The Waiting

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Fiction

The Waiting

Fiction by Gautam Shahi

The village suddenly seemed to have come back to life. After a very long time, the bazaar was bustling with people. She had not seen such a rush in the market for a long time. A strange feeling of excitement mixed with fear engulfed her mind as Anita moved towards the Abdul Chacha’s (uncle) shop. Today she’d make masoor dal (a kind of pulse). Ratan had always relished eating it.
Abdul the shopkeeper gave her an understanding smile as she reached his shop.
"It's been the hardest on you, beti (daughter). Separated for such a long time just after one month of marriage. But don’t worry, it's all in the hands of Allah. See, now everything will get all right."
She hesitated before speaking. "Chacha, I wanted to make a little masoor dal for him. He always said that he liked it. But I don’t have enough money. Can you lend me just a hundred grams? I’ll pay you back as soon as he’ll start earning."
Abdul replied in a warm tone, "Why are you insulting me, daughter? Ratan is like a son to me. Do you think I’ll charge you for such a small thing and that also on such a big occasion? I have to show my face to Allah."; Saying this he packed the masoor dal in a polythene and gave it to her.
"Thank you, Chacha.";
"By the way, when are you leaving?"
"Sahib (sir), said he’ll be arriving in the evening so I’ll take the afternoon bus."
"May Allah be with you, daughter.
Keeping the packet in the hands as if something very precious, she turned and started walking towards her house.
Yes, it had been hard on her. How happy she was on the day of her marriage. Ratan was a good man. He also earned good money working on the fishing trawler. After getting married, Ratan had started saving money in the hopes of buying his own boat someday. His employer, Rahim Khan, a burly old man, had promised to help him. Rahim Khan was a much respected man in the Khavda village. He was also the richest among the poor people, mostly fishermen, of the village.
Back home, Anita washed the dal and started frying it. She had lived alone for most of the last year. Ratan’s old father had died after a few days of hearing about Ratan’s arrest in the sea. The whole village had turned dead since they heard that news. Thirty-two men of the same village had been arrested on the two fishing boats, while they were out fishing in the Gulf of Kuchch. A local politician had come to their village and called it kidnapping by the Pakistani. He condemned the act and tried to console them.
But the words of consolation fell on deaf ears. Anita had gone numb after hearing the news. She had been married just one month when the tragedy struck. She did not know for what sin God had punished her.
Since then the village had worn a deserted look. All the women preferred to remain inside the house as those few men, who had been left went about their job.
But today the sons of Khavda were returning. Her husband, her love, was returning. Now everything would become all right.
After preparing the dal she washed and cooked the last bit of rice that had been left with her. She wanted to give Ratan a good dinner after a year in Pakistan, which she was sure would have been a very bad experience. Ratan had told her about his friends who had been captured or sometimes kidnapped in international water. They had told him that Pakistanis kept them in very small cells and mistreated them. They did not even provide medical help when required. Many of his friends had come back with live worms wiggling out of their wounds, given to them by severe Pakistani beating.
Anita shivered thinking of it and prayed that Ratan might have been saved from such extreme troubles. Babus had told them that around two hundred Indian fishermen were being returned by Pakistanis as a goodwill gesture and that all the men of their village will be coming back. They’ll be landing at Okha and so relatives could meet them there after the official procedure would be over. She did not know about these official procedures but Rahim khan had told her that these were just to check if any fisherman had turned against the country.
She looked at the sun outside and guessed that the bus to Okha would be leaving in a few minutes. She picked up a bag containing some dry bread and after locking her house, though there was nothing to be locked, started walking towards the bus stop. As she reached the bus stop she saw many of her fellow villagers standing there, trying to save themselves from the scorching sun by putting clothes over their head. But all had a peace in their eyes and a shine on their face which she had not seen for a long time.
Soon the bus arrived and she took the window seat. Yes, she was very happy. She liked the wind rubbing against her face. At last her loneliness would come to an end. During the whole of last year it was the loneliness that was most painful. Nobody to whom she could confide her thoughts. Nobody with whom she could share her troubles. It was like a virtual prison. It had been a dry life for her. She knew it was almost the same with the whole village but it was worse on her because Ratan had been the only one who she could call her own. Brought up by her uncles after the death of her parents in a boat tragedy, she had had a lonely life. Her aunts made her work in return of feeding her and her cousins considered her inferior to themselves. After the long days of hard work she used to sit alone in the cold storage room and feel miserable.
She had always dreamt her marriage. Dreamt of having her own family. And with Ratan all her dreams were about to come true when the tragedy struck and left her alone in the abyss of despair.
