini‟s eyes beheld Yashodhara‟s waving hand till she reached the end of the lane. Was the separation of the gopis like this... or more than this... The gopis who had a bit of Radha inside them, who used to encircle Krishn like butterflies do to flowers. Vrindavan had subsumed every breath of Ragini. Now she could not think of anything else. Like a person loses awareness when intoxicated by opium, Ragini was under the intoxication of Vrindavan. She used to get up early in the morning. When the group of devotees walked by on the road chanting mantras of „Hari Om‟, she also murmured „Hari Om‟ along with them. Then, milkmen used to pass by riding their bicycles. The milk cans made a jingling noises on the rocky road. The bells on the necks of cows used to tinkle... the milkmen milking the cows inside the cowsheds... and splashing their pots in the buckets full of milk froth. Ragini used to get a lot of pleasure from smelling the greenery of the forest in the air. She had never experienced such pleasure in her life. The pious Ganges of pleasure and the peace inside her... not the Ganges, it was the Yamuna‟s

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 156 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM rollicking in the full moon. This was the Maharas festival. Krishn, a courtesan of jewellery... in the middle... there was Radha surrounded by the gopis... in the gardens, dancing to the eternal melody of heaven... creepers full of flowers in the gardens... Oh! The person who recognises the power of love can experience the eternal pleasure of beholding Krishn. Kanha, Mohan, Krishn, Nandlala... the music is calling out every name of yours. Is this the reason why you loved the flute more than Radha? Ragini looked at the sky as she climbed up the staircase of the ashram. The storm had abated now. The clouds had also cleared out. She could not understand the reason why Yashodhara had warned her about the mishap. It was time for the aarti. Devotees had started assembling there. There would be a sermon after the aarti. Until then Ragini wanted to control her heart and the best way to do it was by sitting in a solitary room and shutting her eyes. Ragini washed her face in the washroom and sprinkled water in her eyes. After wiping her face she sat down in the middle of her bed. She recollected the memories of her mansion in London, the moment she closed her eyes… her daughter Rati... she had tried to see her own childhood in Rati‟s innocent face and in her joyful screams... her youthful beauty made her remember Sam and then she was surrounded by autumn winds in her imagination. She was terrified and opened her eyes. She tried to concentrate on meditation but again the same web of attachment surrounded her. Munmun bua, Satyjit, Deena... George... oh! how could she get rid of this web... Yashodhara whispered in her ears... This is the extreme limit of devotion... this love is God... It is very difficult to achieve God because the way to reach Him is very narrow, crooked and rare. No, she could not concentrate on meditation... her heart was becoming more and more uncontrollable. The bells, manjeere drums from the aarti were ringing downstairs. She came down running. The aarti had started. She joined her hands and focused her sight on the statue of Radha and Krishn. The temple was just five minutes away from the ashram and all the devotees used to gather there in the mornings and evenings. Ragini also used to go there regularly. After the aarti she took prasad and sat down on a platform. A devotee of Krishn came up to her. All of them knew each other because they had been meeting every day at the aarti bhoj. The youth who came up was an American. “Come Mike... sit here for some time.” There was space on the platform but she moved a little to give him room to sit. “Did you notice the weather in the morning today Ragini... clouds... and full of dust.” Ragini felt that Mike was going to talk about the possibility of a mishap that was in the offing. “Why? Why do you ask? Is any mishap...” “Mishap?” Ragini‟s sentence remained incomplete. Mike spoke, stretched his small blue eyes wide open. “Yes... it was a mishap... I get excited and wonderstruck even now when I remember that day. India is a country of miracles.” Ragini was curious, “Tell me Mike, what happened? Which mishap are you talking about?” “In 1998, I came to India, to ISKCON, being a devotee of Krishn... leaving behind all worldly pleasures and my relations in America... to serve God. The weather was very hot that day. Similar clouds were cast over the sky. A gale from the west started blowing and Mathura city was full of dust. It was the time of the morning aarti. We were all in the Dwarkadheesh temple because Pandit Jasraaj, the famous Indian classical music singer had come there. The

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Aarti had started. The crowd was so much that there was no place in the temple. Then Pandit Jasraaj sang Dhulia Malhaar raga as he played the harmonium.” “I know the raga.” Mike looked at Ragini, surprised. “My mother was an Indian classical music singer and my father was a music teacher.” “Oh! How wonderful... then you must know that this raga is sung when it is very warm so that the clouds get attracted towards it and it starts raining. Pandit Jasraj was singing a devotional song and the devotees were shedding tears. All of them were so lost in the song that they were standing like statues at their places. It was a magnificent confluence of devotion and art. Soon, it started drizzling and then the clouds brought down rain. It was raining plentifully. I have seen this miracle with my own eyes.” Ragini was sitting still. There was no reason for not believing Mike. The silence between them took them to a different world. Any topic about India was a matter of pride for Ragini because her father was an Indian, but Mike, he was a foreigner... Then what kind of magnetic attraction brought him to India and made him stay here? Mathura... Vrindavan... where the scent of Jasmine spreads in the air and creates its own world of fragrance... why does it feel like you will meet Krishn at any time here... is that why maidens cry Hari-Om, Hari-Om, as they pick Harsingar and Chandni flowers and draw water from the well to fill their pitchers as they chant Gopal-Govind... Krishn had said... “Come down, come down in the Vrindavan of your heart and you will find me there. There is not a single place where I am not there.” The gopis accepted this as a sentence spoken by God and found Krishn near them throughout their lives. The secret of the soul is integrated in this sentence „Just pray to me, see me, find me and distribute me among yourself‟... “Oh! Shree Krishn... do you really know everything... ” “Where are you lost Ragini?” It was as if Mike was waking her up from sleep. “I am trying to find anant.” “Come... the weather is becoming very cold... I had to return to Mathura today but there is a sermon by Swami ji today; without listening to it, my heart will remain restless.” “Oh! You are right, Mike. Swami Ji‘s words are miraculous. When he gives his sermons, not a single leaf makes a noise.” They were returning home from the ashram in chilly weather. Groups of devotees were walking along, chanting Hari-Om, Hari-Om. They all came down on a rocky road leaving behind the temple. Ragini touched a branch of a tree full of flowers at the corner of the road. A leaf fell down. “Krishn is present in this fallen leaf too.” Ragini kept speaking. Mike was sure that Ragini would not go back to London. She was under the influence of Vrindavan‟s miracles.

***

Ragini wore her pullover and scarf after returning to the ashram and sat near Swami ji‘s seat. Swami ji placed his hand on her head... “Come Kalyani Ragini... you are the power. God has created woman in the form of „power‟. Radha was the force behind Krishn. A force full of divine pleasure. Radha is the supreme embodiment of love. Shyam Sundar comes on His own the moment one takes the name of Radha. One does not have to pray to Shyam Sundar separately. Krishn is embedded in Radha. Call Radha and achieve Krishn. Could Krishn hold the mountain of Govardhan if Radha was not there in his life? He gives the credit to Radha for every success

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 158 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM of His. Krishn believes that the mercy of Radha helps Him to achieve success at each and every step He takes. Kachu makhan te bal badyo,kachu gopan karee sahay, shree radhe Rani kee kripa te, mene girvar liyo uthay. Because of the mercy of Radha, the rains of pleasure and love ras, rasleela could take place. When ras rains in a collective form it becomes raas. The whole world became ecstatic the moment the name of Radha was murmured for the first time. The flow of wind stopped. The calves stopped suckling milk from their mother. Even the Veenavadini Saraswati came to Vrindavan from heaven. Saraswati who was under the sway of the word ‗Radha‘ was so mesmerised that she proposed her love to Krishn. Krishn was completely in love with Radha... He could not think of any other lady love. He could see neither Saraswati nor the proposal of her love. Saraswati was hurt and surprised by this. Unable to move, she turned into a bamboo tree. Krishn was omniscient. His heart was full of love. He knew that Saraswati would never get salvation until He touched her with his lips. He made a flute out of the bamboo tree, touched it with his lips and all the notes of Saraswati‟s veena emanated from the flute. Why were these notes miraculous? Either they could mesmerise a person or make him full of anger. The cows of Vrindavan became so angry after listening to these notes that they chased the soldiers of Kansa out from Vrindavan. Ragini was floating in the ocean of Swami ji‘s sermons, as if everything was happening in front of her eyes. Surely, Radha and Krishn were both present in Vrindavan. You need a vision to see them. Ragini used to debate this within herself. She used to get entangled in this logic, alone in her room after the sermons were over. No, there was nothing more left to be known. The web of attachments also does not overpower. Yes, she used to remember the cultural nights organised by foreign students, so that the Britishers could understand how ancient culture was ever present even now in the modern period. A cultural evening was organised in the memory of Beryl Keith. At that time, Ragini was learning Sanskrit literature from Umashankar and studying the book, ‗The History of Sanskrit Literature‘ written by Beryl Keith. As she heard the many speakers that evening, she discovered that Beryl Keith had a treasure of knowledge of Indian culture. There were framed portraits of Ramkrishn Param Hans and Swami Vivekanand hung on the walls of his drawing room. A white marbled statue of Buddha and a black metalled statue of Natraj in the dancing pose of tandav was placed on the fireplace. There were paintings of Ajanta and Ellora on one side and the shlokas of Gita and Abhigyan Shakuntlam were engraved in the rocky pillar adjacent to the wall. There were Vedas, Vedantas, Ramayana, Mahabharta, Kaalidasa and Bhavbhooti and other great epics on the bookshelf. All these were witness of how deeply Beryl Keith had studied Indian culture.

