Pages 422, 423 & 424

     "The vermin deserve no mercy.  None will testify against them and they're guilty anyways, to hell with them."

    "Are you saying you'll gun down any one associated with the Committee the moment you find them?" despite his loathing for what was happening Jagat was focused on Gogi.

At the moment he was no freedom giant of yore, only a supplicant trying to save Gogi.

    "I can't protect Gogi.  The orders come from above," said the SP nervously playing with his short police issue steel shod cane, thinking about the many unnamed Naxalites shot to death under his command; for him killing a Naxalite was like slaughtering chicken for the evening meal.

    "Tell whomever your orders come from that Jagat Singh Qaadian was in.  If  you or anyone else captures Naxalites, don't kill them.  As for Gogi hand him over to me and he'll be a danger to none."

The SP told him the police orders emanated from the Chief Minister of Punjab; the state and the police were the first in the country to invent the fiction of fake encounters to hide extra judicial killings.

The stench of the open sewer invaded Jagat's nostrils as he exited the complex. A few feet away waiting for Jagat was Kirti,

    "Baba ji I saw fear in the SP's eyes," he said.  He had figured out Jagat's identity.  His father was a fan and Kirti insisted Jagat not travel this late to Chajjuwara.  Kirti talked of his poverty as they rode to his village nearby and soon they were at his mud home where his only sibling, the sixteen years old Pammi, no longer enrolled at school since her mother Samundi's death, was at the chullah.  Afraid of increasing the family debt Samundi had suffered severe abdominal pains in silence and died from appendicitis.  The stomach pains took my Samundi would say Samunda, both heir names shortened from 'Samundar' as in ocean.

    "Bapui, look who's here to meet you?" said Kirti to Samuinda returning from the khooh.  Even in the dim light of the deeva, Samunda who lived with an unfathomable depression recognised Jagat and huge grin appeared on his wrinkled and toothless face;

    "Wow Jagat Singh Qaadian, my lion of Punjab!"

Jagat, too, smiled and said, "Our work not finished yet."

    "Yeah, we're still not free!"

Jagat nodded as Kirti served them a simple meal.

Pages 417, 418, 419, 420 & 421

     "After all Qaadian and khooh is in my blood, tugs at me. So here I am."

 Jagat was still searching for more words when Gamma said, "I'm worried.  Gogi had left home to live with extended family but he was in still in Qaadian and safe, so I accepted it but it was harder for Puro.  Sorry I kept it from you but he packs a gun, roams from place to place hiding from what: Puro doesn't know.  She'll die if she finds out what her only child may be up to."

    "I'm worried too; that's why I came as early as I could."

Gamma told him more; the morning after the Banto and Dushmun murders, Gogi had come to the khooh, first time in ages, happy and relaxed and said he just wanted to see how the khooh and everyone was doing.

    "He was carrying a gun then too, I don't know what to do.  Do something before ill luck strikes."

    "I don't know where to begin," said Jagat.

    "And there's more I never told you.  He hated me and Puro living with you 'sucking up to the upper caste' he said and hated you even more for 'pretending to make us equal'." Jagat felt angry and hurt.  Gogi was in danger of killing or being killed.

Pages 411, 412, 413, 414, 415 & 416

breathed free in the British jailcells felt suffocated in the courtroom and stepped out for fresh air.

In the chambers the Judges Bharat Khanna, Nanak Ram and Krishan Singh in leather chairs, huddled around the oak table over cold drinks.  Several minutes into the deliberations Khanna said,

    "It's evident that Jagat was managing the Trust as per the settlors' wishes.  Had he embezzled the funds he would have hired a capable lawyer.  He's clearly indigent.  Above all he makes a persuasive argument for an adjournment pending a court ordered police investigation.  I'm sceptical of the hurried interim court order handing the management of the Trust to Congress."

    "Krishan and I aren't persuaded by Jagat's arguments or your rendition of them," said Nanak.

    "I know of him.  He's Jagat Singh Qaadian, the storied freedom fighter who spent years behind bars.  He won't ever lie.  It's a shame to refuse him justice but you win two to one."

    Nanak's and Krishan's judgement was read by Bharat from the bench dealing Jagat an unjust loss and Ram an illicit victory at which Nanak and Krishan smiled and nodded agreement.

    "I, Jagat, expected better from you all; but Ram obviously turned evil, Nanak, Krishan and Bharat stood helplessly mute; there's no hope for the country," Jagat exploded.

    "Yes, out parents named us Krishan, Nanak and Bharat; don't insult our namesakes for our judgements," pleaded Krishan.

    "I dissented from the majority judgement of Nanak and Krishan but I's helpless, outvoted as I'm as you can see."

Jagat's blank stares glanced at the lion emblem the smiling Gandhi portrait and felt the, too, mocking him.

Several days after the defeat handed Jagat by Krishan, Nanak and Bharat, the bungalow received a letter postmarked "Calcutta".  Its convolutions contained the sender's identity and message: Sangram is fine; he is not coming home.  The completeness of his youngest son's intellectual annihilation depressed an already wounded Jagat.  Ideology had become Sangram's God and he its messenger and it brooked no attachment except to itself.

    "Sangram knows we may be worried, he wants us to know he's alright," said Ratno trying to comfort Jagat.

    "How can people think they can sit in some dungeon in Calcutta and change the country," Jagat said before resuming to read the newspaper, combing it for any piece of good news to reassure himself.

    "Radio Peking has reported a Maoist uprising in Naxalbari, s small hamlet in West Bengal.  Armed peasants took over land of powerful landlords.  Several peasants and police were killed," he read.  The communists rebels had achieved international notoriety but there was no trace of Sangram and he was worried. 

    "I'd told the idiot to not go near violence," fumed Jagat one moment, calming down the next upon remembering the contours of his own experiences.

Past midnight a knock on the door of the drawing room woke Sujata up.  The light from the ceiling bulb fell on the man's face. 

    "Sorry to wake you up amma.  I'm hungry.  I haven't slept in a bed for days." Soon he was eating the left over dal and rotis in the kitchen.  Sujata moved his towel on the table to make room for a glass of water.  A pistol fell out, "It, it's, someone had given it to me for, for safekeeping," said Gogi.  Sujata did not want to pick a fight this late at nigt and he went to sleep on the sofa in the drawing room.

The middle aged Chunno, the new help, was up early and after washing the night's utensils she made tea; Jagat was already in his rocker and Ratno was watering the lawn.  Sujata woke up and saw the three of them and suddenly she remembered about Gogi and walked over to the drawing room and found no trace of Gogi on the sofa.  From the pot on the chullah she poured herself a cup of tea and walked over to the veranda.

    "Ratno Bhen, I slept in today.  Did you see Gogi here in the morning?"

Jagat's ears perked up.

    "No.  Was he here?" asked Ratno.

    "He came at midnight.  I fed him and put him up on the sofa for the night.  He's gone and you know, he had a gun on him."

