The Onus of Ancestry (15 page)

“Ashish, come here – leave her! Ashish come to me.” She spoke with authority and he stopped suddenly, and let Shaila go. “Come and sit here,” she said, in a firm toneless voice.

“Why?”

“Come, come Ashish.” She was buying time hoping that Shaila would be able to fetch help quickly.

“No – what do you want?”

“Talk to me – I have not had the chance to meet you.”

“Your husband, that bastard Nishith, he locks me up here – I shall get him one of these days. I will – first you and then he–”

A car had arrived, screeching to a halt in front of the house. Ashish had not heard it, oblivious to everything except his blinding hatred of Nishith. “Don't think you can talk me out of it.” He took her hand, caressing it gently. “A beautiful hand – long lovely fingers, painted nails… I could break those fingers slowly, one at a time.” She shuddered. Next, his hands reached her throat. “A long white neck, like a swan's,” he said, running his hand up and down it slowly.

Then there were footsteps rushing up the stairs. It was Nishith, with Naibmashai following close behind him; Shaila was with them still breathless from her ordeal. Ashish pressed his fingers into Dwita's throat and spoke only to Nishith, “If you take one step forward, I shall kill your wife instantly – I shall in any case, but not so quickly if you stay clear.” Dwita felt fear choking her – or was it Ashish's fingers tightening? But the next instant she was free, for Nishith had thrown himself on top of Ashish and forced his brother to the ground. He kept him pressed down, and their two bodies became locked in a deathly embrace. It was frightening to watch – such hatred and violence between brothers. Once Nishith got the better of Ashish he began to beat him mercilessly.

Two other men now arrived on the spot, two more and then two more. It took six of them to part the brothers. Finally Ashish was pulled out of Nishith's death-like grip and taken away in chains by three of the men. The other three supported Nishith, who was now shaking furiously, in the grip of violent spasms. His eyes were red and rolling. Dwita moved towards him, but Naibmashai came between them saying, “Don't, Ma, don't – leave him to us.”

“He is not well – where can we get a doctor?”

“You leave him to us – we know what to do. Shaila, take Ma away. It had to happen – I warned him… ” They took Nishith away down the dark corridors, and Naibmashai went after them shaking his head all the time.

“Come, Boudi, come to your room. Let me get you something to drink.”

“No, Shaila. Please do not go anywhere, stay with me.” Dwita pleaded like a child. She was covered in perspiration, her legs were giving way. She trembled uncontrollably and her teeth were chattering.

“It is all right, I shall stay with you – do not worry, Boudi, it is all over for today. You have nothing more to fear tonight. Is that you Shakhaar Ma?” Shaila called a shadow. “Yes, it is you. Please bring us a pot of tea, bring lots of milk and sugar with it.” She made Dwita sit down and ran a towel over her forehead gently, wiped her face, smoothed her hair, rearranged her saree. “Poor girl, what a destiny.” Shaila seemed to have completely put aside her own ordeal. Dwita was very touched, and tried hard to recover her self control.

Both sat quietly for what seemed hours. “Boudi, they all think I am a widow,” Shaila said in a sad voice. “I am not. I left my husband some years ago. I had to – he was mad like Barababu. I am low caste, I could do that when I could take no more – but you are highborn Boudi, do you have a choice?”

She had no answer to that – she truly did not know.

*

Dwita was still seated in her armchair when the first light of dawn crept through the window of her room. Shaila was fast asleep on the rug at her feet. She had not left her. There was the sound of a car under the portico – doors slammed, there were voices – one familiar one. Prithwish had arrived.

She stayed where she was. She had no energy or desire to see anyone – they could seek her out if they wished. Minutes later a voice called, “Dwita, are you awake? May I come in?” Shaila got up quickly and disappeared, leaving them to face each other. Prithwish was a picture of consternation.

“I am so sorry, Dwita, truly sorry. What can I say? I had asked him not to bring you here until Ashish was back in hospital, but he did not listen – he never does.”

“What happens now?”