***

Ragini was pleasantly surprised with the fact that even though she hadn‟t been familiar with how to switch on the cooking gas, let alone make coffee, here she was making coffee for herself every day. She had bought coffee and sugar from the shop. Earlier she used to bring hot water mixed with milk in a thermos flask from the ashram‘s kitchen but now any one of the numerous devotees would bring it to her. They were all ever ready to do her work at any time. When she stood at the balcony with the flask in her hand, one of them would come up, take the thermos flask from her hand and bring it back with mixed hot water and milk in it. While sipping the

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 159 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM coffee, she would read one of the epic books which she brought from the library. Ragini, who was forever in the throes of loneliness and had always pitied herself, now did not think of anything else except her Krishn. She was surprised that now she did not miss anybody from her family... neither Rati, nor Munmun bua, nor Satyjit. She met many people in Mathura and Vrindavan during this Mahakumbh... she stayed with Yashodhara for many days but she never felt the absence of anybody from her family. Mike came to Mathura occasionally. They had become good friends. When he went away she would remain engrossed in her devotion to Krishn. What was happening to her? Was this detachment? Was this a form of yoga in which one loses all desires of worldly things, one which was instructed by Krishn to Arjun when he was shying away from the war at Kurukshetra. “I am intrigued by those who are unaffected by meeting and separation, respect and insult, day and night, and pleasure and sorrow” She no longer bothered about evil... If she could see anything, it was only Radha and Krishn. All other definitions of love pale away after coming to Radha. Jaidev, Chandidas, Vidyapati, Surdas and Raskhan, all of them wrote about the love of Radha from their point of view. The bells of her anklets rang in the form of songs in Geet Govind. The Radha of Vidyapati is a glittering beauty. Like her beauty, the act of love had also emanated from her beautiful heart. Chandidas had accepted Radha as a statue of eternal love. She was a flame which created rapture in love. As Tagore has written… “You are my life, friend.” Yet, even though she is sad, she is also serious. Surdas has uniquely depicted Radha‟s personality and character in Sursagar. Radha grows out of her childhood, attains youth and there she remains. She beholds the eternal beauty of Krishn at the door and hides his flute to get an opportunity to talk to him. Radha is a naughty daughter of Vrishbhanu of Barsana, but she goes to the village of Nand in Mathura and Vrindavan to sell milk and curd. Krishn meets her in those lanes. Krishn asked her at the first meeting, “Who are you? Whose daughter are you? Where do you live?” Radha was clever. She replied cunningly. Krishn was lured... now he began waiting for her in the lanes. Radha was well known for playing hide-and-seek. She used to pass through those lanes in such a way that Krishn could not see her. She enjoyed seeing Krishn in the pain of love. Krishn would not be able to find her and would go to the bank of the river Yamuna. He would sit down on the branch of the Kadamb tree. Barsana village was situated on the other bank of Yamuna. He would start playing the flute staring at the other side. The naughty Radha was actually hiding behind the tree. She would be mesmerised by the flute and would come running towards Krishn. The seed of love was growing in their hearts. Krishn was passionate about her beauty and cleverness, and Radha... she made Krishn her passion... Ab to kanhaiya ju ko chithu churay leeno Chortee hai goratee ya chortee aheer ki. While writing these verses, the poet, Beni Bandijan does tire of describing Radha‟s eternal beauty and intelligence. Krishn says that I am the starting point of the creation and only I am the end. He further says “I am the taste in water, the light in the Sun and the moon. I am the collective self-knowledge. I am the pious fragrance of the earth. I am omniscient. I am the panacea, the fire in the Yagna, the activity of the yagna. I am the mother and the father of creation. I am the beginning and the end,

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 160 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM the place to rest, the treasure which does not get over and the seed, I am there in everything. I create warmth, I shower the rains. I am in immortality, I am in death, I am in existence and non- existence. I am Vishnu, Samveda, Indra, in all the deities. I am the mind and the senses, the supreme self-knowledge, Shankar amongst Rudras, Meru amongst Mountains, Brihaspati amongst priests. Skand amongst chieftains. The ocean amongst waters. Himalayas amongst immovables, Narad amongst sages, Kapil in sidhs, Anant nag amongst serpents, Varun amongst waters, Yam amongst rulers, lion amongst animals, Garud amongst birds, Ram amongst warriors, Ganges amongst rivers, Gayatri amongst mantras, Vyas amongst saints, Spring amongst seasons, Barley amongst grains. I am the beginning, the center and the end of the world. I am the quietness in secrets. Oh! Arjun, my Divine forms are limitless... They become uncontrollable in front of Radha.” How does His heart become uncontrollable in front of Radha even as Krishn controls others. Ragini had to control herself now. She had surrendered her heart to Vrindavan and accepted Krishn as whole and sole in her life. Until now she had wasted her life in vain. Suddenly the earth began moving. Sheshnag was shifting the weight of the earth from its one hood to the other; Gujrat was razed to the ground... Bhuj, Kutch and Ahamdabad.On the one hand there was the pious Kumbh while on the other the devotional songs of Krishn at Mathura and Vrindavan and at the same time the houses and buildings were crumbling to the earth like a fortress of cards. Immense destruction and a tandav... Was this the mishap that Yashodhara had alluded to before departing? Perhaps she had foreseen the impending destruction after seeing the storm gathering in the sky. That day after the aarti in the morning, Pandit Giriraj was also fearful while returning to the ashram. He pointed out to the sparrows bathing in the dust and showed them to Ragini. The birds were making untoward gestures, fluttering their wings in the dust under the maulsiri trees. When any devastation is about to take place on earth, the birds and animals come to know about it before it actually happens. Birds stop chirping. There is silence everywhere on the earth. Monkeys come down from the trees and gather at one place to find ways to safety. This transformed behaviour of nature is a great challenge for science... Human beings have not reached this point yet; otherwise they could have prevented such damage by now. She had surrendered herself to Krishn. She was overwhelmed by a new thought... submit everything of yours to Krishn. Goodness, evil, profits, losses, sorrows, worldly attachments and happiness; all are given by Krishn. Submit them to Krishn. This line of thought gives stability to an unsteady mind. Krishn says: “When we all have to go empty-handed then why be attached to anything? The soul is immortal. What we consider to be ours out of attachment may belong to someone else tomorrow. So do your duty only. Only our duty belongs to us.” The evening sermons were postponed and a special meeting was called. Swami ji said, “It is a very difficult time for Gujrat. It is on the precipice of a horrible disaster. We should go to help them. This is the time to help them with our body and mind. Those who want to go should register their name with Acharya Akhnadanand. We will depart from ISKCON tomorrow.” Ragini rose first. She took out her diamond studded earrings, bracelet, locket and rings and kept them in front of Swami ji for the help of the earth quake victims. All these were inherited by her from her mama and were being submitted back to her mother‟s dear city. Ragini was standing with her head bowed down. There was silence for a moment in the meeting. “Swami ji,I wish to make a telephone call to London. More money can be arranged from there.”

