Part 29
“Look Amma, look at
your darling Bittuji, is this the way to speak to his elders? It is your fault;
your pampering has spoiled him totally. He has forgotten his manners”
“Why are you always blaming him? I know you were jealous of
him, jealous because you felt your children did not get the same love from me
which Bittuji got but why do you forget I never treated him as my grandson, he
was my youngest son and he still is. By the way, what was wrong with what he said?
If he wants to stay here with us, he has every right to say so!”
“Amma, how can he stay here? He doesn’t realize what he is
saying. If he stays here, what will happen to his career? Do you want him to
stay unemployed all his life? Don’t you know he has a job to join?”
“There is no need for you to worry about his job; your
father will get him a good one.”
“ Amma, why are you acting so dumb? Times have changed.
Babuji will not be able to get him a job, not even a peon’s job. Whatever jobs
there are in Kashmir are only for Muslims now.”
“I don’t know about all that, all I am interested in is that
Bittuji should stay with me”
“There is a better way of doing that. You go with him to
Amritsar and he will always be with you”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Makhan Lal that we
are not going to leave this place?” Babuji used Bhaisahab’s real name only when
he was angry or emotionally disturbed.
“All of you please desist from saying anything further. Let
us have breakfast now” Amma commanded and no one dared to ignore her orders.
“Now I understand why Bittuji lost his temper. Poor fellow
must be famished. What are we going to have?” Bhaisahab sounded relaxed now;
after all it was a matter of food.
Khalid brought a pile of Kashmiri rotis on a plate. He also brought
kehwa along, kehwa,the Kashmiri tea.
“Are we going to have dry rotis? No butter, no eggs?”
Bhaisahab asked.
“Bhaisahb, if you remember, we never used to have anything
with rotis, only tea or have you forgotten?” Amma’s voice was still stern.
“But Amma, you don’t know how tasty these rotis become when
we have them with butter or with eggs?’
“I don’t want to know. Now start eating.” I enjoyed eating
these Kashmiri rotis. As I stretched out my hand to have one more, my hand
touched an empty plate.
“Where have all the rotis gone? There were so many of them!!
I asked in mock surprise because I knew Bhaisahab had done full justice to his
stomach.
“Doesn’t matter, Bittuji, we had a lot to eat yesterday so
better to give our stomachs some rest”
“Very clever, Bhaisahab, you ate almost all the rotis and
now you are telling Bittuji to eat less. You haven’t changed a bit. Once a
glutton always a glutton” This was Babuji, remarking in a lighter vein.
“Babuji, you are accusing me without any rhyme or reason. I
only had, let me see, five rotis, I swear!”
All of us laughed simultaneously, even Khalid joined in. For
the first time, in the last couple of days, I saw Bhaisahab looking somewhat
abashed. He was smiling sheepishly.
“Don’t you worry, Bhaisahab, you can have more, rotis are
not more important than you!” Amma said with motherly affection.
After we finished our breakfast, Babuji suggested we move to
the drawing room.
“Many people will come to meet you today so we better sit in
that room” He said, looking at both Bhaisahab and me.
Babuji sat in his favourite armchair and started reading the
newspaper. He was dressed up for the day. Today he was wearing a camel coloured
coat and brown trousers. A perfect match! Bhaisahb sat on the floor, leaning
against one of the many bolsters in the room. I sat down at the place where
Amma usually sat. It seemed like old days. This was the room where all the male
members of the family would gather after breakfast, normally on Sundays or
holidays. Babuji would be sitting exactly as he was sitting now. There would be
a lot of talk, every subject under the sun would be discussed and heated debates
used to be very common, shouting each other down used to be the order of the
day. The only difference and a very great one at that, was the drastically
reduced number of people. Where had all the others gone and why? What was it
that had changed the whole atmosphere of the room, not just the room but the
whole house? Were the Muslims actually responsible for this funereal
atmosphere? Did they hate us? Did they want to eliminate us? I kept on thinking
but could not find any satisfactory answers. I recalled the way I had been
welcomed by my old acquaintances; they had been full of love and affection. How
could this be termed as hatred? But Bhaisahab said they could not be trusted
and maybe he was right. I was not old enough or wise enough to understand all
these things.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of loud snoring. I
looked towards Bhaisahab. His head was comfortably resting on the bolster; he
had stretched himself fully and was sleeping as if he did not have a care in
the world. I would have loved to sleep the way he was sleeping but my mind was
totally preoccupied. I had made an impetuous announcement that I would not
leave Kashmir. Why had I done it? Wasn’t I aware that if I did not leave
Srinagar immediately, I would be betraying Anita and being cruel to her as well
as myself? My staying in Kashmir was not possible. Bhaisahab was worried about
my career; I knew that there was no need to worry on that front. Lots of job
offers would come my way but there would be no Anita.
