Mahashweta Read online

  Anand felt responsible for Anupama’s misfortunes. Why had he allowed his sense of fairness and his judgment to become so warped that he had turned away when she had needed him the most? Why had he shirked from honouring the vows he had taken when he had married her? Why had he assumed, all these years, that his mother was right? A deep sense of guilt and shame pervaded his mind.

  Whatever I have done was wrong, but the time that I have lost cannot be recovered. However, I must rectify the mistakes I have made and shape the future properly. I will beg Anupama to forgive me. She is far superior to anyone I know—in morals, intellect and conduct. With new-found determination he got up.

  Looking at his face, Radhakka asked him, ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I am going to bring Anupama back into my life again. I just hope it is not too late.’

  It was Deepavali, the festival of lights. All of Bombay seemed to be exchanging gifts, consuming enormous quantities of sweets, and throwing parties.

  Satya had left for Mysore where his mother and sisters were eagerly waiting for him. Anupama had helped him buy gifts for his family. When he had tried to buy her a sari as a gift, she had refused to accept it.

  ‘Satya, I have everything I want in life, and I am very thankful for that. When I need something I will definitely ask you.’

  Vasant had tactfully intervened, ‘Satya, buy lots of crackers for Anupama and I will help her burn them on Deepavali night.’

  Since Vasant did not have a family with whom he could celebrate the festival, Anupama invited him home.

  ‘Vasant, please stay for dinner. I have called my students, too.’

  Vasant happily accepted her invitation. It had been a long time since he had celebrated Deepavali. How different it had been in his childhood! Even though they had been poor, they had celebrated the festival with great enthusiasm and in keeping with its true spirit. His mother would give him a leisurely oil-bath early in the morning, despite his protests. And then she would prepare sweets for the festival. Although they had lacked the comforts that money could buy, their poverty had cast no shadow on their happiness.

  Vasant arrived early at Mary Villa on Deepavali. He had bought a collection of Bernard Shaw’s plays as a gift for Anupama. She looked relaxed and cheerful, as usual. Watching her, he wondered if she had ever felt any unhappiness. Her face always glowed with contentment—it was as if she was one of the lucky few who were happy all the time.

  ‘You shouldn’t have bought me a gift, Vasant.’

  ‘My mother taught me never to go empty-handed to meet a friend.’

  Anupama’s mind suddenly went back to her mother. She did not have a single photograph of her. If she had lived, she would probably have given her advice just as Vasant’s mother had.

  Vasant was looking at the beautiful rajanigandha, marigold and cosmos blooming in her garden. They were all dancing in the evening breeze in harmony with one another; and yet, they were all so different. He looked at Anupama and, noticing her silence, said, ‘It is difficult to forget one’s mother, isn’t it?’

  Sadly, Anupama answered, ‘I never had the luxury of knowing my mother. It is impossible to replace a mother’s love.’

  With her father, it had always been more a bond of duty than love. When she had got a job in Bombay, she had sent half her salary to her father. But she had never felt like going back home. She never shared her difficulties with him either. Her father had mixed feelings about her. He was happy that Anupama was economically independent and had settled down. But he was an old-fashioned person; and he felt that she should go back to her husband. He believed that a woman’s ultimate sanctuary should be her in-laws’ house—single women were not respected in society. Shamanna was worried that people would gossip about her and it would reflect on him. He repeatedly wrote to her to plead with Anand to take her back, and not get upset with him. Anupama found such advice distasteful after the emotional trauma she had endured. Despite that, she knew that Shamanna cared deeply for her.

  One day, a telegram came from the village—Shamanna had died of a heart attack. With his death, the last link with her past had been severed. Sometimes, she felt that perhaps her problems and the way she lived now had caused him unbearable tension and ultimately his heart attack. But Anupama was unable to cry. There was no point in returning to her old house now that her father was gone. Anupama sent some money, which she had saved with great difficulty, for her father’s last rites.

  Unexpectedly, she got a four-page letter from Sabakka.

  In life, one should not take the things people say so seriously. I might have been harsh to you, but that was only because of the tensions at home. When you got married into a good family, we thought you would settle down well. But when things went wrong, we faced a lot of problems. Please forget all those things. Bombay is a big city and you must feel lonely. If you want, I will send Nanda to keep you company. I am going back to my mother’s place. My brother will help me find suitable alliances for my daughters. Your sisters do not have a father now and you, being the eldest, should step into his shoes and look after them. Your financial help is very essential for your sisters’ weddings. . .and so it continued.

  Anupama was disgusted. The same person who had spoken of Anupama as a ‘bad omen’and a ‘rejected wife’ among other things, knowing very well how those comments would hurt her, was asking her for help today. All her life, Sabakka had taunted Anupama and made her cry. But now that she was earning, she had suddenly become important. Anupama felt sick. But somewhere, deep inside, she felt she had a duty towards her stepsisters. She decided to send money just as she had when her father had been alive, but have nothing to do with Sabakka and her daughters. Emotionally, they meant nothing to her.

  As for Anand, he, too, had shown with his actions that an emotional bond could be broken all too easily. I am truly alone.

  ‘Anupama, what are you thinking?’ Vasant’s voice broke into Anupama’s reverie.

  ‘How do you define beauty?’ she asked.

  Vasant was startled by her abrupt question. ‘I am not a philosopher or an artist, so my opinion on the subject is immaterial.’

  ‘Still, I want your opinion,’ Anupama insisted.

  ‘Nature has taught me all that I know about beauty. Look at these flowers, Anupama, they come in so many different colours and fragrances; the sky with its myriad shades of blue; and the birds each one so different from the other. No artist can recreate the vibrant colours of nature on canvas. We think we know all about beauty, but what we understand is that external beauty is shortlived. Even the most beautiful people change as they grow older. But the beauty of Nature is permanent.

  ‘Once I was travelling with my friends through the Valley of Flowers in the Himalayas. The sheer beauty of the valley made me realize how foolish human beings are to seek artificial beauty with cosmetics.

  ‘One’s beauty is seen in one’s nature. A good human being who is compassionate to others, who tries to understand the other person’s difficulties and reach out to them in their hour of need has real beauty. Such people should always be cherished and honoured.’ His passionate speech surprised even Vasant. He saw a flicker in Anupama’s eyes, but did not know that she was thinking about Anand. Anand had been bright, sharp, and intelligent, but very immature! He had never ever thought of beauty in such terms.

  Just then, Anupama’s students bustled in and, pushing back all thoughts of the past, she stood up to greet them.

  ‘Vasant, this is Vinuta, Shashi, Rekha. . .’

  ‘Ma’am, we know Doctor Vasant. We met him when you were in the hospital.’

  Anupama smiled and Vasant felt as if a thousand lights had been lit in the room.

  Anand was going to his father-in-law’s house for the first time. But instead of feeling happy, he was consumed with shame and guilt. He had known that Shamanna was a teacher who lived in a small village, but he had never thought of visiting him there.

  At first he had thought of writing to Shamanna to