Until he heard the words midnight, gun and Gogi together Jagat's world had begun to calm a little.  Jaggi was sending regular albeit small amount of Rupees to the Qaadian and Chajjuwara households.  Ratno had hired spinster Chunno to help cook, clean and maintain the yard.  Having stopped reading the Tribune after Shiv's death Jagat now woke up in the morning to go for a walk, buy the Trib and sometimes one or two other newspapers on the way, return to sit on the rocker, sip tea an read them.  If Ratno and Sujata happened to be nearby he would read aloud the headlines for them.  The grass in the front yard had become greener and the roses livelier, thanks to Chunno.  Reaffirming life, pigeons, sparrows and an odd parrot, too, had returned to the bungalow.  Though Sujata hadn't fully recovered from the blows of Ram's henchmen--the injuries limited her ability for household chores--but she was a happy warrior helping Ratno and Chunno peeling and chopping veggies, sifting dry lentils to remove any impurities.

Qaadian was still in the grip of the old feudal order: Gundu's family controlled the school committee; the big zamindars of the committee hired and fired teachers at will without regard for merit; the small village dispensary had been upgraded into a hospital but it too was in shambles.  But there was one change for the better; the road from Haveli to Qaadian had been asphalted saving pedestrians from plumes of dust kicked up by cars and buses.

A few days ago the family had bid adieu to Dhumma after which Jagat had to return to Chajjuwara for Pratap's funeral, the deaths reminding him of his dawning mortality.  Gamma was old and unable to manage the khooh by himself.  The thirty year old Mungoo, a tall sturdy bachelor chuhra from a neighboring village was hired to live and work at the khooh for a fixed monthly pay ind addition to food, shelter and clothing.  He helped Gamma manage the khooh while Puro had Guddi, a thirty two year old unmarried chamaar woman, help with cooking and cleaning.  An orphan she had been brought up by her father's younger brother who had recently die in an accident.  His children and the widow began to physically and emotionally abuse her.  The elderly Puro took her in as a live in help.

Two or three times a week Jagat would wear his white khadi kurta pajama, don a white turban and with laces tied on his black shoes he'd peddle to Qaadian.  As the wind hit his face, even on the slow moving bike his white beard would part in the middle to flutter on his cheeks.  His walking stick tied to the bar like a magic wand, despite the battles raging within, he would resemble a flying angel on a mission to assist some needy soul.

Gamma had finished taking the buffalo to the challah and tied her under the mulberries when he spotted Jagat riding toward the khooh.  It brought a smile to his toothless fade.  Seeing Gamma brought back Gogi's words to Jagat: "Seeking atonement of sins of oppression against the untouchables by treating a few lower cast men and women as mothers, uncles, brothers and sisters won't change the fate of the untouchables."  Gamma too had been chided for cowardice by his son.

    "Brother Gamma, did you ever feel that you and I were any less than blood brothers?"

    "No Bhaaji, you always loved Beeru, Dhumma and me like brothers we felt we're. But that didn't make it so for Qaadian.  Not your fault."

There was silence.

    "Have you seen Gogi recently?" asked Jagat.

    "One night he came by, left long before daylight, seemed restless and had only a few winks of sleep.  I wanted him to go home and see Puro.  He was in a rush and seemed running from something," said Gamma.

    "Did he say where he was going?"

    "No, but I noticed something black, like a piece of metal, a small pipe. He hid it under his pillow, didn't let it out of his sight.  He drank raw milk from buffalo's udder and left before sunrise."

    "I'm worried he had come to the bungalow in the middle of the night and left long before daylight."

    "Bhaaji he kept talking about the Party and said it had him travelling all over Punjab; got the feeling he was on the run for or from something."

    "There's been violence in Bengal and it's creeping into Punjab.  In Bengal many people and police have been killed."

Through the canopy of mulberries Jagat saw clouds gathering and before Qaadian and his path to Chajjuwara got lashed by rain he wanted to be in the bungalow.  It was hard for the old body, being beaten and drenched by the monsoons; he quickly said goodbye.

By the time the downpour began Jagat was in the veranda on his rocker and it rained heavily for quite a long time.  In the words of James Joyce Jagat had remembered, the rain impinged on his small world of the bungalow.  But he like this impinging imagining it slaking the thirst and longing of earth.  Chunno had made poor day, the comfort food of the villagers in the never ending Monsoons which Sujata, Ratno and Jagat were eating while sipping hot tea though for Jagat  comfort was proving elusive.

     'Why would he show up carrying a gun and disappear, all in stealth, under cover of darkness," Jagat blurted turning to Sujata.  Sujata remembered and told Jagat about Gogi mentioning Sangram during his visit to the bungalow.  Just before leaving for England, Jaggi had mentioned Gogi and Sangram belonged to the same group.  At the moment the group's article of faith was killing--in their words annihilating, class enemies so marked by the leadership.  Gogi's movements all made sense to Jagat and he worried about his and Sangram's safety.

Early in the morning Chunno saw Jagat enter the kitchen.  

    "Papa Ji  take your blanket and place in the rocker and I'll make tea for you.?

Looking at the empty table where Gogi had sat with the gun, he said, "Yes please make the tea," the white beard and clothes hiding his turmoil.  He ate his breakfast and had tea before biking away.

Gamma was in the veranda of the hut as Jagat biked up.

    "Bha you're here just yesterday.  So early in the morning, everything okay?"

 

 

 

Pages 404. 405, 406, 407 ,408 ,409 & 410

 Chapter 56: Taking Stock

A few days later, his tea gone cold on the stool, Jagat sat alone in the veranda, his mind took stock; Ram estranged, Boss dead--possibly killed, Shiv and Sameer killed, Sangram underground somewhere in the country -- incommunicado in the violent communist movement and as good as lost, Jaggi in England, Teg married to a woman who didn't want him to have anything to do with Sujata, Gamma and Dhumma getting old in Qaadian, none knew where Gogi was, Hassan the teacher was dead and Jagat didn't know whether his son Hassan had found his family in Pakistan.

In the stillness of the veranda, Jagat measured the sped and quantum of death and separation in his life.

As he looked over the yard from the still rocker, his mind strayed to the jail cells of yore.  He pondered purpose and hope, for then and now.

The postie walked through the gates and handed him a letter from Gobinda Singh; the court was to hear Jagat's appeal regarding the Nath Trust and Gobinda needed to see him.  Next day Jagat rode the bus to Zillapur and as he walked from the bus stop to Gobinda's home his mind wandered to the earlier walk there the day the mansion was seized by Ram.  Shiv killed and Sujata injured; the ghastly scene in front of the padlocked gate haunted him as he neared Gobinda's home.  Wiping the sweat off his forehead, the bottom folds of his turban drenched in it, he knocked on the gate of Gobinda's new home; the sign 'Tera Ghar'--your home meaning God's -- was missing, perhaps yet to be painted, he thought.  A servant opened the gate and led Jagat to a large room decked with law reports and large ornate desk with the matching leather chairs.  The servant asked him to sit on the bare steel chair and brought him a glass of water.  He sat on the hard steel chair for several minutes before moving to the comfortable leather one and soon Gobinda walked in and asked him to move to the steel chair.  Jagat ignored his insolence and sat in the leather chair as Gobinda told him Ram had obtained an interim order from the appellate court to vest in him the sole power to manage the Trust.

    "Dis you even notify me of the hearing? I can't understand how the nub of the case can be decided pending a final decision by the court?"

    "Legally you've a strong case.  You were appointed by the settlors and the courts are extremely reluctant to override their intentions--"

    "Why couldn't you notify me of the hearing that decided who got possession of  --"

    "My clerks and assistants cost a lot of money.  I need 10,000 Rupees."

