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.
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