The Onus of Ancestry (13 page)

“I have no choice, Nishith – you have left me none. It seems we are in it together in our fight for your sanity, and perhaps for my survival.”

“Is that a promise?”

“I make no promises – but I stand by my vows.”

“That will do for me now, the rest I will leave for later. Come back to me Dwita, come closer. I do not know why I feel so safe when I am inside you. Your strength seems to seep into me and I feel stronger. I love you – I have always loved you ever since I first set eyes on you. I am a man possessed. I will never let you go – never try to leave me – I warn you–”

“Nishith, ssh, quiet, try and sleep.”

“Yes, I will, hold me tight. I need you, please help me get well, help me survive.”

“Sleep, Nishith, just try and sleep a little.”

All her anger and resistance had receded in the face of his helpless, hopeless desire for sanity and survival – survival at whatever cost to them both.

*

“Dwita! Get up, quick, it is getting late.” Nishith was shaking her out of a dream, an early morning dream in which she kept opening doors, vast wide doors, but they kept closing on her.

“Why so early? It is not even light yet. Oh, I am so sleepy, Nishith. Please let me be just a little longer.”

“Come on, girl – you must come riding with me.”

“I have nothing suitable to wear–”

“Wear a
salwar kameez
– but it must be white – you know club rules.”

“Nishith, I have been here only three days. All my clothes are still at home.”

“What home? This is your home – all right? You must then come and watch me ride.”

Dwita knew it was hopeless arguing with Nishith – what he wished had to be done. She got up, changed, followed him like a sleepwalker to the car, where the engine was already revving impatiently. She missed her cup of tea, which Mahama always brought to her in bed to let her wake up properly. No one had ever shaken her out of sleep, it was always a process of gently emerging from a deep ocean of slumber, with Mahama's coaxing voice in the background. Everything was going to be different from now on, everything.

“We are late by ten whole minutes,” Nishith complained.

“I am sorry.”

Nishith drove fast through the open roads of Calcutta, at this hour free from people and traffic. Even the policemen were not on active duty yet, some were nodding in shop shelters, some were sitting by the roadside with the ‘
chai walla
' hoping his kettle would boil soon for their first cup of tea of the day, now sorely needed by Dwita as well.

Nishith lectured her on the evils of a sedentary existence, the need for physical exercise and the way Dwita should reorganise her schedule to include every conceivable activity for a healthy way of life. He sounded like a physical instructor speaking to a delinquent schoolgirl who had missed her tennis lesson. She now saw in him a man full of disturbing inconsistencies – vain conceits and careless arrogance mixed with the loneliness and turmoil in his heart. Dwita felt helpless – how could she keep up with a man like Nishith, twice her age, eccentric, mentally unstable, driven by blinding egoism and obsessed by his need of her constant presence.

He had pulled up in front of the Riding Club, jumped out of the car, snatched her out of her seat and ran with her towards the fence where the instructor, Ahmad, stood laughing. “This is my wife, Ahmad, please show her round – I am off now. Where is Bright Light?”

“Do not rush, Mr Dutta, take it easy. Bright Light is not on form today – take Trade Wind from stall four.” Nishith had disappeared into the stables before Ahmad had even finished his sentence.

“Your husband is always rushing, rushing, madam. He also rides very hard, bad for my horses. You have never come before.”

“No, we were married just a few days ago.”

“Good – maybe you can now teach him to be gentle. You can also join us for lessons. I will teach you how to ride.”

“Thank you, Ahmad.”

He had shown her round the stables, the well maintained green paddocks stretched right across the length and breadth of the Club grounds. Ahmad was proud of his charges and they all looked well-tended and in prime condition. She had also met Bright Light, who seemed a little morose and listless. Dwita had then walked around by herself, whilst Ahmad had disappeared to resume his instructor's role.

Nishith had ridden for nearly an hour. He rode well, but with an uncontrolled zeal as though he needed to prove something to the horse and to himself. He dismounted from Trade Wind, who to Dwita's eye looked almost relieved, and called, “See you tomorrow, Ahmad.”