It took the yesteryears' fierce Shiv debater a few moments to regain composure to say,

    "Gobinda, I don't have that kind o money.  You had told me it was a good cause and you'll help."

Rising from the chair, Gobinda turned away and said, "Jagat Singh ji, in that case, I can't help you."

The contents of his fie in hand Jagat walked away and rode the bus back to Chajjuwara.  The jerks and jolts of the bus negotiating and driving over the potholed road felt much like the contours of his life's journey; lots of bumps, very little smoothness and on the bus he was going over the latest disappointment.  Gobinda had told Jagat to look him up if he ever needed help because he "appreciated Jagat's sacrifices for the country," Jagat wondered what had changed between then and now; his mind wandered to what Gobinda had said to him the first time at his 'Tera Ghar': "Jagat Singh Ji your party Congress rules the center and many states.  It probably keeps you busy."  Therein lay the answer; Gobinda wanted to be connected to power.  Like others, after independence he had expected Jagat to be in power but Jagat was powerless; in power was a different breed, like Ram.

Several days later Jagat was in the veranda preparing the arguments for the Trust appeal when he raised the cup of tea gone cold to take sip and saw a man in a kurta pajama and flip flops, a khadi bag hanging over his left shoulder, cross the open gate into the yard.  Without a sip he placed the cup back on the pile of papers.  The clean shaven man looked familiar.

    "Sat Sri Akal ji, Papa, I am Gogi."

    "Oh Gogi, come beta come.  Ratno bring some water for the puttar.  Beta, take Ratno's chair.  Tell me how're my brothers Gamma and Dhumma and your mother Puro? And tell me about yourself? How have you been; I haven't seen you in a long time?" a smiling Jagat had million question for Gamma's son.

    "I haven't been to Qaadian lately.  Last time there I'd spoken with Jaggi. He must've told you."

    "No beta, he didn't otherwise I'd have sent for you.  Not seen you for a long time.  What have you been up to?"

    "Gogi beta, your papa speaks often and fondly of you.  After losing Sameer and Shiv he told us to not grieve because we still have three sons, you, Sangram and Jaggi," said Ratno handing Gogi a glass of water as Gogi looked away.

    "You must to to Qaadian to see Gamma and puro; they and Dhumma have only us."

    "I've no parents, not Gamma and Puro, nor any of you.  the Party is my family, its members my siblings, just like they're Sangram's.  Instead of fighting castes and classes my parents joined the rich and powerful, becoming our family.  Papa is part of the problem," said Gogi putting empty glass on the ground.

    "I'll tell you how the castes shall end.  This party vaarty of yours, they weren't around when Jagat helped liberate the country.  You think we're still slaves.  May be, but no longer of the firangis.  I'm chuhri, a Valmiki.  Jagat and the Naths always treated me as no less than themselves.  Insulting Jagat won't achieve you your dreams," said Sujata, her eyes bloodshot and lips trembling.

Jagat wanted to speak but feared it might come off wrong.  He was searching for words when a shaking Gogi wagging his right index finger at Sujata, said, "You? Traitors like you prolong our servitude, afraid of offending those who throw crumbs at us in return for utter submission.  Huh, I've had enough of these lectures.  Your kind is master of sophistry."

Jagat was still silent Gogi turned to him, "It's you who sucked my parents into the bondage you call Qaadian Ashram.  We can't ever be your family.  the independence you got us is the slavery of the comprador bourgeoise."

Gogi had struck inside Jagat; perhaps he was the devil Gogi believed him to be; he had certainly been selfish in welcoming the men and women who were inclined to throw their log in with his.  Having them around benefited him.  did they feel as he did or did they have any qualms about the wisdom of their decisions, it had never occurred  to him to ask? to ask now may sow doubt in their minds about his commitment to them.  Not to ask and yet suffer was for him an apt cross to bear for being blind to the basic questions about the power they may have presumed he had with which they probably sought to associate.

    "We'll now bring about the real revolution based on Marxism, Leninism, Mao Se Tung Thought," said Gogi rising.

Finally Jagat did manage to say, "Gogi beta, don't go just yet.  I need to tell you something."

    "What could you ever say that might interest a revolutionary," said Gogi standing clutching the cloth bag over his shoulder.

    "We all do what we believe is right and often we do blunder, God knows I have and often.  Along comes the future without fail to question the wisdom of history's actors; the future may do well to remember the motive forces they had to contend with.  I'm already off the stage of history, watching what you and others will make of the country that you think we've betrayed--"

    "I don't need any lectures from one who in the name of freedom sold the country to..." Gogi thundered  and walked away.

Jagat shouted, "Beta please go see your parents before you go what you call underground.

Gogi walked away looking back, not even once.

Atop the stack of Ashtaam Papers and pleadings of the Trust the same cup of cold tea untouched.

Pages 399 to 403

Chapter 55: Lethality and Illegality

The evergreen leaves of mango trees of the Nath mansion seemed discoloured and its brilliant roses dull.  The most talked bout home in its glory day had lately suffered its share of bad luck; Ram and the Congress had won the first round in the legal battle over the Trust.  the court decision had cast doubt on the extent of the Trustee's discretion and thwarted the clear expression of the Nath's' intention to vest sole power in Jagat to do as he saw fit but the question of possession was yet to be determined by the appellate court in the appeal filed by Jagat.

The hostel had been closed because assessing the scores of annual applications and the selection of students had become quite overwhelming for the aging trio of  Ratno, Sujata and Jagat.  The Trust continued to pay Sujata's caretaker's salary, mansion's basic expenses and distributed the remainder of the Trust's earnings to the deserving and needy educational institutions.

Jagat had been anticipating hearing from the lawyer Gobinda Singh about the appeal.  For quite a while there had been no communication from hi; so Jagat decided to take the bus to Zillapur to go see him and Shiv insisted on going with him to see Sujata and Teg.  From the bus stop Shiv walked to the bungalow and Jagat to Gobinda Singh's home to discuss the case.  Not finding Gobinda home, Jagat left a note with his Munshi asking for a progress report.  On the way to the mansion, after a long bus ride and long walk in Zillapur, he savoured the thought of sitting in the garden sipping a steaming tea with biscuits talking to Sujata before dinner.

As he neared the mansion he noticed household things strewn outside in front of the gate and hurried wondering what lay ahead;  Besides the padlocked gate a bloodied Shiv lay comatose and Sujata sat against the wall crying in pain.  Waving his arms for someone to notice he yelled and screamed for help.  A rickshawala stopped, helped Jagat load a limp Shiv and wounded Sujata on the rickshaw and rushed to the hospital.  Shive died in the doctor's hands and holding his dead son in his lap Jagat's emotions overpowered his steely stoicism and silent tears, threatening to become screams, poured out of him. Sujata's wounds dressed, broken arm plastered and placed in a sling, she sat next to him with her uninjured arm around him.  Her weeping eyes darted from the corpse to the near corpse Jagat as the doctor advised her bed rest in the hospital but she insisted on leaving with Jagat and Shiv's body.

