Three Bargains: A Novel (23 page)

She smiled, and pulled him to her by the collar of his shirt, returning his kisses with a long one of her own.

“I’d better go back,” she said. “They’ll begin to wonder.”

“One more minute,” he whispered.

“Madan?” Jaggu’s voice rang out from behind the trees and they barely managed to jump apart as he turned the corner and stood before them.

They all stared at each other for a moment. In a flash Neha ran past Jaggu, but he hardly noticed. He was staring at Madan like a truck full of logs had rolled down on him.

“What?”

“Jaggu—”

“You’re going to get us all killed!” Jaggu didn’t blink. He stared at Madan, frozen in place.

“No, Jaggu, listen—”

But Jaggu held up his hand, halting Madan’s move toward him. Jaggu leaned against the wall, struggling for air.

“Are you crazy? What’s going on? You’ve gone crazy,” he said, his arms flailing like he was the one going mad.

“Calm down, Jaggu, listen to me.”

“Listen to you? He’s going to kill us . . . we’re fucking gone . . . we’re gone . . . they won’t even find a fingernail.”

“No one is going to kill you or . . . anyone,” Madan said, fear briefly igniting in his gut. “How did you know I was here?”

“One of the caterers. He said he saw you go back here with a girl. I thought he was joking. I was tempted to put my fist to his ear.” Jaggu shook his head, giving a small laugh that sounded more like the cry of someone choking on his own blood.

After a while he wrestled himself under control. He straightened up. “What are you thinking? Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Listen, Jaggu, you don’t have to get involved. Go back and forget about all of this. For me,” Madan sighed, “it’s too late.”

Jaggu snorted disbelievingly, and turned like he was going to leave. He kicked the ground, shaking his head. Madan watched as he muttered to himself.

After a few moments, he turned to Madan. “I can’t believe . . . I just . . . how can you?” His voice cracked and he fell silent.

Jaggu took a deep breath. “You’ll need one sensible person in all this madness,” he said. “I’ve come this far. What would I do without you now? Where’s the fun in that?”

Relief coursed through Madan and he hugged Jaggu.

“I need a drink,” said Jaggu, still trembling.

“What about Pandit Bansi Lal?”

“Oh, one of the guests was going back in that direction and said they would take him. Avtaar Singh said he would see us later, in the factory.”

They headed to the servants’ compound, filling a couple of plates with food. Madan’s grandfather was napping and they went inside the room, where it was cooler. Jaggu retrieved a bottle of homemade rum from his bag.

They ate and drank, the story coming out between mouthfuls until it was time to go to the factory. “Why can’t anything be easy with you?” marveled Jaggu as they cleaned up.

Outside, Madan’s grandfather awoke, mumbling to himself in his tangled sheets. “What’s all the excitement?”

Madan helped him sit up and left the remainder of the rum bottle with his grandfather. It would keep him occupied while Swati and Ma were busy up front, and the old man would enjoy the treat.

“Off again?” his grandfather muttered, more to the speckled pigeons perched regally on the outer wall than to Jaggu and Madan exiting the compound gate. “Who’ll be with me, ha? Who’ll be with me when Shiva does his tandava and the world splits in half? Fuckers.”

The heat of summer finally scaled high enough to peak, and when it broke, the monsoons rolled over Gorapur. Everywhere umbrellas blossomed and then were whipped into the air by petulant winds. Except for the children who splashed in warm puddles, everyone stayed indoors. Drains overflowed and streets flooded, but for Madan the sheets of rain offered a watery shield behind which everything was possible.

Within the first few weeks of college beginning for both of them, Neha called. Madan slipped out, reaching the back gate of her college as she was tugging it open. He had borrowed a motorcycle from Feroze and they drove off, the puddles and misty rain washing away their trails as they headed out to the canal, farther down from where he usually met up with Jaggu, away from the bridges crossing over churning waters and the buffaloes standing unblinking in its muddy streams.

If the rains flooded the banks of the canal they headed to the high-walled back booths of Karim’s Kebab Palace on the west side of town, isolated and smoky and far removed from the rest of the world. And if they could manage a longer time, to a room at the Barking Deer Inn, a rotund complex, some distance from Gorapur on the highway to Sirsa.

The future overshadowed all their conversations. There was hope and excitement when she talked about the places where they would go when they got away. Their lives would spin off into the unknown, but where they ended up would be far better than the provincial alleyways of Gorapur.

She did not know the name of the town she had told him about, and had no luck locating it on any map or book available in Gorapur. But Madan had made some discreet inquiries. There was a place that matched her description. A two-day train journey and four hours on a bus would take them away from these rented rooms and remote hangouts.

“I can teach art there,” Neha said, “or I can take a course. I hear education is free. I’ve always wanted to study philosophy. And I want to learn another language, maybe German or French. What about you?” she asked Madan, the roughened bed sheets of the Barking Deer Inn tangled in their legs. “What will you do?”

To choose of his own will was a luxury he never thought would be his. To her amusement, he could not make up his mind. “I’ll decide when we get there,” he said.

Jaggu covered for him on those days, taking notes in college and good-naturedly complaining that he did not sign up for all this studying. Madan cheered him up with jokes and trips to the cinema hall.

With the change of seasons the rain clouds lightened and the temperatures gradually fell, the colder nights and clear, sparkling days a precursor to the oncoming winter.

“You know what next week is?” Neha asked, tracing the outline of his hand with her fingers. The kitchen doors of Karim’s Kebab Palace swung open and a babble of voices poured out. A server walked by with a tray of paper-thin rumali rotis drooping off its edge. Madan waited till it quieted down again.

