1. I
had been a difficult student for the village school teacher, Dharam singh. I
did not like him from the first. The day I joined school, He was standing near
the entrance with a thin bamboo stick. I got the ominous sign. Later I found he
had a habit of demanding small gifts, some jaggery, tobacco for his pouch. One day he asked me to bring him a dung cake
for his hookah. I did not and he caned me. The cut left a stinging pain in my
back. No body had done that to me before, not even my Father. Half an hour
later I was still smarting from the pain. Suddenly I remembered the heap of big
stones outside the school entrance. I got up without a word and went outside.
Picked up half a dozen stones in my shirt front and started hitting my teacher.
The lame man could not be swift enough to avoid three of them. I also hit two
boys who tried to catch me. Then my mother appeared and I fled. That was my
last day in the village school. After a fortnight my father took me along to
Nasirabad, a military cantonement, near Ajmer in Rajasthan.
2. I
found it fascinating. It was a new world. People dressed differently, spoke in
strange languages and were always neatand tidy. Ram Swaroop, my father’s
orderly took care of me. He could do so many things, cook, polish shoes and
keep the house neat and clean. Best of all he played with me. On the following
morning he showed me the latrine as he called it, where I was to relieve
myself. Back home one had to go out in the wilderness and do it behind a bush
and here! In the house itself, I was shocked. One day while I was on the the
seat, relieving myself I heard astrange dragging noise, somebody was pulling
out the pan from under me. That is how I met Laila.
3. Laila
is a celebrated beauty in the ancient immortal love story called Laila-Majnu.
It is retold practically every evening someplace or another in India
andPakistan. It is the basic plot of novels and films all over the world-lovers
agony after separation. My mother used to narrate it to us sometimes. This
Laila was an antithesis of the famed Lover. She was a ‘Bhangi’, both, by trade
and caste. Perhaps the lowest in the social order of those times, 1945. The job
required her to manually dispose off night soil and keep people’s latrines
clean. She was an untouchable.
4. Laila
was a dowdy woman, aging prematurely, always dressed in a pale yellow salwar
suit. It may have been white, when new. It had an intricate flowery design,
faded and rotting at places. She did not seem to be embarrassed by one of her
nipples protruding from a hole in her sweat-worn kameez. Her hair was
permanently plastered with sweat and dust. Laila had cataract in one eye, which
made her look hedious. She never looked directly at anyone. Her eyes were
permanently moist and diaphanous. I peered into them once to guess how she
felt. There was nothing. Laila worked
barefoot though She had a pair of Jutis, which she wore only after finishing
work. If a thorn pierced her foot she did not wince, just pulled it out and
went on with her work. She truged to and fro, sunrise to sunset, , from the
latrines to the Keekar.
There was a cart and a few drums, for collection of
the poop, under the Tree. These drums and the cart were a permanent fixture and
monopolized what little shade the tree provided. She had cleared a spot under
it for herself.There were three sweepers in all. Two cleaned the barracks.
Laila cleaned the latrines.
5. Laila
cleaned the latrine in the houses and then the Gamlas (pans) in the barracks. What
she called Gamla-a word used for Flower pots, was actually a tin container to
be placed in the latrines to hold the poop. The poop dropped into the pans and Laila
had to clear them after every use. Three times a day, there were forty pans in twenty cubicles. Laila emptied
the pans into the drums and placed them
next to the black cart. Later she emptied the drums into the cart. That was her
job, morning and evening, day in and day out. Then one of the sweepers yoked a
bullock to the cart and took it away, to be emptied and returned to the
spot.
6. Laila was careless, she often filled a
drum to the brim with the result that when she put it on her head the poop
spilled over, trickling down the sides, along her face and soiling her Kameez.
She would continue the work as if she has not noticed it. Cleaning herself and
changing into another salwar-kameez when her work was done. In the mornings it
took her at least three hours. Then she cleaned the sheds. Later she would then
sit under the tree for a while and eat the home meal she brought. She usually
finished just before dusk. Then she would sit under the tree for a while.
Finally picking up her tin can, some firewood and clothes she would trudge homeward.
.
7. Laila spoke rarely and briefly, like when my mother
poured tea into her tincan and gave
her a roti. She would nod and whisper ‘aap ka bhala ho’(fare thee well) with a
barely perceptible smile. She would sit down to eat just outside the courtyard
door, in the dust. No one would tolerate
touching her even by accident. She sipped the tea noisily. Taking big bites
from the roti in between sips. Done, she would rise with some effort, burp, and
get back to work.
8. My mother
was a good cook, she particularly liked to make Puris and Zira-Alu, my
favourites, on Sundays. During monsoons,
the family favourite for breakfast was Sweet-Parathas. Father would be with us
at breakfast only on Sundays, which made it an event of sorts. We would sit
outside the verandah of the rasoi and watch the puris frying in the
sweet-smelling ghee. I sat next to my father. There was unending chatter and teasing.
I always got the first Puri, being the youngest. This Sunday was special, last
before the school reopening. Besides there was a steady drizzle and a soft
breeze adding to the cheer. At my request Mother was making Sweet Parathas. I
thought of giving a Paratha to Laila. Mother did not like my request but , with
a nod from father, I prevailed.
