5. The Days That Followed
Those were the days of emotional luxury. The season was getting warmer by
the day. Those days, electricity was not there at t either of the place and so
there was no electric fan in those times. May be he had one in his hostel. One
morning while he was going to Bankipore to get some papers he informed me
he might go to Phuphi Amman (my Amman) and asked if I had any message for her.
Tongue in cheek I retorted “ tell Amman that her daughter is very happy here.”
He left with a smile. On his return in the evening, he brought for me a sky
blue writing pad, envelops and a matching ladies parker pen set. He was leaving
for Ranchi the day after. All these stationery was meant for my writing letter
to him on a daily basis. He insisted I must write the address on the envelop
myself. He took a promise from me .
As the three sisters were more or less of the same age as
mine, we all used to gossip a lot and it was good fun. With the
passage of time, Asim too had become quite friendly with me.
“I don’t have a younger brother”. I told him one day and asked. “would you
like to be my younger brother?”
“that’s what I am!”. He replied
We shook hands and became friends. He was the youngest in the family and
was born after a brother had died in infancy. He was therefore the darling of
the entire family. He name Asim was short and sweet but don’t know why everyone
used to call him by his pet name Kallan. I didn’t like this practice
as the boy was having a fair complexion. So I started calling him Asim and
asked everyone to do the same and the maids were then strictly forbidden
from calling him Kallan.
After a few days of departure of Doctor Saheb to Ranchi, Amman
sent a message calling me back to Bankipore for a few days. By this time I was
feeling quite at home in my sasural with lots of people to talk to and didn’t
feel like going back so soon. At the time of departure, Mamoon Abba (my FIL)
gave me four shirt pieces and a sample shirt of Asim for stitching. He was
extremely fond of me and the warmth and affection was reflected in his every
deed. He still would sometimes show me the sweet candies he once used to get
for me and jokingly said “ come on! Get it”. Would laugh at his own joke. Those
were the people and those were the days!. All this has become like a fiction
now.
Turn by turn I paid my rukhsati salam to MIL, then Naani Amman, Khala
Amman and rest of the elders. Asim came up to the car to see me off. Till this
time Nazim had still not opened up with me. He was age-wise elder to me and
called me Bhabhi. Asim promised to come and meet me.
The next day at Amman’s place I saw Mamoon Abba coming holding the hand of
little Asim. He was wearing a sherwani fit to his small size and a black velvet
cap. Gazelle eyed full of intelligence. Even now the entire scene flashes
before my eyes. While Mamoon Abba sat with Bhaiya, the younger one was sent
inside. He himself started saying that after I left, he was feeling very
dejected and lonely. On top of it, the sisters started teasing him that Bhabhi
has left him and run away.
“So I started crying”. He admitted before me innocently.
The resulting bonus was that his Abba promised to take him to Bankipore,
the next day. I was overwhelmed and hugged his face with my hands. I was also
not so matured and I also wept with emotions. Then I consoled him that when his
Bhaiya comes back I will also return. Till such time he should keep visiting
me.
I started feeling the solitude now. At my home it was the same room and
the same bed I was so much used to, but sleep evaded me as I went into the
world of fancy. I was thinking how impressive was his personality that had an
overwhelming impact on my mind heart and soul. I never could have imagined that
one man could possess such multifarious positive attributes. Besides being a
doctor and a poet, he could sing well too and used to play flute. Above
everything else, , he was a magnificent human being. It is difficult
to describe his good qualities in words. A girl like me could not have asked
for anything better.
On the third day of my arrival, the familiar blue envelop arrived
addressed to Amman. It also contained a simple small two line letter for me
asking for my welfare and asking me for a prompt reply. The next day another
letter came in my name. That was a lengthy one. Full of feelings. With
instructions for me to write and to post a letter a day. It was testing time
for me as my turn came. I was not too familiar with the art of letter writing.
I was no match to his literary talents. In fact I didn’t know what to write on
such occasion. I wasn’t sure how to address him in the letter, in the
first place. Long time backed I had peeked into a teacher’s letter which she
was writing to her husband and it started with “Mere Sartaj; aap salaamat
rahen”. That helped me. I closed the door and started writing with shivering
hands. Wrote about whatever came to my mind and also about Asim and the days
that felt lonely here. When the writing was over and I re-read the whole thing,
I found it to be awful and embarrassing. The contents were so disjointed and
incoherent. So I added at the end of my letter to be forgiven as my
handwriting and content was both horrible so I cannot repeat it everyday. Still
as directed, I wrote the address in English myself and gave it to a boy to get
it posted. He pointed out that it required postage stamp to reach the destination.
My worry was that the envelop that he had handed over to me was so
very sophisticated and the contents inside so uncouth. Nevertheless,
one step was over. The reply came soon.
“Why should you be concerned about the handwriting? “ My eyes
don’t se the script; I see the person who has written it”.
