Uday Prakash - The Walls of Delhi

After supper that night Mohandas took Devdas and Kasturi with him down to the Kathina. Kasturi had collected all the seeds and kept them safe in the folds of the sari at her waist, and had hoisted Devdas firmly on her shoulders. Long-grass rope, a spade, and trowel were slung over Mohandas’s shoulders.

A few little breaths of the cool river air, and it wasn’t long before Devdas was off in a deep sleeping reverie. Kasturi and Mohandas got to work filling the seedling holes he’d dug with the cow dung fertiliser and planting the various seedlings for the fruits and vegetables. It took two hours before the work was completed. Kasturi brought water from the Kathina in a ghari pot and sprinkled it over the seedbeds; Mohandas was transfixed by her beauty under the twinkling starlight. In the waning moonlight, Kasturi’s dusky body looked just like the old stone statues that lay outside the little temple of Malihamai, the ones brought after their excavation from Benheru talab. Kasturi matched those beautiful bodies — her waist, arms, breasts, legs — as if a sculptor had spent years doing nothing but carefully chiselling her form.

It was well past midnight; they could hear the occasional sandpiper or pankukri. All Mohandas could smell was the scent of the sweat on Kasturi’s body, mixed with the heaviness of the river air. What sort of dreams did she have when she married him — and then how did things turn out? From morning ’til night, day in and day out, without fail, good times or bad, healthy or sick, whether food was on the table or not, she was there, standing beside Mohandas. He felt a deep bond with her, utterly intimate, and he couldn’t stop staring. She placed the clay jar down on the sand, stood up, and began braiding her hair. Mohandas approached; she was silent.

‘Fancy a game of kabaddi?’ Mohandas suggested with a little smile. ‘Hu, Tu, Tu, it’s like wrestling!’

He grabbed hold of her arm, and began tickling her stomach and armpits. She tried to squirm away, ‘Arré, arré, you’ll wake up Devdas, what are you doing? Pleasestop pleasestop pleasestop!’ When she realised Mohandas wasn’t about to let go, she gave him a little push, broke free and ran toward the river. She leapt like a mad doe, suddenly free, running beneath the hazy, dimming light of the celestial bodies in the sky that shone on the sandy bank that stretched off as far as the eye could see.

‘C’mon and catch me if you c-a-a-a-a-n-n-n! And if you do, I’ll know you can and more, ’ she teased, her voice trailing off as she ran far into the distance, her shadow vanishing.

‘Hu, tu, tu, I’m coming after you!’ Mohandas said as he set off at a sprint toward her.

Kasturi quickened her pace, but Mohandas was catching up. As she ran faster, giving it all she had, her feet splashed water on the riverbanks. ‘C’mon and catch me if you c-a-a-a-a-n-n-n!’ She was getting winded. Mohandas’s ‘Hu, tu, tu, I’m coming after you!’ grew closer with every second. She realised she wasn’t going to be able to get away, but nonetheless gave it one more go — and just as she was picking up speed, Mohandas managed to catch up with one great leap and grab hold of her; they plunged into the waters. ‘Lemmego! Lemmego!’ she said trying to fend him off, splashing him with water, but Mohandas just held on tighter. His breath and her breath commingled in the wet river air. He tickled her as before, this time yielding great laughter. She dropped her false resistance, and in the middle of pushing him away, her body slid up right to his, like iron to a magnet.

He flipped her down onto the shallow riverbed and slid atop her. ‘My sweet little beauty!’ And he began to kiss her. They flopped and splashed, unbound in the cool waters of the Kathina, as if they were two young fish, maybe a gonch or padhit, frolicking under the hazy, flickering stars in that hot monsoon midnight. Occasionally a sweet scream of delight emerged from deep in Kasturi’s bosom, piercing the night’s stillness, and mixed with Mohandas’s heavily breathed ‘Hu, tu, tu tuuuuu!’

An exhausted Kasturi emerged from the water and fell asleep in her soaking wet sari, Devdas at her side. As for Mohandas, he remained lying in the shallow waters of the Kathina river for who knows how many hours, eyes fixed on the gods in the sky, and singing:

Birds are singing, chirp chirp!

Chirp chirp but where is my sweet lover?

My lover in this cherry blossom season?

Wild cherry where have you gone?

How to tell my cherry I am ready but not yet ripe?

Mohandas had such a sweet singing voice that night that the lapwings and pankukris in the far-away distance heard his song and joined in.

That night would later be remembered as the beginning of Sharda.

It was a good year for muskmelon and watermelon and vegetables in general, but the price remained low at the market, and there wasn’t any real profit to be had. Again Kasturi was pregnant and had to take on more work, while Mohandas toiled like an animal. While that one time the Kathina had heeded his prayers, afterward its waters often crested high, its current gobbling up a month’s worth of Mohandas’s labor. Kaba’s cough began to worsen, but Mohandas met an excellent doctor, Dr Wakankar, who worked six miles away at the government hospital in the neighbouring village, and explained that TB drugs were available free in the hospital, and that his father should get the full course of medicine. The doctor gave him a plastic bag with a full two months’ worth of the drug. But Kaba wasn’t capable by himself of taking the medications on time, and he didn’t take his meals or eat according to any sort of normal schedule. Dr Wakankar also told Mohandas that his mother could have an operation done that would restore some of her eyesight, but it would run to at least ten thousand. He gave his word to Mohandas that if ever an honest district collector came to the area, he’d arrange the operation; but years passed without an honest district collector coming to the area. In the meantime, a young man and woman from an NGO started visiting their weaver-caste neighbourhood, and made all sorts of promises about some project that would greatly increase their quality of life. The two youths filled out a bunch of forms, and had Mohandas sign them. But then the visits stopped; later they found out that the two had got married and gone to Delhi. She was working for a TV channel and, thanks to an uncle of his, he’d been set up with a cushy IAS job in a slum development, and was now opening his own foundation, taking trips crisscrossing India and the globe.

Time marched on with Mohandas and Kasturi somehow managing to survive by the grace of Malihamai and their own hard work. Sharda was two, Devdas four. Kaba now spent most of his time stretched out on the cot. Sometimes he’d help make some long-grass rope or husk the bamboo. But his cough got worse and worse, and he was so skinny you could count his ribs. Sometimes it seemed as if he were spewing chunks of his own flesh mixed with the blood. And meanwhile some bigwigs had found a way to have Dr Wakankar transferred to some other district, leaving no one in the hospital who would provide the TB drugs free of charge. Whenever Mohandas went to inquire, he was told to come back next week. Kaba had weakened to the extent that he just lay on the cot staring silently at the ground after each fit of coughing. Insects began to recognise the sound of his hack. Yellow and black ants set off in droves the moment his spit hit the spot next to his bed where he spat. A swarm of horseflies attacked the moment he coughed, nearly giving Kaba a heart attack, and it looked like the end was near. He tried calling out for Putlibai, but was seized in a coughing fit before he could get the words out; finally, he ended up filling his cupped hands with a mass of spit and blood and tissue. Mohandas and Kasturi had been gone for a while looking after the plantings at the river’s edge, and blind Putlibai was the only one at home. She went tripping and scrambling to Kaba’s side, began touching her husband’s body all over, crying. Rheumatism had stiffened her joints over the past year. Kaba lay absolutely still. After a little while after his breathing steadied he began to chastise Putlibai.