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Swami ji kept his hand on her head, “Sadhvi you are magnanimous. You are a true lover of Krishn” Then he addressed the meeting. “Devi Ragini will lead the rescue group from Vrindavan” He told Ragini to discuss the details with Acharya ji. Ragini was ecstatic and bowed down at Swami ji‘s feet. The meeting with Swami ji went on till 2 O‟clock in the morning. There were so many nominations that they had to be divided into four groups. It was decided that each group would go separately. There was a huge collection of money, jewellery woollens and blankets which were all donated. The jeweller was called to the ashram and the jewellery was evaluated and sold to buy food grains, medicines and first aid items. Ragini spoke to Richard and Rati over the phone and instructed them to send some more money. She came back to her room and started getting ready to sleep. Suddenly her mobile phone rang. She was surprised to see bua‘s name on the screen... at this moment, at night! It was Satyjit‟s voice. “Your bua has been admitted in the hospital. She has got an attack of bronchitis. Water has accumulated in her lungs. It will be sent for tests tomorrow.” Something melted inside her... an iceberg full of emotions, “Tell me the truth uncle, what has happened to bua?” “Doctors are suspecting cancer. If the tests are positive, she will have only three months more... Satyajit started sobbing. Ragini began consoling him like an elderly person, “No, nothing will happen to bua. Have faith in Krishn.” Ragini listened to the sobbing voice on the phone for a while. Ragini also had tears in her eyes. Oh! God, what kind of test are you taking? Do we have to break the tender thread of relationship and love? You will own us by making us absolutely alone!!! Nobody knew when somebody sent this message to swami ji. He himself came to Ragini‟s room. He placed his hand on her head and she started crying bitterly. Tears started flowing like a spring. Swami ji patted her back and gave her solace, “What is this Devi Ragini? You are under God‟s shelter, then why are you so weak?” “Bua ji is everything to me in the whole world Swami ji.” “Do not say so, Krishn Himself is with you. This whole world is with him, if Krishn is with him. Where are you alone devi? Slowly Ragini felt better. “You will go to her now? Shall we make some arrangements?” Suddenly, as if Munmun bua had appeared in front of her... weak, frail, but like a pillar of strength... as if she was saying... “My end is definite. Try to help those whose end is not certain.” “No swami ji... Not now. I will go to Gujarat first. This is a call from Krishn ji. I will go to bua after returning.” Swami ji was satisfied and looked at Ragini. Now she had become His disciple in the true sense. Now His mercy was given to Ragini. He again placed his hand on Ragini‟s head... “You are magnanimous, devi.” He left the room. Ragini lay down on her bed. But her heart bird went towards bua, like a bird fluttering its wings... nobody knows how she will be... she must be suffering a lot. Why does it happen to her always…? Whenever she sees the banks, a powerful wave throws the boat to the middle. She was just not able to escape. Till when will she continue to drown? When will she attain peace, ease and focus? She knew that this world was a web of attachments... even then why did she not accept this truth that the

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 162 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM meeting of the earth and sky is at the imaginary horizon... this is the ultimate truth. Everything will be destroyed, now go on making history about this destruction. What is the importance of this history...? Only this, that it has already happened. At this end, every spent moment becomes history but it ceases to exist in this world. As she was thinking, she fell asleep. She dreamt that Munmun was sitting in a mound of sand, heated by the prickly rays of the Sun asking her for water. She was running towards her but her feet were sinking in the sand. Suddenly Satyajit started raving in pain, “Is somebody there who can give water to my Munmun? Oh, I am helpless. Shame on my living a life like this.” Ragini woke up with the chirping of birds. She touched her cheeks. They were sticky because of the tears. But she had controlled her heart. She began doing her daily routine work as she chanted the name of Krishn. There were people assembled in the ashram. Many of them had newspapers reporting the destruction that had taken place in Gujrat. The first group of rescue workers will start at ten O‟clock. Everyone started gathering in the hall downstairs after finishing their daily routine. But nobody was discussing this deeply. Everybody was waiting for Ragini to come down. Perhaps Swami ji had told them about Ragini‟s bua. Swami ji called her to him as soon as she came down. “Sadhvi Ragini, did you get peace of mind? We all are helpless in front of the wishes of God. Today man has overpowered the earth and sky but he could not conquer time. This is in the hands of God only.” Then Swami ji addressed all the devotees. “All of you know that worship is not done by merely going to the forest and meditating. You can do the same by living in this world also. Tapasvini Ragini has kept her own work as the second priority. Keeping in view the demand of time this is the real service to God. Serve God by serving His people.” Everyone prayed for Munmun. Ragini felt more strength inside her.

***

The jeep carrying the rescue team for Gujrat under Ragini‟s leadership was moving fast. The truck carrying the rescue material, medicines, food and tents was behind the jeep. Ragini‟s heart cried out upon witnessing the destruction. Rescue work and removal of debris was going on at some places. Ragini‟s team stopped there. The stench of rotting, dead bodies filled the air. Everybody covered their mouth and nose with cloth and started looking for signs of life in the debris. Some of the victims said that the bulldozers had finally come after a lapse of four days. Had they came earlier, more lives could have been saved. Everybody was speechless upon seeing the destruction. Ragini‟s group was removing the debris quickly. Perhaps there may be somebody inside, quivering, counting the moments of his life under some big stone or bed. The situation was the same in Bhuj, Bachau and Rapar. The whole city was in ruins after crumbling to the ground. These people were in Anjar. All the houses were in ruins. The roofs were lying on both sides of the road, touching the ground. The walls had become like skeletons. Household goods like stoves, utensils, television sets, clothes, wardrobes etc. were lying scattered in the debris and their owners were now dead bodies, lifeless, just like their household goods. The second rescue crew had also arrived. Ragini was beginning to feel sick. The atmosphere had shaken her up from inside very badly. The second group spread their mats inside the tents. They put down their water bottles and began preparing tea. They had rescued ten people alive.

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Four of them were women and one a child. Everybody's face had become dark with the fear of death and their eyes could not believe that they were alive. Ragini ignored her own nausea and gave them medicines; other Krishn devotees gave them tea, packets of puris and cooked vegetables. A cold wind was blowing. Blankets, pullovers and mufflers were also distributed among them. The pace of the rescue work started picking up. Ragini and two other women from Vrindavan stayed in the tents and looked after the survivors. Now the number of wounded people was increasing. From ten to twenty... twenty to fifty people were treated until late at night. Ragini went into a deep slumber, satisfied with the work throughout the day but her crew continued searching for survivors using searchlights. Suddenly at midnight, Ragini woke up. Her heart was throbbing for Munmun. The medical report must have come by now. Will it be all right to find out at this time of the night? May be Satyajit had gone to sleep now after taking care of Munmun all day. Maybe he was awake... worrying, in tension, sadness... expecting Ragini to call. She dialled the telephone number with trembling hands. She heard Satyjit‟s voice on the first ring, “Ragini, see what the doctors are saying? They have diagnosed cancer... She will live not more than five to six months... ” “What!!!”She felt as if she was herself in the debris now... the whole sky bearing down on her. “No uncle... this is not true... nothing can happen to my bua.” She sobbed. It was as if maturity suddenly appeared in the broken-hearted Satyajit. His words acted as a balm as he consoled Ragini. Both were shattered. They were bound to be upset; in fact everything was in pieces. Munmun was Satyajit‟s life and Ragini‟s only relationship that encompassed her mother, father and all others... a relationship which was bigger than anything else. Who will try to console whom? There was silence at both ends, silence that was eager to swallow the moment. A new day dawned after the silent night. Ragini felt as if somebody had squeezed out her blood from her body. The feeling that everyone has to leave this world forever was very painful… as was the realisation that one of theirs would be with them for only four or five more months. To feel death in every moment is the most painful feeling in this world. The women in the rescue team got up early to do their chores. Seeing Ragini‟s state, they suggested that she take some rest. Everyone was worried because her face had become pale with worry. “I will bring tea for you, Ragini devi.” A boy was standing outside the tent in the nearby tea stall. The sale of tea had increased because of the cold weather. All of them had tea and left to continue the rescue work. Ragini found it very difficult to stay back in the tent. She also accompanied them. A very tall tower had crashed down to the ground. Suddenly, Ragini felt that there was a cow under the debris. Perhaps it might have been standing under the balcony in the chilly night when it fell on her during the earthquake. She started removing the debris hurriedly but in vain... It was dead. Its eyes had turned still. There was an auto rickshaw too buried in the debris. There was a message written at the back, ‗Ta-Ta Bye-Bye, we will meet again‘. A pink object was lying at a distance... Oh! What? This was a small girl‟s frock. There was a cloth doll sticking to the girl‟s chest... a toy doll. Ragini trembled at seeing the smashed face of the little dead girl in a pink frock. She told Mike, the leader of the other rescue group, “I cannot see this destruction any more, I will return today.”