“What?”

“Karva Chauth. And I’m going to keep the fast . . . for you. For your long life.”

“For me?” No one ever did anything just for him.

“And the best part is that Rimpy and Dimpy are going to keep the fast as well. It was decided that we’ll come to their house on Karva Chauth evening. Since we can only eat after we see the moon and then the face of the person we’re fasting for, it worked out perfectly for me.”

“They agreed to fasting all day?” He couldn’t imagine the twins not eating for a whole day.

“The real credit goes to Pandit Bansi Lal. He said that even though Karva Chauth was a fast for married women, we girls should fast as well, to pray for good husbands. I said it was a great idea and he persuaded Rimpy and Dimpy. I don’t think they realize how hard it will be.”

He shook his head in amazement. For once Pandit Bansi Lal was of use.

Neha slid out of the booth, kissed him quickly and ran out, pausing at the drooping banyan tree by the road. On a circular cement platform built around the tree’s base was a statue of the goddess Devi Mata on her tiger, her numerous arms swinging in all directions. Smears of vermillion dotted Devi Mata’s forehead like bursts of fireworks, and offerings of coins, food and strings of marigolds lay by her feet. It was just like one of the many temples that sprouted unbidden under the trees around town.

Neha joined her hands and bowed her head at the shrine before hopping onto his motorcycle. She beckoned Madan to her, the copper specks glinting in the afternoon sun.

Where else was there to go? As Avtaar Singh would say when they played teen patti to pass the time: When all the cards have been dealt in your favor, there is no risk and all reward.

“Madan, go look again. It must be out by now.”

For the twins, keeping the fast was indeed much more of a hardship than they had anticipated. The moon, as it usually did on Karva Chauth, was hiding, refusing to show its face this one evening when everyone would worship him instead of the sun.

Madan had already gone out a couple of times to see if the moon was visible from anywhere. “It’ll be out in half an hour. The newspaper said moonrise is eight o’clock,” he said.

“Half an hour more,” Dimpy repeated, moaning and clutching her stomach.

“That stupid Bansi Lal,” said Rimpy, hunger loosening her tongue.

“Shh . . .” said Neha. She was sitting on the steps while the twins fidgeted next to her. “He’s just inside, he might hear you.”

Everyone was inside. Trilok-bhai and Avtaar Singh returned early from work, as their wives would break their fasts after feeding their husbands. Pandit Bansi Lal, who could not pass up the opportunity of ingratiating himself with the two most important families in town, was lolling about on the sofa until called upon to bless everyone. Neha’s brothers had already eaten, refusing to wait for the women to break their fast.

The twins went inside, and Neha stood, dusting her lehenga. All the women were dressed up, their finery akin to that of brides, in lehengas of gold and green, pink and maroon, tinkling bangles on their arms. Madan thought Neha never looked more beautiful.

Half an hour later, as promised, he and Jaggu spotted the moon. The front door swung open and the twins came rushing out.

“You saw it?”

He nodded from the bottom of the steps and they shouted to everyone inside, “Come on! Come on!”

Both families collected at the stop of the steps. “It’s over there,” Madan said to Avtaar Singh. “Behind the trees. If you walk to the end of the driveway you can see it.”

They proceeded onward. As Neha stepped down, she missed a step, stumbling, but Avtaar Singh caught her elbow, breaking her fall.

“Let’s go quickly,” he said. “This girl needs to eat something.”

Neha returned his kind smile. “Just a little light-headed, Uncle,” she said.

“She’s looking so pale,” said Neeta memsaab, coming over to take Neha’s hand. “Not eating anything these days . . .”

Neha kept her head down and walked past Madan. They returned quickly, the prayers rushed, as everyone was hungry. The group repeated their actions in reverse, going back up the steps, chatting. Rohan, Mohan and Sohan complimented Minnu memsaab on all the delicious food they had just enjoyed. Avtaar Singh hung back to tell Madan and Jaggu that they could go home. “I don’t think we need anything else,” he said. Suddenly someone shouted from the top of the steps.

Everyone stopped. Those by the door turned around, and Avtaar Singh, Madan and Jaggu looked up. Neha leaned over the wall of the front veranda, her body heaving and shaking as if racked by spasms. She abruptly straightened, and then crumpled to the floor, while Rimpy looked over her helplessly.

Rohan ran over, gathered Neha in his arms and carried her into the house. Food forgotten, everyone followed behind them. Madan and Jaggu stood in the driveway looking at each other.

Avtaar Singh came out a minute later and threw the car keys at Madan. “Go and get Dr. Kidwai,” he said. Madan and Jaggu raced for the car.

“Don’t worry, just not used to fasting,” Jaggu said. Madan nodded, his mind blank.

When they returned with Dr. Kidwai, Trilok-bhai ushered the doctor to one of the rooms adjoining the drawing room. Neeta memsaab’s voice floated out before the doors shut. People littered the drawing room, every sofa and every chair occupied by someone. Pandit Bansi Lal recited prayers, encouraging Sohan sitting next to him to join in, but Sohan ignored him, keeping his eyes on Trilok-bhai. Madan and Jaggu waited by the open doorway.

The twins were discussing with their mother if Durga could arrange two plates for them when there was a cry from the room. The doors opened and Neeta memsaab came out, Dr. Kidwai behind her.

“What is it?” Trilok-bhai rose, his voice echoing in the room. Everyone’s attention fell on him. “What is it?” he said again to his wife, who hid her face in her dupatta, her shoulders heaving.