Jagat and Sujata took a cab with Shive to Chajjuwara and all the way he story of what killed Shiv tumbled forth from Sujata's lips repeating itself.  Ram showed up at the mansion with uniformed police and goons wielding Guns and lathis.  Shive and Sujata stood at the man-gate screaming for help from the onlookers and passersby but seeing policemen, goons and Ram in pure white ironed khadi, the new symbol of absolute and corrupt power in independent India, none came to their aid.  Shive and Sujata placed their bodies in the way denying Ram and his henchmen entry into the mansion; the armed men broke Sujata's arm and Shiv's skull; two men with guns dragged them out and stood over them as they lay bleeding while their companions ransacked the house throwing Sujata's and Teg's personal belongings out on the road and that is where Jagat had found them.  Sujata talked nonstop; she would tell Jagat what happened ending at the point he found them outside the locked gate and she would begin a new and retell, and tell and retell she did until the taxi entered the bungalow.  Jagat hadn't her retelling thinking it may be what she needed at the time to live on; he certainly did.  From the moment he saw them injured and bleeding amid the scattered personal belongings he had moments when he wanted to kill Ram, shoot him with guns Jodh brought him during the raullay.  He knew it was wrong to even think that; he was no longer the man who had almost killed Jewna.  Hearing her tell and retell the tale of woe, like the woes of the countless others of new India, helped him grieve.

The family and friends from Qaadian, Chajjuwara and Shiv's classmates and friends attended the funeral following which Sujata and Jagat submitted a written report to the superintendent of police for Zillapur.  Despite his repeated entreaties the police didn't commence an investigation because it would have meant investigating itself.  He took some solace in the bitter truth he wasn't alone, most were suffering at the hands of the new rulers.  When the country killed the Mahatma, Jagat had comforted himself by saying it was the work of the right wing religious fanatics but now with increasing frequency the governments betrayed Mahatma's creed, his people and his country.

A month had passed since Shiv's murder; it was just before noon; a full cup of cold tea sat on the stool next to Jagat in the rocker as his mind wandered; no sparrows chirped in the yard; the thorns overwhelmed the roses in need of deadheading.  The postie walked through the gate handing him a letter from England, Jaggi's first, and he savoured caressing it between his old wrinkled hands; Jaggi had been gone for over two months.  Jagat called Ratno to come read it aloud to him and Sujata who was in her spot in the veranda; her hovel taken over by the squatters, bungalow was now her home, too; her arm had no sling or cast but she hadn't fully recovered.

Ratno tore open the aerogramme and began reading: "Dear Father ---"

    "Stop stop, read it again it sounds so nice to hear 'Dear Father'---both words beginning with capital letters, at least in English."

Sujata and Ratno just watched him in silence, his eyes shut and a smile on his lips under he said, "Alright Ratno, read."

    "When I got here Sameer was no more."

    "What? Are you sure you're reading it right? Read it again!"

She did; he let our a scream which the neighbourhood couldn't have missed.  Ratno and Sujata, both wiping their tears, stood next to him, patting his shoulders and back until Sujata tore away, brought a glass of water and put it to his lips; he took a sip, amid the sniffles cleared his throat and said, "Okay Ratno."  Ratno read:

    "Sameer and Dorothy Doherty had met at college, both taking evening classes, he to do his masters, she to take courses preparing to go to university to do her Ph.D. in English literature.  A plumber's daughter she had battled her widowed racist mother to maintain her romantic relationship with Sameer.  They loved each other and planned o marry.  Every week, once or twice in the evenings, after  the classes, they trekked to their favourite, low ceilinged and old watering hole near the college for rendezvous over pints of Guinness; the beer Dorothy told me Sameer loved.  One night as they exited the old pub through its squeaking doors, a group of Teddy boys were walking by Dorothy and Sameer holding hands walked on. 'You dirty Paki bastard, a fucking coolie, how dare you touch a white woman,' said one of the Teddy Boys. 'And you white trash whoring yourself for this ugly Aladdin,' said another before they Jumped the couple.  Both were pushed down to the pavement.  Dorothy told me that he loved you so much papa and she says as he fell to the pavement he must have felt more humiliated than hurt, imagining you sitting in a British Indian prison cell on the other side of steel bars scolding him for coming to England to do cheap labour for the erstwhile Colonisers.  The less than a minute the Teddy Boys' steel toed shoes rained  on his head had felt an eternity to a horrified Dorothy pinned on the floor b one of he attackers until some patrons leaving the pub came to their rescue and the attackers fled.  One patron ran into the pub to call the police and ambulance while the other opened Sameer's mouth to ensure his tongue wasn't obstructing his breathing.  Ambulance took Dorothy and Sameer to the hospital where he was pronounced dead."

In the eerily quiet bungalow, Sujata, Ratno and Jagat sat quietly sobbing and consoling each other before going to bed on hungry stomachs.

Pages 394, 395,396.397 & 398

 Chapter 54: Jagat Softens Toward The Colonisers

A deep sense of personal and public failure plagued Jagat as Sameer left for England and India slipped and slid away from the honesty and ethics Gandhi had made in integral part of ahimsa for the freedom struggle.  The only bright spot: His belief Jaggi would not show him or the country his back.

    "Ratno, let's eat.  Shiv, the food is ready," yelled Jagat from his rocker.  Ratno walked over to the chullah, stoked the still live fire and started rolling the rotis.  Placing a roti in Jagat's thali she said, 

    "I'll wait for Sangram.  Here's the first roti."

    "Papa, you say it's our time to study and not worry but I feel guilty because Jaggi Bha has to bear the whole load," said Shiv.

    "Clue me in Shiv.  What are you  feeling guilty about?" asked the just walking in  Sangram.

    "Jaggi Bha, he works hard to support all of us.  Papa's and Ratno Ma's pensions, Sameer's small money orders aren't  enough.  I guess you don't know 'cause you're too busy with the communist revolution."

    "I don't see you drowning in guilt or under any load other than books," replied Sangram.

    "And you don't have sense enough to even carry the burden of books on your mind," replied Shiv.

    "Communist revolution you say? Haven't we had enough of Mao sending people to be educated in hard labour camps? Let hundred schools of thought contend as long as his is the only one real contention.  And Stalin too starved and killed millions of people in the name of this bloody thing called revolution? India has had its own orgy of violence and inhumanity, the partition. I don't want to see another bloodbath," said Jagat.

There was silence.

Under the lone electric bulb hanging from the kitchen ceiling the noise of Ratno collected the dishes from the table came as a welcome reprieve before Jaggi walked in and said, 

    "Ma, I am really hungry and how are you, papa? I see we're all together today."

    "Did you know Sangram wants to usher communist rule in India?" asked Jagat staring directly at Jagat.

Jaggi looked at Shiv and then at his mother while Jagat's gaze remained fixed at him.

    "We hoped he would stop or at least slow his rush to revolution and God knows we argued with him to change but we didn't want to force him to choose between college and Communists"

    "Ratno you knew?"

    "I knew it; not unusual for a young man to challenge the world.  You're a rebel once and I loved you for it.  You rescued me from Gundu but it was the courage at the Takia that wed me to you.  Despite Qaadian and caste I bedded you.  the rebel in me still has sympathy with a rebel with a good cause and Preeti would have wanted me to protect her son."

Jaggi had thought his mother didn't want to confront Jagat but Ratno had just showed him that even a brilliant argument must await its moment.  All the boys stared at Ratno and a debt of gratitude bubbling up inside Sangram neared his lips and they opened, Ratno said,

    "I'm not finished yet.  You want to change the country? We hadn't yet recovered from the bloodshed of partition when politicians fueled solely by linguistic, religious and political prejudices helped carve Haryana and Himachal out of Punjab and now the Maoists are baying for blood.  I don't want to trade slaver of American Dollar for the dictatorship of the Communist butchers brought up on a diet of Stalin's and Mao's gibberish."