“I have brought Dr Mitra with me. It took some persuasion to bring him here and he is very angry. He does not want to have anything to do with us Duttas. I do not really blame him.”

“Why? What have the Duttas done now, except deceive me?” she said with bitterness.

“Exactly that. He had asked us and Nishith not to think of marriage, not until he felt he could cure him, but Nishith disobeyed Dr Mitra and married you when Dr Mitra was out of the country. He thinks we are all criminals.”

“And are you?”

“Please do not be sarcastic, Dwita, not now. I know you cannot help your feelings, but it is done now, all over. Please try and forgive–”

“Forgive?”

“Even if you cannot forgive, you have to accept that we are all in it together, and we must do what we can.”

“Who are ‘we'?”

“All of us, but primarily you and me, for no one else has any idea what to do. Let us go and speak to Dr Mitra.”

They went together to an anteroom on the ground floor that was set up as an office. She had not been there before. Here she was introduced to a short, stout man in his late fifties, with a shock of white hair and kind thoughtful eyes.

“I am Bijit Mitra, and you must be Dwita. Come, sit next to me. We have a lot to say to each other. Prithwish, please leave us alone, my boy. Send us some coffee, kindly.”

Prithwish left them, closing the door behind him, and the coffee came in due course.

“Dwita, we must be frank with each other. We cannot afford to hide anything – I am his doctor and you are his wife and victim.” He smiled sadly and continued, “I had asked Nishith not to get married and not have children. He is a sick man – very sick indeed. I have propped him up with drugs, all these years, but he is gradually becoming immune to most of them. We shall soon have very few left to choose from, and then what?”

“Can he not be cured? Can nothing at all be done to help him?”

“Nothing permanent. We have obviously been able to help him to some extent, just enough to be able to live normally to a limited degree, but not for long periods. He has frequent relapses.”

“But he goes to work, plays sport.”

“Yes, of course he does. The chairman of Hutchinson was his father's friend. Dutta Enterprises had invested heavily in the company. I have had to take the chairman into my confidence. He knows all about Nishith.”

“But he was recently promoted to a more senior position – so he said.”

“He was – but only on paper. It was a therapeutic move for his well-being. He needs to be given a boost from time to time. You see, he suffers from a serious mental illness – a kind of megalomania. He has periods of ecstasy followed by weeks and months of depression. When he is ‘ecstatic' he goes quite wild, physically; he plays excessive sport, he is oversexed and aggressive. I have to give him drugs to calm him down. When he is under the spell of the drug he is fairly normal and he sleeps well. But then he begins to get depressed, which can be enhanced by prolonged medication. He sinks into severe depression and at that time we have to make nice things happen for him in addition to changing medication. Hutchinsons have been kind enough to cooperate and give the matter complete confidentiality at the top management level.”

“But, doctor, when did all this begin? Is it hereditary? They all seem to speak of a curse in the family.”

“As a scientist, Dwita, I cannot support old wives' tales. I think it is hereditary in his case. You may say that their family has been cursed with misfortune, but I cannot agree that the misfortunes are the results of curses. They are the products of irresponsible practices of unscrupulous, amoral members of the Dutta family. I have not known them for generations, but from what I have gathered from Prithwish and their mother, it seems that the men of this family have been reckless and indulgent, and often sacrificed others to their self-interest. There has been insanity in the family for generations – we know only of four, but there may have been more before that. They should never have married or had children. I had warned Nishith in no uncertain terms.”

“Is there no hope?”

“I wish I could say yes, but the ethics of my profession prevent me from deceiving you – there is no hope, none at all. I have been treating him for the last twenty years. The symptoms of a degenerating mind were present from his childhood. They revealed themselves more definitely when he had a bout of brain fever. He has been under my treatment ever since then. I have brought in other consultants from all over the world, discussed his case with colleagues overseas, and we have agreed that there is no permanent cure for him. We can only hold the illness at bay for periods of time. However, that too is not for ever.”

“I see.”

“Did you not have any inkling at all of his abnormal behaviour? I mean before you married him?”