And there was a warning at the end of his letter that if I don’t reply
promptly, I will be punished. I somehow responded and wrote back:
“you have been sent there for studies and training, instead you are
becoming a Romeo – might as well pay more attention to your studies”.
During the three weeks he was in Ranchi, not a single day passed when
the blue envelop from his side did not arrive.. He had an excellent
flare for writing and the words were like gems. All the letters are still with
me as a mark of memory of those days and whenever I feel depressed out of his
separation, I go through them even now. What he wrote It seemed as if he was
talking to me. Incidentally he too had preserved my letters to him but when he
came back from Ranchi, I surreptitiously stole them and destroyed them out of
apprehension that he might pull my leg for whatever I had written there. He was
very annoyed when he came to know of it but then there was nothing much that
could be done about it.
The fateful day of his return eventually arrived. He told me that his
other college mates knew about the sky blue envelop and while he was attending
the class it was hidden somewhere. After enjoying the restlessness for a while
the letter was exchanged for a bargain to a treat from him. The car was sent to
the station to receive him. On his arrival home, he sat with Bhaiya and had
breakfast. Then came to Amman and sat there. That was the tradition. It was my
turn finally for which I was desperately waiting. After spending some time with
me he left for Patna City as he had also informed them of his return and they
must be waiting for him. After meeting them he returned at night.
His classes had commenced and he now started going to the medical college
from Bihari Lane rather than his hostel. In the latter fortnight of Ramzaan,
call came from my in-laws that the first Eid was to be celebrated in sasural.
The days of Ramzaan in Dhawalpura were quite exciting and it used to
be a grand affair. By afternoon Mamoon Abba himself along with the
sons will peel and slice the fruits and did other arrangements. The females too
were busy in preparing aftari and sehri items. Those were the days of Mamoon
Abba. For the Eid, my mother in law must have given him money and he
got a delicate embroidered Sari, and a fur-collar coat for me. In those days,
gentlemen never used to go to the shops. Moreover, purchasing sari was
unthinkable. But he did it for me. Eid as the name suggests was sheer joy and
happiness for me.
As the time passed, my respect for him kept growing. Few adjustments had
to be made. We had a couple of pacts between us and one of them was that when
ever either of us would get angry, the other one would adopt silence. This way
the anger fizzles out. The irony of this pact is that the occasion never came
when he was on the angry side. Leave aside the wife or children, he never even
got angry over any of the servants or office messengers. He was just too gentle
and kind hearted human being. A person whose positive attributes are difficult
to be described in words.
Dhawalpura was full and crowded on the day of the Eid. It was a happy
occasion for the entire family. The elders gave me Parbi and likewise I gave it
to those younger than me. As he had to attend the classes in Bankipore, we had
to come back. I was reluctant to come back as I was just too fond of that place
where there were so many people to mix around, and the place used to be humming
with activities all through.
I was on the family way now and it was the beginning of the seventh month.
One night I got unwell. The blood pressure went quite high. Earlier we were
taken to Tripolia hospital at the slightest pretext. Now that he was close to
becoming a doctor himself, they felt no need to call a doctor from outside.
Later when Dr. Sarkar was consulted, as the condition did not
improve, he advised me bed rest. In the name of food, only fruits
and cream-cracker biscuit was given to me. In the eighth month, I was unwell
again one night. He was in the hostel then. A servant was sent to get him. He
came and said I needed some specialist’s advice. In the morning, Miss John, who
was famous for her attitude and short temper, came over and advised that though
it is only 8 months, it was the labor. She got some necessary articles from the
market and within an hour the sound of an infant cry was heard.
Greetings were exchanged and after the bath the baby boy was brought to me. The
new born was a miniature copy of his father. Same nose and same forehead. The resemblance
was astonishing. As the saying goes, whatever you imagine about in those
months, gets reflected in the appearance of the baby.
The news reached Patna City and Mamoon Abba arrived full of joy. Amman
showed him the baby in another room. Suddenly the baby started to collapse. Dr.
Sarkar, the pediatrician was immediately called. Every effort was made but all
went in vain. Allah had his own will. The boy could not survive. Amman tried to
console me. Bhaiya was the worst affected. May be he was even contemplating to
adopt the first child. Then I became unwell. My condition suddenly deteriorated
to the extent that it diverted everyone’s attention towards me, away from the
tragedy that had happened. It took almost a month for me to recover completely.
He appeared for the fourth year exams and eventually cleared it with decent
marks. I was apprehensive he might flunk as all the time his mind used to be
engaged in the family affairs. Now that he had entered the final year, he now
started staying in the hostel. Off and on, used to come here to meet
even though the hostel was within walking distance.