Next day, quitting his shift at the mill, Jaggi rode to Bhondu Travels.  Bhola had his plane ticked ready to fly from Delhi but Jaggi needed the money for which it was no use asking his almost broke parents; their cupboard was bare.  His leaving for England was going to be hard enough for Jagat to bear so he wanted to spare him the humiliation of asking others for money for the plane ticket.  He had been biking around for sometime without an answer and he was hungry.  The peanut and reorian stand near the disfigured post of the arched gate was still open, its owner probably hoping for one last sale before covering it and sliding underneath to sleep because below it was the only home of the refugee of partition, his family slaughtered in the raullay in Pakistan.  Jaggi noticed his disheveled hair and sleep in the eyes that barely moved.  The man turned his eyes to the piles of peanuts and reorian waiting for Jaggi to point to one or both.  Jaggi ordered reorian for quick energy from the shucker and peanuts for the protein and walked away munching. 

On a hungry stomach the reorian tasted great and somehow the experience took him back to the exquisite taste of burfi Pratap had sent celebrating his MA results and he began thinking of Pratap as a possible source of money.  Energised by the reorian and hope he rode to Pratap's.  Pratap had just switched off his radio after listening to the latest news bulletin of the All India Radio from New Delhi when Jagat knocked on his door.  Pratap was willing to give him the money provided he would tell his father whereof he received it.

In the morning Jagat was sitting in the veranda resting in the rocker when, without even making eye contact with him, Jaggi left for work.

    "I don't know, he was very quiet today," Ratno said to Jagat.

    "He's fine, Ratno. Of all out sons he's the most caring and responsible.  I'll die in peace knowing he's there to look after the family."

The Monsoons had unleashed water from the heavens above, cooling the Sun Scorched Chajjuwara below when Jaggi returned from the work.

    "Papa you should get up once and a while, walk around the yard or outside on the street.  It'll do you some good," said Jaggi as Jagat sat exactly where Jaggi had left him in the morning.

    "Son, the tyres on your bike are bald you can slip in the rain," said Jagat who had caught a glimplse of them as Jaggi walked to veranda, "You should have them replaced."

    "Yes papa but he paved Chajjuwara roads are rarely slippery--." said Jaggi as he walked toward the kitchen where Ratno had quickly started making tea.

    "But the dirt road to Qaadian would be."

    "Mom, bring tea outside for me and papa," said Jaggi pouring a glass of cold water from the ghada.

    "Want some water papa?"

    "Sure son."

After taking a couple of sips he handed the glass back to Jaggi and asked, "How was the shift? Hope not too tiring?"

    "It's alright, papa."

Ratno brought the tea and Jagat took the first sip.

    "Papa, don't be angry. I want to leave for England, earn some money for the family and return in two years, I promise."

    "Son, I don't want you to go but your mother is right, I never sought anyone's permission to do anything."

A few days later the khooh and the bungalow bid Jaggi a teary emotion laden good bye at the Chajjuwara Railway Station just as they had done Sameer.  Jagat was sad but reconciled with Jaggi's decision; mistaken or not, human beings must be free to carve their own paths.

Pages 388, 389,390, 391. 392 & 393

Chapter 53: Hard Times

A few months after Sameer left for England Ratno and Jagat retired, as per the age bar, with small provident funds  cum pensions and sending four sons to school and Sameer to England had crippled their finances.  Jagat stopped using the car unless he really needed to go somewhere far such as Zillapur and even to Zillapur he often rode his bike.

Jaggi had written English master's final exams and begun riding his bike to and from Qaadian once a week to help the aging Gamma and Dhumma at the khooh; he was torn about England, about leaving his parents in poverty and old age.  He understood, too, and even sympathized with Jagat's refrain about deserting the motherland.  So he began searching for employment opportunities and Jagat even approached the management of Army College for a job for Jaggi who had passed with top marks in the class.  The college said there were no vacancies only to hire his classmate who had barely passed.  Jaggi searched in schools, factories and mills, everywhere and anywhere but he wanted to remain near his siblings and parents.  He took a job on the production line at the textile mill housed in what Jagat had once considered in his childhood is one of the soul destroying concrete monsters.  The mill paid less than half of what he would have made as a teacher.  The five day week at the mill allowed him to ride a bike to Qaadian early Saturday, working at the khooh for two days and returning Sunday evening.

Sameer had written Jagat several letters and sent money defraying the cost of his passage to Britain and more but Jagat didn't reply to any of his letters.  Jaggi assured Sameer papa loved and missed him, though quietly.  Jagat's sadness upon Sameer's flight from India persuaded Jaggi to abandon the thought of ever going to England.  Between the khooh and the mill he embraced family responsibility and a certain lazy comfort.  In submission to vagaries of fate Preeti's bike became his companion to and from the Mill and Khooh.  Ratno, too, felt responsibility dictated Jaggi remain biking to the Mill and Qaadian even though less a rider, more an appendage.

Disappointed Jaggi couldn't secure a teaching job for after a First Class English MA.  Jagat compelled Sangram and Shiv into choosing sciences for engineering degrees.  Soon Sangram began skipping classes and fell in with a ell linked to the Communists.  Jagat did not know it and believed the world had moved beyond Karl Marx.  The Indian communists' obedience to international communist diktats emanating from the Soviet Union or China was at best ignorance and at worst treason, he believed.

With Sangram Communism was becoming an obsession; the family pleaded with him to keep his father's health and political beliefs in mind and tried peeling him away from the Communist cell.  He denied any connection with communists but time and again Ratno found Left and Communist literature under his bed.  One Sunday Jaggi biked back from Qaadian reaching the bungalow before sunrise and woke the brothers up.

    "Hey bros I've asked mom to make tea and bring it to us in the garden.  We need to talk, just us three brothers," he said shaking both of them.

    "What about," asked Sangram.

    "About life, we need to talk.  Get up.  It's private, in the yard."

It took several minutes for Sangram to get up and make it to the yard a mere thirty yards away from his bed.

    "Sangram, I understand you're neglecting your school.  You know our finances are tight.  Despite that we want you to stay in college;  And then there is the kind of politics you may be involved with, the student groups," said Jaggi.

"The freedom movement was a failure because it helped bring India comprador bourgeoisie rule.  We're poor because papa wasted his life in the movement and what we learn in college is worthless," said Sangram looking away or down on the grass, clearly not wanting to be there.

Ratno showed up with the promised tea.  Bending down to put the tea tray on the table she searched their faces.  Shiv looked at her and then down; Jaggi glanced at her; Sangram got up and walked away.  Nobody in the family wanted to deny Sangram the privilege of college hoping he would soon return to his books.  But the finances of the family didn't concern him because, in fact, poverty was a license for easy acceptance into the communist cells.  The family was unable to afford petrol but for Sangram the decrepit Fiat stored at the end of the cracked concrete driveway remained a bourgeoisie symbol.

A few days later, after an exhausting day at the mill, Jaggi was pedaling home when he saw Sangram under the faded New India Colony gate.

    "Young bro, how are  you?"

