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.
Chapter 57: On Trial
The Trust pleadings and documents in a discoloured khadi bag over his shoulder, standing at the entrance to High Court at Chandigarh, the city and the courthouse, both, designed by the French architect Le Corbusier in the 1950s, Jagat looked completely out of place. Like the worn out bag on his shoulder, the entrance to the building had frayed under the weight of the teeming supplicants who rarely returned home with justice. He asked one of the scores of lawyers dressed in white tabs and black coats which court room his case might be in. He walked over to the courtroom and found not a vacant seat in the gallery; people stood against the walls, near and in front of the bench. The clerk called the cases and the judges issued oral orders with written reasons to follow in some, adjourning others and often rebuking the lawyers and the unrepresented supplicants. Eventually the crowd thinned and Ram and two others dressed in white tabs and black coats entered. The clerk yelled: "In the matter of the Naths' Trust. The parties, be present."
"Mi Lord. I appear with my two colleagues for the Congress, the plaintiff and the respondent in this appeal," said Ram.
"Who's on the other side?" Judge in the middle, Bharat Khanna, asked.
"Me. My name is Jagat Singh Qaadian," said the man Khanna had noticed standing against the wall all.
"But the pleadings only say Jagat Singh?"
"They don't say everything and often what they say are lies as in this case. For instance the Congress hasn't pled that before it applied to take over he management of the Trust, the mansion was forcibly taken for and ransacked by its goons assisted by the police under Ram's personal supervision. The caretaker Sujata and my son Shiv were injured, the son fatally. The mansion is still in the Congress' illegal control. The Congress' pleadings say none of the inconvenient truths."
"No mi lord, I wasn't there whenever the attack happened if it did," interrupted Ram, a few of his greying hair combed overhead falling to the front covering his left eye.
"If the attack happened as you allege, did you file a case with the police," Judge Khanna asked.
"The attack was assisted by the police, witnessed by the public and covered by the press and yes, Sujata, the caretaker and I filed a written report with the SP in Zilladar and made many requests to the police for investigation. I urge you to order the police to act on our written report, record Sujata's statement, prosecute Ram and the police present and order return of the papers stolen by him from the mansion. I ask and it's only fair that you postpone the final decision until that's done," said Jagat.
The Congress offered no oral submissions or rebuttal. Promising to return in half hour judges retired to their chamber. Gandhi hung in portrait on the wall near the national emblem of India, the three lions, the fourth presumed hiding behind them. He who for many years
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