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As Mike patted Ragini‟s back, he felt that her body was warm with fever. “Oh! You have a fever. Come, lie down. I will give you medicine.” She sobbed... “Mike so much destruction? What kind of God‟s justice is this...? Such punishment to people who have committed no fault.” Mike gave her some medicine and wiped her tears with his handkerchief. “You believe in God, don‟t you... if he has destroyed it, he will create it too. Do not think of anything, just shut your eyes and try to sleep.” Mike consoled her. But how could Ragini sleep even after taking the medicine? She wanted to talk to Swami ji. She dialed the number on her mobile phone and put it to her ear but the network was not working. Swami ji‘s words could have acted like a balm on her wounds right now. How horrible was the atmosphere? Cries and screams of pain… rotting, dead bodies... life had turned into death in a moment. Now she could understand Munmun bua‘s pain... the importance of life. Now she had to go to her. She had to take care of Satyajit uncle. He was now the only one who belonged to her. What else was there in her life… just like the dried stump of a tree?

***

The afternoon had passed and the evening came creeping along with the setting sun. Shadows entangled and merged with each other as if ghosts and witches were coming down from the trees in a cemetery to dance. The Garba dance takes place here. Maa Kaali had come to the city of Maa Durga with her khappar. She was dancing and screaming. How many people‟s blood will you suck? Has your khapaar not filled yet? Has death‟s invitation not gotten over yet? Ragini woke up all of a sudden. What a terrible dream? Her body had lost all strength. She was drowning. Was there any bank of safety? Candles were lit everywhere... twinkling flames in the wind gave an indication of life or sometimes death... She got up from her bed completely shaken up and threw her blanket away... her whole body was sweating. The tee-shirt was sticking to her body because of the sweat. Mike had just come back after serving tea and food to the survivors and now he was pouring tea from the thermos flask for himself and Ragini. Seeing her condition he came towards her quickly. He touched her forehead, “Thank God, the fever has come down. Your clothes are wet. You go and change, and then we will have tea together.” And he went out of the tent. Ragini smiled for a moment at Mike‟s caring attitude but her smile stayed only as long as a bolt of lightning. The atmosphere was horrible. Mike described the whole day‟s work as they sipped tea. There was a sense of satisfaction on her face after having saved so many lives... but she was crying out for those lives which had left the world. She had lost so much in her own life that any kind of pain or sorrow ate her up from inside. The prosperous Gujrat had fallen to ruins in a few seconds. The high rise buildings... each flat was so expensive. Gujrati women had ornaments of gold and silver on their bodies... and many dreams for the future. Their prosperity could not do anything in the wake of the earthquake. What is the value of wealth? Everything is just ordinary in front of nature. Her mama‟s millions... her dad who wanted to snatch all the money, his race to steal everything and his body dying a slow death... what could give him pleasure in his life? Could he enjoy anything? Then what is its value? What does all this mean? Someone came and lit a lantern. Long shadows began moving on the walls of the cloth tent... Those who died before their time... those who could not live their lives... their desires were buried in the debris... it was as if they were the shadows and were demanding an account of their

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 165 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM breath. The wind was blowing and hissing outside the tent, as if it was in a senseless frenzy... searching in the trees, branches and leaves, which it had adored; leaves which used to hide their faces in the branches when the wind kissed them. How helpless human beings are in the hands of nature? The empires disappear, the reign is erased, and civilizations are destroyed but the obstinacy of humans remains. He becomes immortal, rises again like a raktbi; there is greenery once again in the farms. The streams become full of water... destruction after inhabitation and inhabitation after destruction... this is life, one kick and it scatters like sand; then a few pats and it becomes a nest. The loudspeaker was screaming outside... come, come... there is food tonight from our organisation Sanjeevani. Mike entered the tent with two plates of khichadi, papad and pickle. “You don‟t eat the pickle, you had fever, it will harm you.” “I don‟t feel like eating even khichadi.” Ragini pretended to sleep, covered by a blanket. “Eat a little... then take a dose of medicine. You will feel better by the morning... I have made arrangements for you to return to Vrindavan.” Ragini felt as if life had come back to her body upon hearing the name of Vrindavan. She made small pieces of the papad and spread them on the khichadi and started eating. It was tasty. She finished it, had some medicine and lay down again. She felt heavy as she closed her eyes. Mike came beside her and said, “Come I will massage your head, you will feel better.” „Mike, you care so much for me... ‟ she wanted to say. At that moment, there were screams in the tent. The rescue team had saved two girls who were wounded very badly. Mike let go of her head and ran towards them with a first aid box. Ragini wanted to get up but she couldn‟t. She was trembling because of the screams... she felt as if the fever was rising again with the shivering. Mike covered her with a quilt on top of the blanket. Now she was shivering very badly under the weight of the quilt and the blanket, like a leaf of the peepal tree.

***

Upon returning to Vrindavan, they learned that Rati had sent a cheque for twenty five thousand dollars for the rescue fund of the earthquake victims. Only Swami ji and a worker were present in the ashram. All the others were in Gujrat. Everybody was worried about Ragini‟s illness. Specialist doctors were called immediately to check her up... all possible medical tests and all the reports confirmed that Ragini had no medical problems. How could she control herself after having seen such a horrific tragedy and destruction? After taking her medicines and some nourishing food, she slept for four or five hours. When she woke up Swami ji noticed her pulled-down face, “Will you will be able to travel to Calcutta and then to London?” “I have to go there Swami ji... God wants it this way. But it is definite that I have to come back here. This is the place where lies the real happiness of life. Wealth and relatives all are false.” Swami ji closed his eyes and blessed her, “May God bless you.” Ragini‟s flight was scheduled for the next day. Swami ji made all the arrangements. Nobody came to know when the air ticket was arranged, when the jeep arrived to take her to the airport and when Swami ji gave his sermon to give her courage. He made her drink the Krishnmrit after the sermon was over. Now she felt free from all the mental tension, sadness and pain. After

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 166 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM drinking the Krisnamrit, she felt that Krishn had Himself come to her room... He had a flute in his hand, which he kept on his lips and a sweet melody started echoing in the room. Ragini felt as light as a flower... the image of Munmun bua departing after the destruction of Gujrat... the families that were destroyed there... and here, her loving Munmun bua was leaving for her heavenly abode... this is the only truth... this is the everlasting truth... this is limitless. Satayjit has to accept the fact that his journey with his beloved was for this long only. Even otherwise, nobody has an extra breath in his life... Satyajit and bua had defied all the traditions and believed that the foundation of human relationships does not depend on age and physical existence.

***

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 167 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