9. I spotted laila in the lane and asked her to
come for tea. I waited impatiently for her as she trudged heavily from the
other end of the lane. At last she settled down, I poured the tea into her tin-can and dropped
the Paratha in her pallu. She took it casually, as usual, ‘Aap-ka-bhala Ho’.
Suddenly there was a dogfight in the lane. Three dogs had cornered a pup,
snapping at it threateningly. The poor pup barely visible in the melee was
howling at his loudest. I stood rooted to the spot at sight of the horrifying
situation. Laila sprang up with uncharacteristic agility, jumped right into the
pack and snatched the pup from jaws of certain death. By then father had
arrived on the scene, he shooed the dogs away and took me inside. Laila soothed
the pup with a piece of her paratha. She was never seen alone after that day, the pup always
at her heels wagging his long tail.
10. The
next morning, still drowsy from sleep I walked out to school with my elder
brother. We had to go by the Tree where laila would be at work. We hurried past
it with our fingers on both nostrils because of the stench. It was suffocating
even after some distance. I did not like the work Laila had to do. ‘Someone has to do it’ but she did.
11. Father
was very keen while listening to the radio those days. A neighbor also came every
evening to hear the news. Father had been telling us for some days that very
soon the firangis would go back and Hindustan will become Azaad, independent.
He seemed very happy when he said it. He
told us Hindustan will become rich very soon when the firangis go. I told Laila
what father had said. She just looked at me and rtesumed her work. I was disappointed, I
had hoped she would be happy on hearing the news. There was infact a glow on
every face but Laila. After a few days Father told us not to go near the
barracks opposite our house, when we go to the temple, in the evenings. There
were two barracks for the musalmans and then five for our soldiers. He said all
musalman soldiers had been put in the two barracks for they had to leave
Hindustan once the Fringis go. He told us to go farther down, so that our Hindu
soldiers would be watching our safety as we passed. We felt a tinge of
excitement whenever we went past the Musalman barracks. We could see some of
them staring out of the windows. They looked like sheep in a pen. Laila kept
cleaning those barracks as before.
12. Everyone
was waiting for 15 August, the day of Independence from British rule. There was
a palpable excitement everywhere. Surprisingly, I noticed Laila crying one day
as she went about her work. She did not come for the tea also. Next day Mother
asked me to call her. Laila came sobbing and sniffing. She would not drink the
tea but Mother persisted and made her take it. On Mother’s persuasion Laila
came out with her distress. Sipahi Mohammed, the only person she knew and who
visited her sometimes was leaving for Pakistan. He had refused to take her
along. Mother thought for a while and then, with a sigh, assured her “Hindustan
mein reh, unka kya bharosa”. Laila looked back with disbelief, “What can be
better for me, he was the only one who spoke
to me and helped sometimes. Mother looked up and said, “ Voh sab ka bhala karta
hai”, with that she dismissed the matter and went inside. Laila cried some more.
then picking up a gamla from our latrine she walked away towards the barracks.
13. At
last the day came. Father brought us white caps and said we had to wear whenever
we went outside the house. These are Gandhi caps, made from Khaddar, keeps the
head cool, he had said. I liked the cap and wore it next morning to school. There were white caps on everyone
but my friend Sheikh. I wondered and asked him. I am a Musalmaan, he replied. I
did not understand what that had to do with a school cap but he was sullen and
I let it pass. At school the Head Master, Mr Ericsson, gave a
lecture, after prayers, and said he was
giving us a holiday to celebrate 15 August. everyone got a hankerchief and some
ladoos. There was a beautiful map printed on the hankerchief. I decided there and then to give them all to
Laila. We came home walking and jogging, happy at getting a holiday, a new
printed hankerchief and sweet ladoos. I saw Laila as we neared home, she was
walking to the Keekar tree with a load. I went for her unmindful of the hateful
stench. She had barely put down the drum she had been carrying when I put the
Hankerchief full of ladoos in her hands. She took it, aap ka bhala ho’ mumbled
something, and walked away.
14. We did
not stay there much longer afterwards. The firangis left. Father got a
promotion and also one of the huge bungalows the firangis used to live in.
Mother was very happy. She gave some more sweets and one of her old suits to
Laila. We all went to see the bunglow we were going to live in. It was really
big and had a vast compound, as much as a football field. There were tall trees
and some smaller rooms on one side. A big kitchen and running taps. It was
simply wonderful. I came back and told Laila about it. I asked her if she would
also come with us. She did not answer.
15. Next day
we packed and loaded up everything in a truck. Finally mother asked me to call
Laila, “ tell her we are going, I have some food left over for her”. I found
Laila carrying a pan from the house next door.
She looked sick or maybe she had cried. ‘Mother is calling you’ I
shouted from a distance. Presently Laila came with a plate and collected the
food. We got into the truck andas it picked
up speed with a roar, emitting a plume of black smoke, I saw Laila going back
towards the Keekar Tree, the pup at her heels. She did look back. She had
reached the treewhen the truck turned a corner I saw her pick up a drum.
16. I did not
see Laila again but whenever I see a woman carrying a head load, I see Laila
and her pup and a Keekar Tree.