“I had no choice – hence I may not have noticed too much.”

“Why no choice? Were you forced into this marriage by your family?”

“Please excuse me – I cannot explain it further.”

He shook his head sadly. “The immorality of it makes me so angry – men like him should be kept safe from harming others. He has put his brother under lock and key, why could he not show more self-control in his own case? He deceived me, he married you when I was overseas so that I was not here to stop it. What about Prithwish, what about his mother? Where were they?”

“I believe they had tried to dissuade him – but they all seem to fear him.”

“Stupid fools – and poor Prithwish is incapable, although I think he has more of a moral conscience than the rest of the family… Well, let us get down to business. What are your plans now that you know everything? You have no future with him, you cannot continue to live with him. You are very young, Dwita, young enough to be my daughter. You must take my advice and leave him. Leave him soon, my child, before it is too late – find a new life for yourself. Go back to your family, see a lawyer, begin proceedings and try to start again.”

“I cannot – I do not wish to go back to my family. I would not be here today if my family had thought otherwise. I promised Nishith that I would stand by the vows of marriage.”

“What vows? Of what use are they when they are founded on lies and deceit? Don't be a fool, Dwita, think again. Leave him, child. You cannot possibly give your life up for a man who has been far from honest or fair with you.”

“I shall look for work, take up a career.”

“It is up to you, but please think again. You cannot live with Nishith, you cannot cohabit as husband and wife. You must not have children. I am not even sure that it is wholly safe to share a bed with him. In any case he is in a bad way after last night. I am taking him with me to my nursing home. He must be kept under observation. This will give you time to think. You must leave here at once. Ashish is a worse case, he is violent and murderous – he should never have been taken out of hospital. No one here can control him.”

“Thank you for all your concern, Dr Mitra. I understand and I will think; I must find a way out of all of this – I feel so confused.”

“I do not blame you for your confusion. Let us find Prithwish and make the necessary arrangements for our departure.”

Later, Dwita had left with Prithwish in the car, while Dr Mitra went with Nishith in another car which had driven up from Calcutta with his assistant and two nurses. They had taken Nishith away heavily sedated. For Dwita and Prithwish it was a silent journey; there was nothing to say. They were following the same road that had taken her to Benebagan earlier. The distant tranquillity of the passing villages had become a desolation which pervaded her numbed consciousness. She was lost.

Dr Mitra had spoken to Prithwish in front of her, making no secret of his annoyance and displeasure at the family's connivance with Nishith over the marriage. He had ended by saying, “What a waste, what blatant, disgusting waste of innocence and youth. I hope some day, someone will stand to answer for it.”

Dwita had returned to Calcutta, to their house and to her bedroom. She had locked herself in – she felt unable to bear sympathy or commiseration. She was exhausted, her body felt heavy and lifeless, as if the circulation had seized up in her veins. They brought food and drink – she refused everything. She wanted to cry, cry copiously – but no tears came. Her eyes stung, her chest hurt with the weight of a grief that she must bear far into the future. She had nowhere to go, even Mahama would not understand. It would have to be borne alone. She had to live with it until one of them died, “until death do us part.” There was certainly a part of her that rejected the sacrifice, taunting her, “how absurd!” But promises made by a Chowdhury were not supposed to be broken, they were held in sacred trust. Dima had once told Parna that, and the child Dwita had overheard and absorbed the unwritten law.

“Dwita, please open the door,” Prithwish pleaded, “your mother is on the line, she wishes to speak to you.”

She opened the door, passed Prithwish wordlessly and took up the receiver. He gazed at her, eyes entreating mercy. She said, “Have no fear, I am in no position to talk.”

“Yes, mother, yes, I returned today… Did you have a good tour?… Oh, good – yes our visit went off well… Oh, yes, I managed to see the estate; yes, of course – and I met Ashish – he is fine… No, Nishith is not back. He decided to travel from there on urgent office business. I shall come and see you soon… No, Ma, not today, perhaps tomorrow. I shall ring you to fix the time… No, not definitely today. Bye for now.”