One day he sent a message that he will have dinner with us. But he didn’t
turn up. All sorts of inauspicious thought were coming to my mind. Next day at
noon Badlu Mian came with a message. It read “You all must have waited, but
Abba’s condition was unwell so I could not send Badloo Mian”. Last evening his
Abba had a paralysis stroke and was in a state of coma. Doctors were being
consulted but he was still not out of danger. I told Amman that we should rush
to Patna city. With a few clothes, I reached there the next day. When I saw him
he was still comatose. A number of doctors and hakims were coming turn by turn.
His mother was then alive and his widowed sister Shamsa Khala Amman used to
stay in the same house. My Mumani Amman (MIL)herself was a religious, saintly
and patient woman. The prayers were rewarded and the treatment worked
eventually and he regained consciousness after eight days. But paralysis had
taken its toll and he was then unable to speak.
After few more days, he sent us back to Bankipore and later joined us as
the final year exams were approaching. Gradually, Mamoo Abba’s condition
improved. One day he came and informed me that he had to submit the tuition and
exam fee and Amman has no money left as every penny of liquid cash had been
spent in Abba’s treatment. The money which was given to me in salaami was all
intact there except for a few rupees which were spent on his cigarette. I
didn’t give it a second thought. Gave it all to him. In place of money, had he
asked even for my life, I would have given it with the same willingness. He got
engaged in his studies again. Occasionally when Bhaiya saw him home in the
evenings he jokingly “ I will tell the professor you are absconding from the
hostel”. He just smiled at it.
Another untoward incident occurred – A guy came running from Ramna Bagh
where Bhabhi’s maternal house was, and nervously informed
that Bhabhi had fallen from the first floor. Doctor Saheb was called
for. Later it was revealed that she had developed this hypochondria of
inflicted with leprosy. The doctors had ruled it out but somehow it got deeply
imbedded in her mind. Her father would take her fingers inside his mouth to
convince her that her phobia was baseless but nothing could convince the poor
girl. Eventually she got hysterical out of desperation and jumped over to end
her life. She was shifted in an ambulance to the emergency ward. Luckily he was
in charge there else it could have been a police case. She remained in the
cabin for three months before recovering. Amman along with me often used to go
to see her. He showed me his hostel from outside. Sometimes we would
sit by the bank of the Ganges and then come home.
Final exams were over only the viva remained. I received a slip from him
one day that next to the cabin, where Bhabhi was admitted, his viva
was to be conducted and I could see it all from a safe distance. Three wheeled
rickshaw had come to Patna by now. I went to the hospital with a boy servant we
had. The specified room was clearly visible from there. At around 9, the final
year students started pouring in. All in white apron and stetho around the
neck. I couldn’t see for whom I was waiting for. Suddenly I heard loud laughter
behind me. I was caught by his friends. They all know what was hatching from
Bhabhi’s cabin. One of them was Younus who later practiced in Bhagalpur and
another was Dr. Shafique. At the moment when I was caught by them I had no
place to escape and was trapped. They told Bhabhi that all of us are bound to
fail as how could they remain in senses after knowing that they were being
watched by me. That was the first time I met some of his friends.
After a prolonged wait the exams were finally over. The results came out
and he got through too. We shifted back to Patna city. Those were the days of
enjoyment. And then there was Holi. Shafique Bhai, Jhabboo Bhai, Majjoo Bhai,
and Nazim – they all put colors on me and Holi was played with full fervor.
Milaad was held at the behest of Mumani Amman as thanks giving for his
clearing the final MBBS exam. Maulana Sabih-ul- haque of Mangal Talab conducted
it. Mamoon Abba was unable to walk but he sat there. His hand and feet of the
right side was till weak. That day I saw the china cutlery of Dhawalpura. It
consisted of large basket loads of cups and plates. The snacks were arranged
from the market but Sheer-Chai was prepared at home. Imriti was distributed in
envelops. Amman and Bhabhi had come from Bankipore.
We had to again shift back to Bankipore as house-job duty started.
Experience of each and every discipline of medicine counted. When it was the
turn of female ward, he concocted a story that a very pretty girl was coming to
him in consultation for her mother. She is a delicate beauty and also sings
very well. Sometimes she goes with me to the banks of the Ganges and sings for
me there. When I asked for the name, I was told Gulathi. I got
flared up out of jealousy. I remained restless for some time. Before it was too
late, one day he offered me to come along to meet Gulathi.
“How could she know me?” I got even more furious
After the initial refusal, I eventually decided to face it head
on. So I tagged along to meet her. In the General Ward, there was an
octogenarian lady patient lying in the bed. Her daughter was over 50 and her
name, in reality was Gulathi. The mother and daughter thanked me for coming and
they were grateful to doctor Saheb for his treatment. When we were returning
from there, he told me “it was just a test for your affection towards me”.
During house-job days the stipend was Rs.50 a month. He will give exact
half of it to his Abba and the remaining half to me. On some pretext or the
other from my portion of the money he will always take away a large chunk. In
addition, cost of cigarettes was on my account. Still it was all fairly
manageable.
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Chapter
INDEX.