“Bittuji, were you really serious about what you said in the
living room? Do you want to stay back? Don’t make any hasty decisions,
especially decisions based on emotions. We don’t need anyone to look after us,
we are happy and contented the way we are. We bear no hatred for the Muslims,
they have no ill feelings for us, we live in peaceful co-existence, the way we
used to earlier. You carry on with your life and we will carry on with ours.”
“Babuji, frankly speaking, I don’t know much about what is
going on in Kashmir. But how can we allow you to stay here by yourselves and
that too at this age. You need your near and dear ones with you. Lalaji is all
the time worried about you. He told me that I should not come back to Amritsar
without you and Amma.”
“Do you know how many old couples are staying by themselves?
I am not talking about Kashmir alone; I am talking about the whole world. I am
sure you must be aware of many such couples in Amritsar. Daughters get married,
sons get jobs far outside the city or even abroad. Who looks after their
parents? How many parents accompany their sons to foreign countries? My dear
Bittu, this is the way life is. At this age, no one wants to leave their native
places. Your Amma and I have spent all our lives here and we would like to see
our lives come to an end in this house itself. Death is going to come in any case;
we have reached an age where the call from above can come at anytime. I would
prefer being killed by a bullet in my home rather than dying a natural death in
a foreign place”
I had never heard Babuji speaking in this manner and for
such a long time. He was always a man of few words but today he had opened out
his heart to me. I could feel tears rolling down my eyes. I wiped them off quickly;
I didn’t want Babuji to see me in such a state. Whatever Babuji had said made
perfect sense. We had no right to uproot them from the only home they knew and
the only place they loved. We feared for their safety, we were afraid they
would fall victims to the bullets of some mad men. How justified were our
fears? Considering the number of Kashmiri Pundits who had left, fearing for
their lives, the fears were not unjustified. But the logic with which Babuji
had explained everything could also not be faulted. Death could come to a
person anytime, in any form, at any place. One could die in an accident; one
could die of a stroke. I could have been one of the many Hindus who were killed
in Punjab but as Babuji said, the call from above had not come for me, at least
not yet. Everyone likes to die in the place of his birth. I was reminded of the
words of a Hindi film song-‘Hum jahan paida hue, us jagah hi niklr dhum’-(Let
me take my last breath in the place where I took my first)
I realized we were not being fair to them by forcing them to
leave. But there was a voice within me which refused to remain silent. Bittu,
how can you leave them like this? They need someone to be with them, someone
who will satisfy their emotional needs. You should stay back, Bittu, at least
for some time and see how things work out. Whatever you are today and whatever
you will be is because of them. How can you forget all the love and affection
that they gave you? They gave in to each and every demand of yours, reasonable
or unreasonable. Don’t leave them, Bittu, don’t!
If I stay with them, I will lose Anita. How I can I even
think of a life without her? I have to be in Chandigarh by the 10th,
I must leave tomorrow otherwise Anita will be forced to marry someone else and
the fault will be mine. No, Bittu,no, it will not be your fault. Remember the
last conversation you had with her over the phone from Amritsar? Didn’t she
tell you that she would never allow herself to be pressurized by her parents?
Do you recall her words? She said that under no circumstances would she marry
anyone else? She made a promise to you Bittu and you should trust her. Have
faith in her love. Stay back Bittu, stay
back. No matter what they say, Amma and Babuji need you at present more than
anyone else does. Think, Bittu, Think!
.
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