    "No I haven't changed my mind about the communists if that's what you want to know?"

    "Done that enough already.  But what have you thought about how you might make a living once papa and mom are no more.  Just a thought I wanted to leave with you."

    "I already have a job, to bring about a people's revolution in the country.  Papa, the whole lot of you, will remain lumpen, never interested in real change."

Jaggi swallowed the insult and walked home with Sangram.  Jagat was in his spot, on Moustachioed's old rocker reading The Tribune.  Sangram nodded to greet his father and walked straight to the kitchen.  Jaggi asked,

    "How was your day papa?  According to the old Trib what's happening in the world?"

    "In Lal Bahadur Shastri's death the country's death the country's lost a good prime minister.  Now you've Nehru's daughter Indira Gandhi, why couldn't they find someone, not the son or daughter of previous PM? Feudal fealty is so embedded in India that it would spell the end of democracy.  The talk is they agreed on her because she would be easily controlled.  Gandhi's bastards believe a woman to be inherently more malleable and manipulable .... in another part of the world Albert Speer has been released. I remember the stories of Hitler's extermination of millions of Jews and Roma."

For a few moments the father and son sat in silence before Jagat asked, 

    "Son, what have you thought about your life? I'm no longer of much help but you can do better than the textile mill."  Saying, "Papa I'll see you when we eat tonight," he walked away, unable to bear seeing the desperation of his old and poor father in balancing his dreams for them with their wishes.  Disobeying his father was unthinkable but his resolve about not going to England was crumbling--culprit, the last conversation with Sangram.  As well the Pounds Stirling would make it easier to support the family.

The cloudy skies had given way to the pounding rain.  A deluge from the gutters was hitting the concrete below.  Sitting at his desk in his room lit by a bulb hanging at the end of a wire in the center of the ceiling, Jaggi grabbed his passport from the dog cared Shakespeare's Hamlet he had picked up to read a few days earlier from Jagat's books and went down to the kitchen.  Jagat, Shiv and Sangram were already there; Shiv looked at Jaggi and then at Jagat.  Jagat asked Sangram,

    "How is your school?" and then Shiv, "How about you?" Alright, said Sangram and walked away.  In shock at Sangram's insolence Jagat looked down at the table. Jaggi noticed that, Shiv's stunned looks, Ratno's silence and gestured for the need to keep the household peace.

Early next morning Jaggi stood in front of the Bhondu Travels, Idiot Travels, travel for morons its name meant.  Bhola who lived on top of the office opened it.

    "I thought you'd long gone.  You'd picked up the passport ages ago," said Bhola.

    "No, I hadn't gone.  The plane ticket for London, when can I pick it up?"

    "Come in three days and you know the cost," said Bhola.

Though later than usual, soo he was on his way to the khooh.

The Persian Wheel stood silent; the leaves of the mulberry trees hung motionless; Puro who had just brought the morning meal for Gamma and Dhumma sat under the veranda in front of the hut.  He sunken eyes framed by the wrinkled forehead below the weather beaten hut seemed in ridicule his change of heart about England; he felt they wanted to know why he was abandoning Qaadian and them.

Holding the plough Dhumma walked behind the oxen, Gamma behind him picking the uprooted weeds.  Jaggi walked over and told them Puro was waiting with their meal; he took the oxen to the challah for water.  After tethering them to the manger in the shade where they chewed food as aggressively as they had chugged the water he joined the men on the ground for the morning meal.

    "Chacha you two rest.  I'll finish the tilling." he told the older men.

Jaggi urged the oxen on; he'd been at it for two hours.  The oxen had been going since the morning.  With about half and hour's work left the ox on the inside sat down forcing the other to stop.  Jaggi unyoked them.  Freed, the tired bullock arose from the ground.  He too had learnt the art of Gandhi's ahimsa, the non-violent protest.

Cattle and men drank water, ate and rested.  In the afternoon Jaggi helped with chores including cutting hay for the next couple of days.  Saying goodbye to the old men and Gogi who had suddenly reappeared at the khooh after several years of absence from Qaadian, he began pedaling.  On the outskirts of Chajjuwara the crickets ensconced in the jujube trees chirped piercing the Monsoon night's quiet; his mind was already journeying to England.

 

Pages 385, 386 & 387

 Chapter 52: Snatching Freedom

At the kitchen table Ratno was helping Shiv and Sangram, who now went to school in Chajjuwara. with their homework when Jaggi and Sameer walked in.

    "What took you so long," she asked.

    "We stopped off at Bhondu Travels.  I've also decided to get a passport to go to England," said Jaggi.

    "Well....," said Ratno about to unleash at when she heard Jagat clearing his throat in the yard.

In the morning Jagat had insisted on walking to college "to exercise his anguish by planting his soles on mother earth."  Asking Sameer to fetch him a glass of water he dropped into the empty chair at the earing table.  Seeing the table crowded Ratno asked Sangram and Shiv who had eaten their super to go study in the drawing room.

    "Jaggi puttar, you and Sameer must go to Qaadian and disperse Eesa Chacha's ashes at the khooh and help Dhumma and Gamma Chacha with whatever needs doing," said Jagat taking off his turban and moving his right palm over the balding head.

    "Yes papa, will do.  By the way I, too, would like to go to England."

    "Silly me, all along I thought you're gone to see off Eesa by you, too, had been conspiring, as if one wasn't enough."

    "Papa has dreams for you and you're shattering them," said Ratno seeing Jagat hadn't touched his food she had placed before him.

    "What about our dreams?" Jaggi asked.

Elbows resting on the table, hands bracketing the balding head, Jagat sat staring at his food.

    "At the moment both of you're angry.  We should talk later," said Jaggi as he walked out of the kitchen; Sameer followed him through the yard.

    "The garden no longer interests papa," said Sameer looking at the neglected plants.

    "Why would it? He can no longer trust what he's already nurtured; neither the country nor his children," said Jaggi walking by the browned rose waiting to be liberated from slow death garden scissors in the hands of deadheaded.

Ratno implored Jagat to eat something, anything, "can't stop living because the sons don't listen,"  He picked up a cold roti which Ratno snatched and placed on the tava stoking the fire below.  They ate, saying not a word to each other.

    "Go to bed.  A full day of college tomorrow," said Ratno pulling Jagat by the hand to prompt him out of the chair.  She straightened out on the sofa in the front room. Both of them awake and restless when well past midnight the door of the drawing room opened ajar from the outside. 

    "Oh Mom we entered this way to avoid making noise.  Are you alright?" asked Jaggi.

    "Two grown sons out past midnight, not knowing where or why, how can I be alright?"

    "Oh, we walked over to the cinema to watch Sangram the film all college kids are raving about.  In it nothing seemed of this land except the faces and the language; no filth, no poverty, no injustice or corruption, an absolute escape," said Jaggi as Ratno rubbed sleep in her eyes.

    "An escape, yes an escape to England is what you're looking for? So what if the bloody movie was an escape, the poor need no reminders on the big screen of the misery their lives are," yelled Jagat from the top of the stairs.  He wanted to come down to the drawing room to argue his position but thought better of it because it could turn ugly.