11 Munmun was lying down supported by pillows as the nurse checked her blood pressure. Hospital corridors always frightened Ragini… long corridors with gleaming floors, nurses, ward boys, patients and their relatives… gave her the impression that life is movement… keep on moving, from morning to night… When will the movement come to an end…? Who knows? Munmun‟s face was pale and weak. As a yellow leaf in Spring, Munmun was looking frail. Ragini ran towards her and embraced her, “Bua,what have you done to yourself?” Munmun pretended to smile. Satyajit, who was standing by the side of the bed, wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his shirt. The nurse looked at Ragini as she put away the blood pressure instrument. “Madam, make him understand, he is always crying like this.” Ragini complained, “Did you hear, what the nurse is saying?” “Perhaps she does not know how to love? Perhaps she has not loved anyone.” Satyajit protested gently. “Ragini, my Satyajit will be lonely. Please take care of him. I am worried about you too.” “Me…! Krishn is with me bua. Those who have submitted themselves to Krishn do not require anyone else‟s company. Bua, I will go to London only once… to write my will. Then I will come back to Mathura... That‟s all.” Munmun was mesmerised by Ragini‟s face. She looked quiet and elegant… on the verge of peace… beyond her human desires. “Do you want to become a hermit, Ragini?” “No bua, that word is misleading. Humans can be hermits and yet be involved in worldly affairs. It is a fact that this world is deceitful. Every human being is silently rejecting this illusion, even as his mind tries to convince him otherwise. Satyajit‟s heart was sinking. Ragini‟s views were filled with sadness but there was also a measure of truth in them. He sat down on a nearby chair. Munmun had reclined. Ragini began massaging her cold feet under the blanket. Munmun looked at her extraordinary daughter. A divine soul which had taken birth in human form. The doctor had advised Munmun not to talk too much. Satyajit read out her favourite books for her every night. She would fall asleep while listening to him. The special room had been arranged especially for Munmun in this expensive hospital… curtains of her choice, flowers and Satyajit‟s presence… who was denying the fact that her life was ending. What else did Munmun want... she had never expected anything more in her life. Munmun trembled within herself after sensing Ragini‟s feelings… Is such an aspect of life also possible? “Bua,what more can I say about life‟s travails. It will be a small mouth talking big. Please don‟t put any pressure on your heart” “Ragini, I had a burden in my heart, I was carrying it like Jijiphas did for many years. Jijiphas spent his whole life trying to push a huge boulder up the slope of a mountain, so that when he reached the top, he would be eble to show the whole world how strong he was. But he could not do so. The mountain was steep and the boulder always came rolling down. I too tried this with my burden but I could not succeed.” “Which burden bua?”

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 168 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

“The truth about your birth.” Munmun started coughing as she talked. Her breath rasped in her lungs. Satyajit patted her back. Ragini went to increase the temperature of the room. The room heated up comfortably and Munmun went to sleep. “You eat some food Ragini, I‟ll be here until then.” To Ragini, Satyajit seemed like an old, tired and helpless person. Munmun‟s illness had turned him hollow from inside. A person needs his partner‟s company at the milestones of his life and his life partner should be in front of his eyes... What could she do to make her precious breath fill with life. Ragini took out some hot soup and poured it in cups. She gave one cup to Satyajit and said, “Drink it... and submit yourself to Krishn... life lies in there.” Satyajit looked at Ragini surprised. Now he could understand Ragini. It was a fleeting emotion. He sipped the soup. It seemed to be tasteless. He stared at Munmun‟s pale face unaware of Ragini sitting on the easy chair near the window, watching both of them. He could remember everything as he looked at Munmun... the stroll down the road, all evening, in the pale light of the setting sun... a worry-free life where there were no dreams of the future. If there was anything in abundance, it was time, which they had lived... together without any troubles... Munmun... how could you decide to go alone? You used to believe in life‟s philosophy where no power in the world could separate two people who love each other. Did you think of how I will be able to stay alone on the rocking boat of life?

***

Days, fortnights and weeks passed by. Munmun was suffering from pain; more and more pain was hurting every part of her body. This pain was unbearable... “Satya, take me home. I want to spend the last moments of my life at home.” Satyajit began sobbing. Ragini held her hand tightly, “Yes bua we will go home today. The doctor will come on his rounds in the evening... after that... now, give a smile, just one smile” Munmun had tears in her eyes. She smiled with great difficulty. “Oh! Satya just see how this girl tells me to smile. Satya, tell her I have smiled enough already. Isn‟t it Satya?” Suddenly, Ragini embraced Munmun, “Now bua, do you want to cry or what?” The cold winds returned from the mountains as cold waves. Munmun‟s illness had changed Satyajit‟s life. Restlessness, heavy days and nights, just like as it was at the time of the revolution. So, it seemed that the war inside was the same as the one outside. The soul‟s battle... Satyajit realises that no matter how well prepared he is, defeat is certain. Now, there was absolute darkness in his life... a wild sandstorm... it was difficult to keep the eyes open. The reality of separation from Munmun had taken him by surprise. The soul troubled him inside… that if Munmun is separated from him now, she will never meet him again... what kind of reality, what kind of truth was that...? Munmun was on a flimsy bridge, which was about to collapse... what should he do to his heart which was going to pieces trying to stop the bridge from collapsing. Satyajit pulled down the glass of the car‟s window. He was sitting, covered with a blanket embracing Munmun. Ragini was sitting in the front. The roads were full of people. The aarti of Banke-Bihari must be taking place in Vrindavan. Swami ji must be going to give his sermons. The doctors agreed with great difficulty to send Munmun home for a few days... the prescribed medicines could cause harm if not administered properly. Suddenly, Ragini felt her

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 169 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM mind switching between images of the lanes of Vrindavan and Munmun‟s illness... “Why is it so? Why is the heart not stable? From where has the weakness come?” She shut her eyes and lay back on the car seat. Munmun had etched every corner of the house and its goings-on, in her heart... The sun‟s rays used to arrive in the mornings. Satyajit used to open the windows and the rays used to spread in the room. Munmun used to sip and enjoy the sunlight slowly. That is how she felt, unquenched even in complete satisfaction? If this wasn‟t possible, why would anyone wait for the sun of the next day? Satyajit used to prepare soup for Munmun and make her drink it with his own hands. He used to play Rabindra sangeet of her choice on the record player several times in a day. Munmun‟s favourite song was ekla chalo re. She had sung this song in many musical evenings. How easy it was? Has anybody been able to walk alone? Crossing all the zig-zag roads, reach the other end and stay alive until then. So easy? Even then, it was a trial, Munmun had to leave... to make this struggle easy. Satyjit used to remind her of old times to keep her involved, to make her laugh but the weak branches could not give company to the winds of Spring. Munmun often had to lie down feeling weak. Ragini used to help her... “Bua,I want to take a very good picture of yours.” “Now see Satya... she wants to take a picture of an old, eighty five year old hag. You can see my young photographs after I leave.” “You are very young even now. You do not look more than sixty or sixty five years old. No I‟m not joking. Isn‟t it true uncle?” Satyjit looked at Munmun with great affection; his heart was brimming with love for her. The heart of Radha is a centre of all the activities of Krishn. Krishn did not meet Radha after leaving Vrindavan… Was Munmun‟s demise very near? Ragini called a professional photographer home. While putting on her blouse, Ragini‟s fingers touched Munmun‟s arms, which became very painful... but she posed with a beaming smile in the photograph. The picture was so beautiful that Munmun did not even look sick. It was laminated and kept in Munmun and Satyajit‟s bedroom. The cold waves had subsided. After having dinner and giving medicines to Munmun, Satyajit was sitting at her bedside. This was the routine these days. Now, he spent all twenty four hours at home and watched Munmun dying every moment… lonely, old and helpless. Whenever Ragini was near him, she found tears in his eyes.

***

Ragini came and sat near Munmun‟s feet. She started gently massaging her soles, “Bua, you have not read my thesis.” Munmun looked at Ragini helplessly. “Today, I will read out a few parts of my thesis.” Satyajit looked up questioningly, “In this condition?” But Ragini‟s eyes were full of confidence. Perhaps Krishn may show some miracles or something might happen and bua may get rid of her pain, get salvation... She brought the thesis and sat down on the chair near bua‘s feet, at an angle from where she could observe Munmun‟s facial reactions. “Yes bua, fill your heart with the love of Krishn, it should fill each part of your body.” As she read out the thesis, Ragini‟s voice created magic. It was like experiencing a divine feeling, as if a celestial spring was radiating the sound of God‟s supreme power.

