Arundhati Roy: The Ministry of Utmost Happiness

Sixty years had gone by since Jahanara Begum had taken her son Aftab to Hazrat Sarmad and asked him to teach her how to love him. Fifteen years had passed since Anjum took the Bandicoot to him to exorcize her sifli jaadu . It was more than a year since Miss Jebeen the Second’s first visit.

Jahanara Begum’s son had become her daughter, and the Bandicoot was now a bride. But other than that, nothing much had changed. The floor was red, the walls were red and the ceiling was red. Hazrat Sarmad’s blood had not been washed away.

A wispy man with a prayer cap striped like a bee’s bottom held out his prayer beads to Sarmad beseechingly. A thin woman in a printed sari tied a red bangle to the grille and then pressed her baby’s forehead to the floor. Tilo did the same with Miss Jebeen the Second, who thought it was a good game and did it many more times than was really necessary. Zainab and Saddam tied bangles to the grille and laid a new velvet chadar trimmed with tinsel on the Hazrat’s grave.

Anjum said a prayer and asked him to bless the young couple.

And Sarmad — Hazrat of Utmost Happiness, Saint of the Unconsoled and Solace of the Indeterminate, Blasphemer among Believers and Believer among Blasphemers — did.

Three weeks later there was a third funeral in the old graveyard.

ONE MORNING Dr. Azad Bhartiya arrived at Jannat Guest House with a letter that was addressed to him. It had been hand-delivered by a woman who would not identify herself, but said the letter was from the Bastar forest. Anjum didn’t know what or where that was. Dr. Azad explained briefly about Bastar, the Adivasi tribes that lived there, the mining companies that wanted their land and the Maoist guerrillas who were waging a war against security forces that were trying to clear the land for the companies. The letter was written in English, in tiny, cramped handwriting. There was no date on it. Dr. Azad Bhartiya said it was from Miss Jebeen the Second’s real mother.

“Tear it up!” Anjum roared. “She throws away her baby and then comes back here saying she is the real mother!” Saddam stopped her from lunging for the letter.

“Don’t worry,” Dr. Azad Bhartiya said, “she is not coming back.”

It was a long letter, written on both sides of the pages with whole passages scored out, sentences running into each other as though paper was in limited supply. Between the pages there were a few pressed flowers that had crumbled when the papers had been folded into the pellet that was delivered. Dr. Azad Bhartiya read it out, roughly translating it as best he could as he went along. His audience was Anjum, Tilo and Saddam Hussain. And Miss Jebeen the Second, who did all she could to disrupt the proceedings.

Dear Comrade Azad Bharathiya Garu,

I am writing this to you because in my three days time in Jantar Mantar I observed you carefully. If anybody knows where is my child now, I think it might be you only. I am a Telugu woman and sorry I don’t know Hindi. My English is not good also. Sorry for that. I am Revathy, working as a full-timer with Communist Party of India (Maoist). When you will receive this letter I will be already killed.

At this point, Anjum, who had been leaning forward, listening with rapt attention, rocked back, looking visibly relieved. She seemed to have lost interest. But gradually, as Dr. Azad Bhartiya read on, she grew riveted again and listened without interrupting.

My comrade Suguna knows to send this letter to you when she hears that I am no more. As you know we are banned, underground people, and this letter from me you can call as underground of underground, so it will take minimum five or six weeks to come to you through a safe channels. After I left my child there in Delhi, my conscience is very much bad. I cannot sleep or take rest. I don’t want her. But I don’t want her to suffer also. So in case if you know where she is, I want to tell you her frank story a little. Rest is for your decision. Her name that I have gave her was Udaya. In Telugu it means sunrise. I gave her this name because she was born in Dandakaranya forest during sunrise. When she was born I frankly felt hatred for her and I thought to kill her. I felt really she was not mine. Really she is not mine. Really if you see her story that I have written here, I am not her mother. River is her mother and Forest is her father. This is the story of Udaya and Revathy. I, Revathy, hail from East Godavari district of Andhra Pradesh. My caste is Settibalija which comes under BC (Backward Caste). My mother’s name is Indumati. She is a SSLC school pass. She is married with my father when she is 18 years. Father worked in army. He was older to her by many years. He saw her when he was home for vacation and fell in love because Mother is very fair and pretty. After engagement but before marriage Father was court-marshaled from army for smoking near the armory. He came to live in his village which was on opposite side of Godavari river from Mother’s village. His family is same caste, but was rich than hers. During marriage ceremony itself they made my Mother to got up from the pandal and demanded for more dowry. My grandfather had to run for loan. Only then they agreed and marriage continued. Immediately after marriage Father developed some perversions and sadism. He wanted Mother to wear short dresses and do ballroom dancing. When she refused he cut her with blades and complained she was not satisfying him. After some months he sent her home to my grandfather. When she was five months pregnant with me my Mother’s younger brother took her back to Father’s village in a boat. She was dressed in a very good sari and jewelry and took two silver pots of sweets and twenty-five new saris for her mother-in-law. Father was not there in the house. In-laws refused to open the door and came out and kicked the pot of sweets. Mother felt very much ashamed. On the way back, in middle of the river she taked off her jewelry and jumped from the boat. I was in her stomach five months then. Boatman saved her and took her home. I was born in my maternal grandfather’s house. During pregnancy time Mother’s stomach was huge. She was expecting twins. White color, like her and her husband. But I came out. I was black and weighty. Seeing my color Mother was unconscious for two days. But after that she never left me. The whole village talked. My father’s family came to know how black I was. They had that caste and color feeling. They said I was not theirs but a Mala or Madiga girl, not a BC but a SC Schedule Caste girl. I grew up in my grandfather’s house. He worked in Animal Husbandry. He was a communist. His house had a thatch roof but many books. When he became old my grandfather became blind also. I was in school then I would read to him. I would read Illustrated Weekly, Competition Success Review and Soviet Bhumi. I also read the story of the Little Black Fish. We had many books from People’s Publishing House. Father would come to my grandfather’s house at night to trouble Mother. I would hate him. He moved around the house at night like a snake. She would follow him, he would torture and cut her and send her back. Again he would call her and again she would go. For some time afterwards he took her and kept her with him again in his village. Again she became pregnant. In my grandfather’s village the women prayed for her second baby to be also black so Mother could be proved a faithful wife. They sacrificed thirty black hens in the temple for this. Thanks god my brother is born also black. But then again Father sent Mother home and married another woman. I wanted to be a lawyer and put my father behind bars forever. But soon I became influenced by Communism and revolutionary thinking. I read communist literature. My grandfather taught me revolutionary songs and we would sing together. My mother and grandmother stole coconuts and sold them for paying my school fees. They bought me small things and kept me very fashionable and many boys liked me. After passing Intermediate I sat for Medical entrance and got selected but we had no money for fees. So I joined government degree college in Warangal. There Movement was very strong. Inside forest, but outside also. In my first year itself I was recruited by Comrade Nirmalakka and Comrade Laxmi who would visit women’s hostel and talk to us girls about exploitation by the Class Enemy and terrible condition of poverty in our country. From college itself I worked as a part-timer and courier for the Party. Afterwards I worked in the Mahila Sangham — women’s organization, creating class awareness in slums and villages. We became a channel for Party’s communication all over Telangana. We would travel by bus to meetings carrying booklets and pamphlets. We would sing and dance at protest meetings. I read Marx and Lenin and Mao and became convinced of Maoism.