A few days later the family from Qaadian and Chajjuwara gathered at railway platform to bid Sameer goodbye.  A few minutes before the arrival of the train the hugs began with Puro tearing up. Dhumma, Gamma, Gogi, and all others took turns embracing Sameer and  tearing up.  Ratno held Sameer in her arms and let go only as the train arrived at the platform and wiped her tears; Sameer walked over to his father and they hugged.  For the second time in his life Sameer saw tears rolling down Jagat's cheeks; first was when Preeti died.  The train swished away, Sameer waving goodbye through the window bars until he could no longer see them and nor they him.  

Pages 381, 382, 383 & 384

     "Eesa preferred cremation, he told me once.  Incineration frees the soul from the crutches of the body, he believed and not allowed to mingle with the upper castes in life, with the ashes and embers of his cremation, in death he wanted to 'pollute' the hell out of the earth they walk upon, the air they breathe and the water they drink.  He didn't want to trade the caste's prison for the cell of the burial casket either."

    "It wasn't time for him to go because there're lots of battles to fight yet," Jagat said to Sameer on the phone, his voice quivering, and immediately drove home and proceeded for a shower into the bathroom where a bucket of water sat still under the spout of the hand pump.  To awaken from the stupor into which the news of Eesa's death had thrust him, he splashed some water on his face before looking in the mirror; a few drops of water were clinging to his beard for dear life; he felt like one of those drops wanting to remain alive for the world he once dreamed would be all roses if only independence could be hurried.

In the pockmarked mirror Jagat's face appeared hazy as he pondered the past, the present and the future.  Ram had turned devil, Eesa was dead, Rahim was far away in Delhi and he felt alone.  He soon picked up Ratno and the Fiat sped up because he wanted to each the creation ground before the day's demise.  There was silence in the car.  After Ram's betrayal, Jagat had turned more and more to Eesa and Rahim.  Eesa's looming departure for Britain had been breaking his heart.  Allowing him time to grieve within himself Ratno hadn't prodded him to talk either.

Dusk was casting its shadow over Zillapur when the Fiat pulled into the cremation ground.  Ratno and Jagat got out and he walked over and stood in front of the pyre, Ratno and Sujata on either side of him.  Without saying a word he moved toward the canopy, and under it, put his hand on blackened bulge on Eesa's forehead. "Eesa's been killed," he thought, but despite that Eesa's face seemed the epitome of peace. .  Perhaps he didn't have the heart to leave the country, a reassurance Jagat needed to defeat his own despondence.  He picked up a piece of wood, rested it on the stacks around Eesa's head so it covered but didn't touch his face lest Eesa might hurt.  But Eesa was dead, forever numb to all pain, he remembered.  Suddenly he experienced an intense desire to die, to be pain free.  Never in the midst of many defeats of his life ad he succumbed to such self loathing.  He stood  there as Jaggi and Sameer placed more pieces of  wood to cover Eesa's  face.  Jalan sprinkled kerosene oil on the pyre, lit the torch and handed it to Jagat.  Torch in hand he stood there, staring at it and the pyre, the one who had torched many a pyre without flinching stood unable to take the torch to the pile of dry wood.  Jaggi put his hand to the torch and gestured Sameer to do the same and soon the flames carried embers skyward only to crash against the canopy and return to earth.  Occasionally the breeze turned into gust helping embers avoid the deathly crash into the canopy and escape to the  heavens, with them part of Eesa too ascended to heavens, perhaps he thought; Eesa did believe in heaven hell, he said to himself.

Soon Jagat and Ratno were on the way to Chajjuwara and Jagat was still silent.  Ratno asked,

    "Are you alright?"

    "I'm just tired.  Can't stand his England thing," he said keeping his eyes on the road.  The headlights of the old Fiat were not much help in the dark night.

    "You're quiet because you couldn't stay at the mansion with Sujata."

    "No, I've just lost one of my dearest friends.  I've been thinking whether life has any meaning; the prisons, the partition, the teaching, the love, the children, money, what meaning do any of them have? But as to your question, I do feel like a fraud sleeping with two women and one of hem from my own village but I can't discard the one who's there for me when I needed her, not even for a rediscovered love.  I don't know how Sujata would feel once she knows our past.  Jaggi knows, the other kids will know.  I don't want to lose my children's respect and I'm afraid I might.  Fighting them for a modicum of respect would be the end of me."

Early in the morning the boys gathered Eesa's ashes and returned to the mansion for breakfast.  The three of them sitting at the corner of the table were devouring Sujata' pranthas when she asked, "Jaggi beta, how was life in Delhi and your father, where is he?"

    "Mom brought me up.  Only she can tell you about my father.  It's complicated," he said.

    "Ratno Bhen has done such a good job of raising you, such handsome and smart beta," she said looking at him.

From Jaggi's face she saw a glimpse of Jagat staring at her and she stopped herself from thinking; she did not want to think about it; she had no right to pass judgement, she told herself.

Jaggi and Sameer left for Chajjuwara and Teg for Amritsar.

As they talked on the bus returning home Sameer suddenly called Jaggi "Bha".  A few moments later, overcoming his hesitation, Jaggi said, "Sameer, I'm in fact, your brother.  Papa's my biological father, too."

    "How can it be? Mom and Papa, both from Qaadian?" said Sameer holding tight the bar atop the seat before him, perhaps to ensure what he had just heard didn't render him unmoored.  The bus chugged along.  Suspended between acceptance and rejection by Sameer's silent stare, Jaggi explained it.

    "So you're okay with it?" asked Sameer.

    "It is hard to argue with truth.  Others would think me hramdaa, worse than a leper.  But mom and Papa love me.  I've hated them and yelled enough at them already.  I mustn't punish them for being human.  Kill them? Commit suicide? Papa's a good man, a great man really. Mom says often we don't see the greatness if it happens to live among us."

The bus stopped; it had reached the Chajjuwara bus station.

Pages 377. 378, 379 & 380

 Chapter 51: Eesa and England

Having made preparation to depart for England Eesa, for old times' sake, went to bid goodbye to Ram.  As he entered, the veranda abutting the large courtyard teemed with supplicants.  A servant dressed like a royal sentry ushered him in.  Inside on the main wall of the study in the palatial home hard bound law reports and portraits of Nehru and Gandhi framed an imperial sized fire place.  Zillapur's winters lasted no more than two months and hardly cold enough to warrant a fireplace, Eesa thought.  The Gora Sahibs had them in the cold places like Shimla but the black sahibs mimicked them in the subtropics.

Ram shook his hand asked, "Good to see you Eesa.  You don't look a day older than when we last met."

    "Now that's a lie but I suppose defending liars one gets used to lies."

    "Oh, no not at all," complained Ram shaking his index finger to make the point, "But what can I do for you."

    "Nothing, I don't need anything; I just came to say good bye before I leave for England soon"

Ram and the place seemed strange; Eesa felt out of place; the bonds of youth that had brought Eesa to see him felt no more.

    "You know I was thinking the RSS fanatics could only kill Mahatma's body.  The corrupt Congressmen are killing his spirit and by the way all those people outside in the yard, are they clients?"

    "No, many are supplicants."

    "I thought so they were!"

    "And you know the problem? The likes of you think stomachs can survive on ideals alone."

    "Oh how could money and power supplant the country as the Gods to worship?" said Eesa getting up.

From Ram's home Eesa walked to the mansion to bid farewell to Sujata and Teg, the latter if here were there.  He was tired and he kept touching and feeling his days' old stubble and moustache searching for answers to the question he had asked Ram about money and power, Ram's Gods?