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 170 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

“Krishn‟s incarnations are full of diversity. Devakinandan Krishn took birth in a jail to free people from the atrocities of his maternal uncle Kans. Baba Nand and Yashodha brought him up keeping him away from Kans. After grazing cows and performing many miraculous deeds in his childhood and rasleela at that young age, he came to Mathura and Dwarka to participate in politics and the war in Hastinapur. This form of Krishn is different from the one of the philosopher Krishn, who is the narrator and the teacher of the Gita. He has mesmerised the world with his various forms. The life of Radha, Govindvallabh of the gopi,Giridhar nagar of Meera, a friend of Sudama who makes him a wealthy person with his invisible hands, and the chariot driver of Arjun. He is the philosopher and thinker in the Gita who has no parallel. Inspite of having many queens, he loves Radha so deeply that it depicts the union of nature and human beings. That is why Radha‟s name is taken before Krishn. Once, all of Krishn‟s queens went to bathe at the river banks. There were some gwalas also bathing on the other side of the river. The queens noticed a very beautiful lady too bathing there. They invited her to accompany them. That woman was none other than the Krishn‟s beloved, Radha. She replied, “How can I come there? He has left me here and this is the only place I can be.” Radha‟s eyes welled up with tears. The queens too became emotional. They offered her some milk to drink after her bath. “Take this, do not reject it.” Radha could not turn down their request. She remembered Krishn in her heart holding the silver tumbler full of milk and saffron. “I have sacrificed my jewellery and precious clothes because I am living my life without you but please don‟t show me such days again.” She heaved a sigh as she thought of Krishn and the milk became very hot. Radha drank it and Krishn‟s throat blistered because of its heat. He was in pain. Udhav started crying as he saw this. “Whom should I call? The vaidyraj will take atleast one hour to come.” “No Udhav. These blisters have come because of the heat of Radha‟s sigh of separation. You go to her and bring a piece of her pallu with which she is wiping her tears of separation. That pallu will cool these blisters.” In spite of having eight queens, Radharani was his soul mate. As she turned the page, Ragini stopped and observed bua‘s face. She was watching Ragini with ecstasy. Emotions full of supreme love had filled her heart with joy. Satyajit was wiping his face with a handkerchief. He could not have been sweating during this cold weather. Was Satyajit trying to hide the tears he was shedding for Munmun? After reading her complete thesis, Ragini noticed that bua had closed her eyes slowly. It seemed that she was tired. She kept away the thesis and started fondling her hair. In a moment she was in deep sleep. Ragini switched off the light and switched on the night bulb. “Uncle, you also sleep. It is night and very late now.” “No, it is only eleven o‟clock.” Ragini smiled and went out of the room. She kept thinking about Munmun bua and Satyajit till late night. Munmun and Satyajit had lived a long life full of love. Mama and Chandidas could not live that kind of life. It was as if she herself was living their short life. Who knows how much? Perhaps as long as Munmun bua‘s or maybe Krishn may call her away at this very moment. Ragini had a dream that night. There was a huge stone temple near a very deep well. There were brass pitchers at the top and embedded and decorated planks on the big wooden doors. There were thick chains on the door with a mesh made of iron bars. If you peeped inside the mesh it was full of darkness. The place where there

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 171 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM should be a statue of God, was empty. Bats were hanging upside down like butterflies. They made a „chik-chik‘ sound and flew around the room and then hung upside down as they were earlier. Outside, there were dry flowers and leaves floating in the pond. There was also a reflection in the middle of the pond. Suddenly, she saw her mama in the moon pointing towards the temple and saying, “Chandidas was there, where has he gone?” Ragini ran worried and tried to look for her father, Chandidas, in the ruins of the temple and found him looking at the bats amidst the stinking air. Suddenly she heard a splashing sound and saw her mama‟s reflection peeping through the moon immersed in the water. She awoke with a start. Inspite of the cold weather, her body was full of sweat. She remembered Krishn in her heart. What kind of dream was this Mohan...? Full of horror, rending the heart. Is this an indication of Munmun bua‘s end or that of mama‟s unfulfilled desires which she wants to fulfil through me...? The puzzle becomes more mysterious, the more I try to solve it. After that episode, Ragini felt uncomfortable for many days. She had the same dream repeatedly. She was worried about the future. At the same time bua‟s condition was deteriorating slowly. She could hear the footsteps of death clearly; they were brutally killing the people around her. Those whom she was leaving behind, were bleeding from the claws of death and were cursed to live in this world for innumerable years. Munmun found it difficult to breathe in the afternoon. The sky was clear and the setting sun made the tender leaves look red. Like an alert soldier, Satyajit brought out the car immediately. Ragini picked up the bags of essentials and the car was at the gate of the hospital within fifteen minutes. Stretcher... nurse... doctor... everybody in the corridor of the hospital was running. Munmun called out to Satyajit subconsciously... „Satya... a lot of pain... Satya‟... and she fainted. Teary eyes followed Munmun bua till the door of the intensive care unit. Ragini prayed, closing her eyes... “Oh! God, give peace to bua... ” After trying hard for one hour a breathing machine was connected to her heart. Munmun was put on a ventilator. She went into a coma early in the morning. Satyajit wept like a child but Ragini was calm. The body is a house of the soul which will go away to another house. It is immortal... Nainam chidanti shastrani, nainam dahati pavakh... „Decorate this house with Krishn‟s name, filling it up to the brim. This filling up is the salvation.‟ Satyajit looked pale and weak, as if he had lost something very precious at the fair and it was going to be evening when the fair was going to get over. Satyajit and Ragini stayed back in the hospital‟s guest house... Nobody was allowed in the I.C.U. but Satyajit was still taking the rounds. The whole day passed and the evening too. It became night. The clock struck twelve. “Uncle, please take some rest.” Satyajit collapsed on the bed, his body had become stiff because of running around the whole day. “Ragini, we have made each other understand that in this illness one has to be alone at the end. Life expects only this from us.” “Who isn‟t alone uncle...? But the person who has tasted this Krishnmrut, he forgets himself... and we accept the fact when we lose everything.”

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 172 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

The dim light in the room threw strange shadows on its walls. Ragini drank some water. Satyajit was surprised at the pure innocence which emanated from her face as she gulped down the water. Her whole body was transformed. The Ragini who went to Vrindavan and this Ragini, who was standing in front of him, were completely different. The wind howled and made hissing noises. A woodpecker was pecking at a branch of the maulshree tree with its beak... making a thak-thak,thak-thak sound. The hard reality of living life on the one hand and bidding farewell to it on the other… It was four o‟clock in the morning. The nurse came and informed them that Munmun had regained consciousness. Both of them ran inside. She was barely conscious and was still on the ventilator. Her lips trembled upon looking at Ragini... “Yes bua say something.” Munmun looked at Ragini helplessly... trying to raise her head to bid goodbye. Two teardrops trickled down the corners of her eyes. Satyajit embraced her and sobbed. There was nothing left now. The soul had left the body‟s house. Munmun‟s last breath had jolted all those breaths which had been preparing themselves for this day… for all those months and when the day had come, all those days were charred. Ragini hugged Satyajit like a child and brought him outside the I.C.U. She sat with him on the sofa. Satyajit was still. There were no tears, no sobbing... only staring into space. She brought him some water. “Uncle, bua has merged with God. Early in the morning at four o‟clock, at dawn, she left for her heavenly abode. The doors of salvation open exactly at this time in heaven. Satyajit and Munmun‟s house was filled with people inspite of the fact that Satyajit had declared that they will not observe mourning. When Munmun is still with us then why mourn? Munmun will bid goodbye to this world when I go away. She is alive until then, if I am alive. What kind of illusion was Uncle creating? Death is the ultimate truth, why was he not accepting this fact? Who will take care of him? Oh! Krishn, grant peace to his heart. Give him strength to bear this sorrow. Munmun‟s dead body lay on the pyre. Satyajit did not allow her to be covered in a coffin cloth. She was adorned with diamond ornaments and was dressed in a white saree with a twinkling golden border, to make her look like a bride. Whatever Satyajit could not do when she was alive... he did it after her death. Satyajit took a pinch of vermilion and spread it on the parting of her hair. There was no reaction from anybody... there was no effect on anybody standing in the crowd nearby... perhaps they might be thinking, do whatever you like... what difference does it make... what kind of resistance can be put up by a body made of earth. After a few days when Ragini was leaving for London, Satyajit was left alone in an empty house. “Do not be sad for me Ragini... I will live with Munmun‟s memories.” Satyajit said peacefully. The peace which shakes up a person‟s heart, which makes one feel that there is nothing left except a huge void; it was such a hollowness that had engulfed Satyajit. Now it was very difficult for him to come out of it. It was as if time had stopped.