“That was quite exhilarating – it is so good to be up there and in control. Now to the Sailing Club.” Nishith strode out, leaving Dwita to follow him.

“Will you be sailing right away? Should you not rest a while after a spell of vigorous riding?” Dwita ventured feebly.

“Rest? For God's sake, why? I am all right. I must work away at my circulation – the medicine seems to make it sluggish.”

They had arrived at the Club, by the Calcutta Lakes. The boats were tied in a row of blue and white, waiting to be taken on to the water. There were one or two people out already, rowing their sloth away. She sat down by the bank on a lounger. She loved water, and wished she could swim. Nishith now emerged from the changing room in white shorts and club sports shirt. His jodhpurs had been put away. He looked trim and fit, the muscles of his legs and arms were firm. He adopted a carefree and daredevil air – only his eyes betrayed him. They were restive and wandering, a little bloodshot behind a pair of tinted glasses.

“What are you staring at? Get up, come sailing with me.”

“You know I cannot swim, and I am also not dressed properly, as you can see.”

“I know all that – but you are coming just the same–” He was dragging her to the jetty.

“Saab, Saab, madam cannot go like that!” the caretaker pleaded.

“Yes, she can – I will speak to the manager myself.”

The man flung his arms in the air helplessly – breaking club rules was a serious matter.

“Let us leave it for today, Nishith?”

“I am a member of the Board, I make my own rules.”

“How absurd, you cannot do that.”

“Do not argue, Dwita, it only wastes our time. Come along – quick.”

He had taken her in the boat and rowed around the lakes, proving himself a skilful oarsman. She could not help enjoying the sensation, but had still felt uneasy about breaking the club rules.

“Welcome back Mr Dutta,” the manager, Mr Mukherjee, had greeted them on arrival at the shore. “Ah, it is Mrs Dutta, I see – well, newly weds are allowed a little leeway – ha, ha, ha – no doubt you will encourage your wife to be assistant oarswoman in time, won't you?” This was a mild rebuke compared to what Dwita expected and she was greatly relieved. They breakfasted at the Club, and Nishith ate scrambled eggs on toast, sausage and tomatoes hungrily, washing them down with orange juice and coffee. She was at last able to have her cup of tea and a piece of toast.

“Exercise will improve your appetite as well – you eat like a bird. By the way, from tomorrow can you please see that I get a glass of orange juice in the morning? Now that you are there, I can expect it regularly. My mother's staff never seem to manage anything on time, or for that matter every day. I shall now drop you off, change and put my head into the office – I'd better see what is happening there.”

“My mother rang – she wants us to spend two days with her. I believe there is a custom of a return visit, something called ‘
dwiragaman
'?”

“Ah, that is a bit of a nuisance. I was hoping to go away with you for a few days. We must have our honeymoon, you know, that is also a custom, I believe.”

“I have been postponing it, knowing you – you have not been well. Perhaps–”

“I am perfectly well,” he said emphatically. “Why should I not be? That was only temporary. No, let us get over this customary visit to your mother, then we can go away by ourselves a bit later. Let us fix it for tomorrow with her. I shall tell my mother to make the necessary arrangements.”

When Nishith had left for work Dwita had phoned Parna, and Protima also spoke to her. The two mothers fixed the visit – the
panjika
had been consulted for the auspicious time of departure the next day and then the return two days later. When all was arranged Protima came up to her daughter-in-law: “Thank you, my child, thank you for accepting everything and saving the face of the Duttas. Our honour is now in your hands.”

“Do not worry, Ma, nor thank me. My mother will never find out if it is left to me.”

“I think Nishith will behave if he has his medicine and you are by his side.”

“Does he go for regular medicals?”

“Yes, he does, though he hates them. He tries to avoid going, but in the end he gives in – he has to. His psychiatrist would be annoyed if he did not go regularly. Dr Bijit Mitra is his psychiatrist, have you heard of him?”

“Yes, he is very well known. Maybe we could go and see him together?”

“He went overseas some time ago on a lecture tour, but he should be back soon. Yes, you must then take Nishith to him.”