He asked Sujata sharbat for he needed it to calm his nerves unsettled by the visit o Ram's.  She told him Sameer was in town and wanted to see him, he promised to wait for Sameer at home the next day and returned to his small home that he had built with his savings and the proceeds of their Chajjuwara home.  Fatigued, he slipped into the chair on which he had sat thousands of hours reading and preparing notes for lectures and fell asleep.

Late the same evening Sameer arrived at the mansion.  Next morning Sameer and Teg sat in the yard near Penis' resting place sipping the last bits of tea in their cups when Sameer looked at Moustachioed's watch he was wearing and said, "Time to go Eesa Chacha." Just then he saw Jaggi walk through the gate.

    "Brother Jaggi weren't you supposed to be at college?"

    "Yeah, I'll tell you later, first get me a glass of water."

Teg got him a glass of water and he gulped it down before the three of them began a walk to Eesa's home which took them though the crowded streets, roads and byways of Zillapur, often by the open naalian filled with raw sewage, sleeping cows and their fresh dung, stray dogs, rickshaws and their bells, buses, trucks and cars belching smoke, their incessant horns; and in the midst of it all pedestrians rushing forth, on guard for their lives.

Finally Eesa's weather warped door greeted them.

Sameer knocked several times eventually pushing the door open. In his white dhoti and shirt Eesa sat face down, legs under him and arms extended forward, forehead touching the cement resting on the floor as if to kiss the soil for one last time before flying away.  Teg noticed a black lump on the back of hi skull and turned the body face up, revealing a dark blood soiled spot on the floor where his forehead had rested; the forehead too, had a small laceration and a large, dark contusion on it.

    "He's been killed," said Teg as Sameer and Jaggi looked around but they saw nothing taken or disturbed.  In the neighbourhood none seemed aware of anything unusual as Teg asked around and went to the neighbour who had the keys to Eesa's home to inform him of the death. The neighbour who had the keys to Eesa's home to inform him of the death.  The neighbour handed him the spare keys while they found Eesa's set hanging in the lock on the inside of the door.

Eesa was fond of saying an untimely death was a blessing for those torn about difficult issues as he had been about England; for the deceased the death ends all questions, he used to say.  The boys lifted him on to a bed, locked up and hurried to the mansion. The hostel students were at school and Sujata was taking a little breather from the daily grind, sitting in the Sun facing the gate.

    "You're back so quickly, weren't you suppose to see Eesa off in the afternoon?"

    "Ma, we found Eesa taya dead on the floor; we asked the neighbors; you know he never locked the door when he was home and nobody seemed to have noticed anything suspicious."

With the passing of Uttam, the Naths, Preeti, Sham and now Eesa, Sujata had become somewhat used to death and sprang into action dispatching Teg and Sameer to run out and make phone calls to Teg;s school in Amritsar and Jagat at the college.  She took Jaggi with her to the cremation grounds where the bearded Jalan, his name "burning" apt for a cremator, recognised Sujata as one of the two women dressed in gorgeous saris at Aarti's cremation.

    "The body could come here by 6 pm.  Would it work?"

    "Yes Bibi ji," said Jalan.

    "I hope it doesn't rain," said Jaggi before noticing the metal canopy over the cremation platform.

Giving Jalan part payment and promising to pay the rest at the funeral they walked away.  At the gate of the grounds they bumped into Penis' assistant Manoj there to pay for his master's wife's funeral.

    "Sorry to hear about her passing.  Did you ever find anything about him?" asked Sujata.

    "No Bibi ji, evaporated into thin air, ether-like."

Sujata swiftly walked away as if lingering around Manoj might reveal her the murderess of Penis while jaggi's mind was meditating on cremation and he wondered aloud about cremating the Christian Eesa.

Pages 374, 375 & 376

against the wall seemed to strike to discordant note.  Ratno saw and felt him in distress and brought lassi for him, he heard the footsteps but didn't look.  He was not just a bastard, he was beyond bastard, more than a mere hramdaa he was born of unwed man and woman, yes, but also of different castes and on top of that from the same village; he was an absolute pariah.  Ratno placed the lassi on the table and stood gazing into his eyes and face; his eyes saw but the heart refused to acknowledge her.  An eruption is preferable to a freeze--a soul erupting is a soul alive, she thought and rubbing her temples, she walked away.

Upon the bungalow the rupture of the mother son bond loomed like death death of truth that she had told him that had been the glue of their bond and she was in danger of losing him, her life's work.

She walked back.

    "I'm sorry Jaggi.  I wasn't a Principal then, just a smitten teenaged from Qaadian.  I wasn't an actuary and mine wasn't a cold cost benefit analysis.  I was the initiator.  He allowed himself to be loved.  You are nobody's fault but the result of my love for him which refuses to dim.  He loves you.  You are his son.  I hadn't told him of my pregnancy or you.  He found out about us from Ajit the rickshawala.  Please, try to understand."

    "Leave the hramdaa alone mom! That's what I am, a hramdaa," he gnashed his teeth.

Jagat felt a charlatan, a near murderer of his rapist Jewna and now a proven betrayer of Qaadian's rule against Qaadian's born and bred sleeping with each other.  Had the country known of his sin against Qaadian it would've laughed him out of the independence movement.

Hours later Jaggi was still in the yard meditating on the freshly blossomed roses, pondering the distance between them and his turmoil within when his eyes chanced upon a withered rose, shrunken and dried, atop the tallest branch filled with red roses, it earlier having escaped his eyes just as it had survived Jagat' deadheading shear.  It encapsulated the moment for him: He wasn't a rose in bloom in Jagat's garden and if so at all, he was shriveled one his father had forgotten to tend.

    Ratno made another round of shuckered tea.  She gave Jagat his cup.

    "I needed this, thanks," he said getting up from his bed.

    "Talk to your son because he wants to be alone which is dangerous; he needs you.  I've tried," said Ratno as she walked to the yard to give Jaggi second cup of tea.

    "Puttar take this tea while I make your favourite pranthas," she said.

He looked at her and she glanced at his and saw a fury.  She left walking past Jagat, as with tea in hand, he advanced toward Jaggi.  He placed his cup next to Jaggi's.

    "What were you thinking papa? Didn't you know a hramdaa would be born?"

    "First of all no child is hramdaa; a child is born when a man and a woman sleep with each other, whether married or not and you're born the same way as are all human beings; so you aren't a bastard, a hramdaa.  Thinking? No we weren't, we're young and she'd decided to have her way.  I liked her too but being of Qaadian I couldn't confess to loving her.  I would've married her and gone far away from Qaadian but by the time I returned to tell her so, she'd disappeared."

    "But you don't understand, I'm hramdaa, unable to proclaim my father because truth doesn't always set you free."

    "You may proclaim me dead because I did die long ago, perhaps even more than once.  If and when you feel up to claiming me I'm ready."

    "It is not as if after declaring the truth we are all going into to the solitude of the Gujranwala jail cells, immune to Qaadian's venom.  I better get out of your lives."

Jaggi was now calmer; in the evening the lights in the bungalow burnt long enough to cook and eat the evening meal.  In the morning Jagat woke up to Ratno sitting at the kitchen table holding a piece of paper she had picked up off Jaggi's bed.  Extending it toward him she said,

    "When I woke he was already gone."