***

Ragini was completely engrossed in Krishn as she boarded the plane. Her heart was separated from the world but Krishn was not permitting her to be separated from her worldly duties. This was a peculiarity of her miraculous Mohan. As the lotus, which blooms in mud but does not allow a single drop of sludge to fall on its petals, stems and leaves... Mohan says something similar, ‗stay in the world but do not get attached to it!‘

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 173 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM

***

Diana Villa was filled with visitors every day as soon as Ragini reached there. Whoever heard of her arrival came there. Ragini sat quietly in her black attire as people came to pay their condolences. She kept a picture of Munmun bua there, which had been taken during her last days, and a lamp was lit in front of it. Rati suggested that a candle be kept instead, but she refused to do so. A person who has lived a traditional life should have them followed after death too. This is a principle of life. This is the everlasting hunger of human beings. Love and peace... If the rituals are done for peace of the dead person‟s soul, the person who does it gets peace for himself. Soon, night knocked at the door... when the wind began blowing, the visitors took leave of Ragini and started returning to their homes. Ragini did not feel like having dinner. Her heart had also started feeling damp, like the night, but it would be too much for Rati to bear, so she had a bite. Rati chattered away at dinner time and described many things that had happened in Ragini‟s absence. At night, Rati slept with her mama, embracing her like a bird.

***

The will had been written. Ragini kept sufficient wealth in her name to make monthly donations to different institutions. Two more institutions were added the list, ISKCON in Mathura and Gita Ashram Trust in Vrindavan. Money which she would need for living expenses in Vrindavan was kept in her own name. She kept the remaining wealth in a fixed deposit in the name of Diana Welfare Trust. The trust had to fulfil its duties with the interest earned from this fixed deposit. The companies established in different countries, farm houses, bungalows, movable and immovable properties and valuable ornaments, etc. were kept in the name of her eighteen year old daughter but she could only access them when she was capable enough, after completing her studies. Until then, she was entitled to receive income for her monthly expenses and for her studies. Twyla and Richard would be her guardians and her carer would be Martha, a widow of thirty five years who had no children of her own but who had a heart filled with the ocean of love. It is true that human beings plan something but the outcome is different. Had Diana‟s father ever thought that all the wealth to which Diana was the sole heir, would eventually separate her from Tom. Tom died a terrible death in fear of separation from Diana, washing his hands with the blood of Chandidas. Neither he nor his heir could enjoy this wealth. The whole dynasty was dedicated to donations. That is why this entire wealth is submitted to Shree Krishn. I belong to Krishn. Neither Deena nor George, in whose laps she had played, who had seen her crawling on her knees when she had her milk teeth, was alive. Deena must have laughed with her when she had screamed with joy and she must have shrieked when she cried. She will not be able to pay her debt to George who went through a lot of pain and had hurt himself because of her. Munmun bua gave her a strong personality; made her aware of her duties, taught her the meaning of love... she owed it to her for all these reasons. She owed it to Satyajit too, who gave endless love to her beloved Munmun bua without any social relationship... remained with her till the end of her life... and now her Rati... in whose company of fourteen years she had understood the meaning of life. She had learned to love herself and to look at the world with boundless love. She had

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 174 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM learned to forget the physical body and seen that the roads of the heart were more difficult to traverse than those of the body. Then she had submitted her heart to the feet of Krishn and had implanted the tinkling sound of His anklets in her heart. “Oh! gopis, keep me with you so that I may learn how to live for Krishn.”

***

“Mom, so have you decided to settle down in Vrindavan finally?” Rati came from behind and put her arms around Ragini. Once like this, she had questioned Deena when Deena decided to leave London and go back to India forever. Deena was attached to her, so she stayed back but Ragini would not be able to do that. She had understood the essence of life. Worldly relationships, wealth and attachments did not attract her now. All of these are attractive like nightingales but can be shattered in a moment. Ragini had learned the truth after losing everything. She had seen the world. Attractive, full of miracles but there lies a bitter truth in its depths, diseases, hunger, terrorism, insults… and only Krishn can help come out of it. He says that you should treat yourself as Krishn. “There is no world, no sky, no relationships, no religion… If there is anything, it is Me. I am Krishn... I am Radha too.” London was being left behind. Her own London, mama‟s London, and she was going to her father‟s country... the city of her father... will anything change after she goes away? Will the season forget its months; will rivers, oceans change their ways? But Krishn was up above... he was calling her... she is watching, hearing the rhythm which shakes her... Yes the seasonality of the weather can be shaken with that rhythm. Waves of flowing water can forget their path in that rhythm. The chinar and pine trees can be broken into pieces with this rhythm. The forlorn may give their calls while trembling... trahimaan... trahimaan... Ragini wants to merge with this massive being. She does not want to remember her past. She only wants to remember, the beads of reminiscence, spread all over with each bead becoming Krishn. Somebody whispered in her ears... „Do not be defeated Ragini. Every person has to fight his own war. The fight takes place amongst ourselves with our own people. And the world‟s wealth, prosperity and physical comforts have no attraction.Then comes the stage of renunciation, of submitting everything to Krishn. Good-evil, laughter-tears, losses-gains, sorrows-happiness; submit everything to Krishn. Ragini closed her eyes and submerged into immense happiness.

***

Eventually, the day had come when Ragini has to go to Vrindavan leaving London forever. Rati was astonished at her mom‟s decision. After all why does mom want to go away from here? Why should she stay alone here? Why should she be left alone with her only own shadow for company in this echoing Diana Villa? It was as if the window panes vibrating in the strong wind, were asking the same question again and again. The curtains in all the rooms were fluttering and moving, repeating the same question. She was avoiding Martha‟s glances... the same question was resounding in her eyes too. Many-a-times she had prayed in the church... Oh! God, please stop my mother from going. But the candles were flickering in acceptence of mom‟s decision. Why was everything happening against me? Rati had thought earlier, “Because you are a coward, you feel unsafe without mom.You feel that the world will be different when she goes

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 175 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM away... after all what is the reason behind these weak thoughts? Is it the excessive love, affection and now suddenly, the stubbornness of breaking the bond with her own.” There was silence spread all over and it was broken by the rustling of leaves and the rythm of the slashing rain. Ragini‟s luggage had been arranged in the verandah, ready to be loaded in the car. Everybody gathered around Ragini, all the servants, Martha and her dearest Rati... “Please do not feel sad for me because this order has come from God.” Rati cried bitterly at Ragini‟s shoulder. “Oh! Silly girl, where am I going? I will continue to be here amongst all of you. Whenever you need me you will find me near you. Just remember one thing. Everything gets over only if we wipe it from our memories. So... I am there in your memories. Aren‟t I?” Rati could not understand anything. Yes, Ragini‟s Krishn did stop the rain... and Ragini could go to the airport comfortably. Ragini etched in her heart, the waving of hands for her final departure. She crossed the glass door as the flight was announced and then did not look back. Rati collapsed within herself, looking at her departing mom. She stood still, keeping many unanswered questions within herself. Everything was meaningless for Ragini now.

***

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12 It was raining cats and dogs. The streets, lanes, trees - all were covered with a transparent film of water. Ragini‟s room had been changed. She now had a room situated at the corner and the window opened out into the garden. The heavy rain and the curtain wafting in the breeze had dampened her bed. She enjoyed the rains for a while, holding on to the window frame and then shut it. The management of Gita Ashram had approached her to take on the role of secretary of the department since she had come back to Vrindavan. However, she had declined. She did not want to take part in in any activity which could tarnish her peace of mind with strain. It was strange that now she did not feel anything troubling her... Neither did she recall the past or forgotten things nor did anything irritate her, almost as if Krishn had applied a soothing balm on her. Now she devoted her entire time in reading religious and philosophical volumes. Then there was a routine to follow at the ashram, in which she was part of the community of other people living there. She spent a few days in Vrindavan after arriving from London and then travelled across India for two months. The tour of the religious, historical and pilgrimage places infused a new life in her. The Indian culture had made a radical change in her life. She now felt that life was a gift from God to her. What could she give to God in return? Did she have the ability to give him anything? Where did she have the means... where did she have the courage... so, the only thing was to merge herself in Krishn... add her life with Him. She travelled to every corner of India, carrying this maxim with her. She often went to the banks of the river Yamuna in the evenings. Krishn‟s favourite flower, kadamb was in full bloom. Yellow flowers hanging like beads, their fragrance billowing in the wind. The rainy season‟s small creatures, insects and man-made kites were in a frenzy. It was a season of love. The level of water in the river Yamuna had risen and along with it the flow of Ragini‟s thoughts had sharpened... the more she contemplated, the more intricate her thoughts became. Suddenly, the bank of river erupted with the laughter of children. A group little children who take the cows for grazing had arrived and were joyfully eating the sweet and sour kadamb fruits. Some were trying to pick up the fruits while the others were trying to snatch them away. Ragini watched all this for a while. She enjoyed it immensely. A naughty boy came to her and placed a fruit on her palm, “Will you eat this?” Ragini laughed. She ate the fruit and said, “Yes... it is quite tasty.” “My mother cooks curry out of this.” “Okay... Do you like it?” “Yes, very much.” The boy showed her how to throw it up in the air and pop it into the mouth. By then more children had come over. There was a collection of fruits in front of Ragini. It was time for the evening aarti. Ragini collected the fruits in her handkerchief and gave them to the boy who had brought the fruits first. “Take this and tell your mother to make curry out of it and bring it to me. I will meet you here at this place.” Mike appeared at a distance, walking towards her… a saffron dhoti, kurta and a tripund on his forehead. His right hand in his silk bag, he was chanting ‗Krishn-Krishn.‘