“Ma, what about Ashish? Where is he now? Is he under Dr Mitra as well?”

“Oh yes, he is under Dr Mitra's treatment, but his case is different – hopeless and incurable – very complex too. He came for your wedding, but we had to send him away again. He lives in a small cottage on our estate, locked away like his ancestors, under the care of two male psychiatric nurses. He can be very violent. When he gets worse we transfer him to the Mental Hospital near Benebagan. He is abnormal in every way, Dwita, he is a freak, a sort of retarded freak–” She burst into tears. “I am paying for my sins, my child, sins committed in my previous births.”

“Don't Ma, don't – you are not to blame.”

“It is true, Dwita. You have heard about us from Prithwish. All my sons have their crosses to bear. But why have we brought you into all this – so young and beautiful, innocent and untouched. Believe me, though I was delighted at the prospect of a daughter-in-law, I soon realised it would be wrong to get you or anyone involved like this. Prithwish and I tried to discourage Nishith, but we were powerless against his stubborn will, his determination to achieve his every wish or whim. He threatened to shoot himself if we moved or interfered. Now you know–”

Thus the pattern of her destiny was gradually being revealed – but what difference would it make? She thought of Parna – how would she feel if she found out? She remembered Barun. How was he these days? She had stopped replying to his letters. He had sent her a cable congratulating her and wishing her well – he had heard from someone, perhaps Chandni, about her wedding. What would he say if he found out about the floundering fortunes of Dwita Roy Chowdhury? Would he laugh and say outright that she deserved it? What would Mahama say? Though dead, had Dima known in advance like all spirits did, having foreknowledge of future events? Who knew?

*

Nishith had not come home all day – no one seemed to think twice about it, except Dwita who felt the need for information. Finally he had rung from the Club. He was having a game of tennis – would she like to join him? Prithwish or the driver could bring her. Both were unavailable, so the question was soon answered. He had returned late, showered and got involved in discussions with Prithwish behind closed doors. After dinner, he had merely said, “I had to take up some important matters on Dutta Enterprises – serious investment problems. Did you have a nice day?” He did not expect an answer.

The next day had been busy – all his sport activities had to be fitted in despite various departure formalities of
dwiragaman
. They had finally got over to Parna's, where the day was taken up with the usual entertainment of friends, neighbours and relatives. Nishith did not leave her side, he followed her everywhere as though he was afraid she would disappear. He was quiet, spoke only when spoken to, appeared remote and thoughtful. “You have a very serious husband there, he hardly smiles. Perhaps it is good to be dignified, quite unlike my Sunil who never stops talking or laughing.” That was one of Parna's cousins describing the merits or not of her own son-in-law.

Mahama was the only one who fluttered around in a disquieting fashion, looking intently and suspiciously at Nishith, as though she distrusted his calm manner and his vigilant devotion to Dwita, who looked pale and tired. She was composed as usual – but was she happy? Mahama felt Dwita was avoiding her eyes.

At night, Nishith approached her desperately. “Do we have to spend another night here? What happens if we leave tomorrow?”

“I do not think we can leave a day early.”

“I cannot keep up this act for long, I am afraid. My head has begun to feel strange again – suppose they find out?”

“They won't, if you can keep it up for another day.”

“I think Maheshwari suspects. Have you told her anything?”

“No, I have said nothing. If I had you would have known, Nishith – after all, you have not left my side all day.” She sounded a little impatient.

“I am not accusing you, Dwita. I won't blame you if you do, but it won't help either of us.”

“Do I not know that? I am not a fool. Though you are much older than I am, I feel twice as old after the past week. I understand my role and your predicament – I am the keeper–”

“Of my secret soul – how does that sound? Romantic?”

“I have my own pride too – please do not undermine it.”

“No, no – can you not see I am afraid, mortally afraid of the mask slipping, leaving me naked and exposed? So I hide behind your armour of poise, my weakness concealed in your strength. I think you have plenty of it, certainly for me, perhaps even enough to absorb the other Duttas' sins.”