Khavda to Okha is a two hour journey by bus. Almost an hour had passed. Another few hours and all her dreams will again come in view. The houses, trees and vehicles rushed past giving her a happy feeling that she was moving fast towards her destination after a year of waiting. It gave her a sense of fulfillment.
Suddenly a burned down charred house passed by. It reminded her of the days of bloody communal trouble that had plagued the whole of Gujarat after the Godhra carnage. Thousands of innocents had been massacred. She had been alone during the time. And when Muslim fanatics from the neighboring villages came to her village, Abdul Chacha, himself a Muslim, had saved her from those hungry wolves by hiding her in his own house. Those were the dark days in the history of the region. Though her largely Muslim village had no such fanatics but there was always fear of being attacked by mobs, Hindu or Muslims, from the neighboring village.
She never could understand such behavior. How could one man kill another just on the name of religion? Abdul Chacha was also a Muslim and the most devout Muslim in the village. He had saved her on the risk of his own life. And all her immediate neighbors were Muslims. Though themselves very poor, they had tried to help her whenever they could.
After the carnage she had heard the stories of women being raped and killed. Innocent men being mutated or killed. Rahim Khan had told her of seeing the body of a pregnant Hindu woman who had first been raped and then her unborn baby had been taken out and killed by slashing open her stomach. She had heard many such horrible stories and had been thankful to God and his neighbours for saving her.
A sudden jerk brought her back to present from the world of her painful memories. Okha Port had arrived. As she stepped down from the bus, she saw that people from many nearby villages had come to receive their lost relatives.
One port official was there to meet them. He directed them towards a place from where they could see the ships docking. He told them that the ship would be arriving in a few minutes.
Though the ship arrived in fifteen minutes, the time seemed much longer to her. First they saw a ship with the Pakistani flag and suddenly the quiet room filled with sounds of excited talking. People started pointing towards the ship and murmured in their native dialect to their neighbors who did not understand a word of it. It took another ten minutes for the ship to dock.
As soon the ship docked the fishermen started stepping down the ship. On touching their native soil, some prayed to the God and others kneeled down and kissed it. People in Anita’s chamber started shouting and cheering but she remained quiet looking towards the ship. As such an introvert by nature, the moment was too big for her to cheer or shout.
The fishermen, many of whom she recognized, started moving towards a room in the direction of port officials. She recognized Anwar, the son of her neighbor, then came Rahim Chacha who had worked with Ratan, then there was Karim, Ratan’s childhood friend who had often come to their house in the first month after marriage. She recognized many such people and then suddenly the line came to an end. She had not seen Ratan!
Fear suddenly grabbed her. Her heart started beating faster. Maybe she had missed seeing him. She ran outside the room where one of the port officials was sitting.
"Sahib, my husband, Ratan, was to come today. He was on one of the captured boats, but I could not see him after the ship docked."
The arrival of ship had started hectic activities on the port. The already much harassed official brushed her aside by sending her to the door from where the fishermen would come after being interrogated by the Intelligence Bureau officials.
With fear in her heart, Anita ran towards the door where another official asked her to wait outside though she pleaded with him to let her in. But her pleads fell on ears made deaf by their duty.
Soon the fishermen started trickling out of the room. They rushed to their dear ones as soon as they came out of the room. But nobody came towards Anita. She kept looking until the last man came out of the room. When nobody else came out of the room, maybe she understood that Ratan had not come. But still she wanted to check the room.
But when she tried to enter the room the official at the door stopped her.
"What do you want, lady?" he asked her rudely.
"Sahib, my husband has still not come out." The official understood the situation. He softened a little.
"Sister, all those who came have come out of the room. There is nobody else left inside." Anita’s knees buckled and she sagged to the ground. The official, feeling helpless in the situation, moved away.
Suddenly somebody touched her shoulders. She looked back. It was Rahim Chacha. Rahim saw the question in her eyes.
"Chacha, where did you leave my Ratan?
Rahim’s eyes became moist.
"Beti (daughter), during the riots in India, they abused and beat the Hindus and took them away threatening to shoot them because Hindus were killing Muslims in India."
Tears trickled down her eyes as she asked, "Is he…is Ratan dead?";
Rahim Chacha was shocked by her direct question. He stammered, "I...I can’t say."
Suddenly Rahim Chacha turned around and started walking away, as he could not control his own tears. He could not see the pain of this young girl whose eyes had suddenly become stony.
As Rahim was walking back, Anita slowly lifted her eyes and said,
"I’LL KEEP WAITING.";

Name - Gautam Shahi
id- gnan_8@rediffmail.com
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Posted 02/23/2004