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“Oh Mike, when did you come from Mathura?” “Today itself... I live in both the places, Mathura and Vrindavan. Ragini you have done a very good thing by accepting ISCKON. This world is a farce. It will be very good if you accept Krishn‟s shelter as early as possible.” The children surrounded Mike and Ragini. “Oh! How did you fall into their clutches? They are very naughty.” “They are naughty because they are the friends of Krishn.” Ragini touched their cheeks one by one and showed her affection for them. They laughed merrily and went away to making more mischief. The shadows began shortening. Ragini looked towards the opposite bank of the Yamuna, wishing the day to become longer by delaying the sunset a little. The sun merged into the Yamuna gradually as it touched the village Barsana and cast a golden hue at the other end of the Yamuna, spreading its love. The Yamuna trembled; every particle of the river quivered... birds floating on the waves fluttered their wings... Krishn‟s flute could be heard... Where are you Radherani? Ragini and Mike began walking briskly to attend the aarti in the temple. Suddenly, there was a flash of lightning in the sky. A dark cloud appeared. The bolt of lightning struck the clouds. A strong wind began blowing. The humidity in the air made them realize that it would rain, so they quickened their pace. It had started drizzling by the time they reached the gate. The droplets of water twinkled like tiny diamonds on Ragini‟s hair. The aarti commenced. Drums and mazeere were sounding and the devotees of Krishn were in a frenzy. The flames of the aarti put the lightning to shame.Then it started raining heavily. The cool, tempestuous winds touched Ragini‟s heart. She sat in the temple resting against a pillar as she ate the Krishn-prasad. Swami ji‘s sermon was going on in the ashram, “When son Shukrdev went leaving his father Vedvyas forever then Vyas ji ran after him with folded hands... Come back son, listen to my anxious call. Do not leave me forever. But where was Shukrdev going to listen to him? He did not even turn back to look at him. He left the cry of his father far behind. The trees of the ashram saw his pain and helped him understand. ‗You are trikaldarshee, you can see all the three; past, present and future; you know that Shukrdev will not return‘. Vedvyas wrote Shreemad Bhagwat to receive liberation after his son left, in the pain of separation. Which epic should she write? Is it possible to erase the memories of those people who have fallen away? Will she also have to pick up a pen to inscribe all her memories? Was it possible? Why was she trying to attach all this to her empty heart? There is nothing in a „zero‘, not even the possibility of anything.

***

Leaving behind the banks of the river, she reached the cows which were grazing in the fields. The bells tied around their necks were tinkling melodiously and made her stop for a while. She waited for a moment and then stepped down onto the footpath. The freshly grazed grass spread a pleasant fragrance in the atmosphere. She sat down on a large boulder. Her heart began swaying again. How much had she left behind? Krishn had never been a miser in giving her prosperity. But he did not give her a partner. Kanhaiya... you are always surrounded by the first queen, queens and gopis, how will you understand my heartache? You are really a chaliya.

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She felt something crawling on her feet inside her jaipuri mochadi. She saw two or three veerbahuti stuck in the beads of her mochadi. She jerked them away gently. The boulder had become cold and darkness was descending. She stretched her arms and felt as if she was embracing the entire creation in her arms, the earth... the sky, winds, weather, hailstorms, snow, heavy rains, thunder and lightning, the darkness... she felt everything engulfed in her arms... as if she had become light enough to fly effortlessly in the wind... there was neither defeat nor victory... neither wounds nor hurt... neither blood nor pain... I do not exist here... so what kind of pain... I have merged with Krishn. Now I do not see anything except Krishn... Ab to beli fail gayee kaha kare koi... She arose from the boulder and started walking towards Gita Ashram. Her feet started traversing the narrow footpath following Krishn‟s footprints. The yellow and purple flowers raising their heads swayed aside to give her way. The branches of the trees started bending in front of her. The birds in the nests started chirping and fluttering their wings. The titaharee began singing the raga of ti…ti...ti...ti...ha... Nature was giving her the sign, now you are without any fault. You are in the Almighty and God is within you... Every branch began speaking, and swaying with the flute... the world seemed to be in a passion... an extraordinary kind of love started blooming.

***

Swami ji called her near him. She was attracted by a magnetic hypnotism. Swami ji‟s shining eyes, his bright forehead with a tripund, janeoo on his broad bare chest and the rudraksh garlands, saffron coloured dhoti and khadaoon in his feet... she bowed down. Her long, pink fingers touched Swami ji‘s feet. Today she had worn a saffron saree, blouse and a rudraksh garland. She had pleated her hair. Her fair, marble-like body and black eyes... the whole ashram was alight with her charm. Swami ji gave her a bowl of sandalwood paste, “Apply chandan on your forehead... you are Rukmani from now on, not Ragini, Sadhvi Rukamani.” Ragini‟s lips quivered, she wanted to say, „Rukmani was the first queen of Krishn, I am Radha, Swami ji who had taken birth Krishn‟s shadow. All of a sudden, the change is too much for me, a new birth, a reincarnation... Ragini… erased. Swami ji dedicated her to Krishn. All the devotees of Krishn sitting there seconded her name as Rukmani in one voice. A wave surged through her body... there was one Krishn and one Krishn was everywhere... Every face was of Krishn... every eye was of Krishn... every lip was of Krishn, every trial was of Krishn. She put her trembling finger in the wooden sandalwood paste bowl, then tried to draw lines on her forehead, but could not do so. Swami ji himself took the bowl from her and put a tilak on her forehead. He kept his hand on her head and chanted a shloka as he applied the tilak on her forehead. The waves of the Yamuna of her heart began rolling high. The naughty Krishn was attracting the waves of her heart like the moon. That‟s why she had been attracted towards Prayag and then to Vrindavan, just as the young birds hatched in Siberia which is thousands of kilometres away and come to Bharatpur every year... every spring.. during the season... what kind of instinct is this Swami ji? “Latika, Sadhvi Rukmani‟s heart is anxious, take her for rest.” Ragini was indeed anxious in the form of Rukmani. Her past was crumbling... the walls had collapsed. She was under the debris. Krishn had held out his hand towards her to rescue her, as a saviour. There was a flute in his hand, a flute which could lure the world... but was helpless in front of Radha... whenever Radha wished, she used to hide the flute. Kanhaiya used to appeal to

Translated by Sheel Nigam Page 179 of 181 THAMES KI SARGAM her to get his flute back, he used to decorate her with flowers to please her... fondling the soles of her feet... patting her to sleep on his lap. In spite of such love, once he departed from Radha, he did not meet her again. What kind of love was this... which seemed to be bounded by limitations... which could not seem to break any walls... though everybody knew about their love? Nothing was hidden from anybody. Then in which bond were they tied that they could not meet each other in their lives ever again... what kind of separation had they taught the world? Krishn was embroiled in the war of Karma after separation from Radha. Then how could he play the flute? Worldly duties and love... two banks of life... banks which cannot meet each other and without whom the river of life cannot flow. Ragini was in a state of continuous meditation, immersed in thoughts of Krishn. All literature on Krishn is kept in Gita Ashram‟s library, published by the Gita Press from Gorakhpur. Ragini‟s thesis is also kept there in the form of a book. Thinking, reading and contemplation... is the daily routine that Ragini is confined by. She has learned how to sing bhajans and play the flute. She plays in the evenings; resting against a maulshree tree. Her attire is only a saffron saree, blouse and a rudraksh garland. Swami ji says that Rukmani has become Krishnmay, she has merged with Krishn. Is this the culmination of the saga or the beginning of the last act? END

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