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The Infidel Lord and the Yellow tree

November 29th, 2009

*4*

:the story of an unknown woman.

“But that is how men are! Ungrateful and never satisfied. When you don’t have them they hate you because you won’t; and when you do have them they hate you again, for some other reason. Or for no reason at all, except that they are discontented children, and can’t be satisfied whatever they get, let a woman do what she may.”

D H Lawrence

That was a Sunday, she finally moved away from him. Sundays were always special for her for love and partings. She took nothing from him. A small luggage that was all she carried to her new place. The boy carried the luggage to the taxi. She said about her intention a day before. He did not utter a word, looked at her brilliance with intent and she smiled within, for she guessed, desire was there in his look. During last few months he tried to be friendly, praised her performances and looked at her with remote inclination. She was pleased within. She knew she had a long way to go. Emotions and sentiments are things of the past. She was no longer a bride of twenty-two that she would weave dreams for a happy conjugal bliss. Had it been so, she would have gone with the man, whom she disgraced and he had never shown his face again. She knew then the man was in love and desired nothing from her.He at best asked her to be truthful and transparent, which she could ill afford then. He never wanted to sleep with her, rather felt she should save herself from a mad pursuit. She hated him and his meanness. Though she was happy somewhere within for his attention and she wished him good luck. She had no intention to be depressing and thought about men with contempt when they tried to be moral police. She hated the man for he spoke of hot passions and asked to be silent when you were in stillness. He thought women in love should be caring .He had vicarious ideas about calling a bunch of violet as violets and nothing else. He thought he was a part of the universe and his blood, breath were part of the earth and sea. He thought adoration should be yearning, and she loathed that. The man could never reach her. He wore a look of aloneness which she could never stand.

She was in the company of rich and intelligent, businessmen and teachers. Men left their young wives and grownup children to be noticed by her. The young boy was her steady companion. He was in his twenties; he once showed her some handwritten abstract lines praising her and said they were meant for her. She did not read them , took it and then forgot. He had a narrow line of soft moustache, his eyes reminded her a forgotten past. He wooed her with slender fumings. He held her hand trembling within. He was ready to be her slave. He never whined like other men, never sighed when left behind. He was like an animal, ready always to follow the master, like a wooly cat he was ready to lick her and could awaken a mysterious luxury in her.

In the company of men she was brilliant. A few proposed her marriage, rich and old, young and intelligent. She smiled at them and never said a word. A pride in her awakened the essential woman, the boy was at her call. He obeyed her without question. He was vibrant even while arranging the odds at her rented accommodation. She switched on the geyser before her bath and cooled the room before she retired. She was happy and spiteful as well. A friend suggested her to join his NGO working for the old and retired. She did not take time to say yes. Once again the bird hummed, trees were green and the sky unbiased blue. She knew she would not be able to exude exotic fragrance all the time. Dark circles under the eyes could not be hidden for ever.

She was given a special place in the organization and was sent to the hills to take charge of the inmates. The boy was with her. She reached the place and a bemusing smile did not leave her lips. There she found a new meaning of life and wished to eternalize the experience of being one with the brilliant sun, living moon, twinkling stars. She embraced the boy with all passions and the boy was at his passion’s end while making love to her. The old men and women found a vivacious company. She saw them smile longer and developed a new found belongingness.

That was a dull afternoon. She saw the boy went behind the bushes. She followed her and wanted to surprise him with her presence. From a distance the yellow bird fluttered above the green hillocks. The boy did not notice him and she heard a soft footstep,

A dark tribe girl came from the flowing stream, giggled. The boy pressed her tight, kissed her, licked her face and neck like a mongrel, she thought,and gave her a couple of ten rupee notes. While he put his hands unto her, she could not bear, her face flustered and she came home and found her feet numb. Looking in the mirror she found the cheek bone scary and a few lines were just below the eyes. She could have forgiven him for his escapade, but the lasciviousness and erotic extravaganza in his looks, while he gave her money put her off. She had a nauseating feeling. Revulsion about men entrenched again and she asked him to move away. The boy protested and like other male threatened her while he left. He did not sneeze and hate was in his eyes. She was rid of guilt.

She spent more time in the company of the old. Their eyes never betrayed any dream; they were sunbathing, putting oils to their bald and white head. Against the wind they held their back, as if they had a wish to withstand the reality and linger the end. She was never in search of a myth and salvation, yet wanted her life to be full and now she had the contentment of being alone and together. She never shed her honour and hard work was how she saw life. No smooth sailing, she was arrogant, some complained, she was cruel, the boy said. She waited all her life to fill her vacuum of solitude. No men could do justice to her; she exhorted and denied the thought. She had compressed herself to wastepaper baskets, the basket of inane pathos of soul and the morbid curiosity had served her in good stead. She had a wakened soul, she wanted to touch life in all its possibilities and never tried to be an onlooker and witness the essential tragic unfolding of life. She never dithered and like the phoenix tried to raise and rise for a brighter morning. People never mattered, only the craving to be related to the inner and outer life of wild and sombre carried her.

The old man was sitting against the sun and it was well past morning dew.She took a towel and wiped the sweat drops from the old man's back, the man gave him a toothless essence of a spreading smile. A beatific radiance entangled her face, spine and chest,green and water around , a sublimation to deliver, an extenuation of self and a transcendence to the universe. She felt she was not sinless, yet someone inside her somewhere was awake and would never cry for any virtual company, yet would cherish hope to be relived again.

A small framed inscription, calligraphed by an inmate on the visitor’s waiting room wall read:

Cool, unlying life will rush in,
and passion will make our bodies taut with power, we shall stamp our feet with new power
and old things will fall down,
we shall laugh, and institutions will curl up like
burnt paper.”

photo: Abhijit

*****

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The Infidel Lord and the Yellow tree

November 29th, 2009

:the story of an unknown woman

*3*

'That my soul is a dark forest. That my known self will never be more than a little clearing in the forest. That gods, strange gods, come forth from the forest into the clearing of my known self, and then go back. That I must have the courage to let them come and go.'

D H Lawrence

She wanted to lead a life of her own, away from the ordinary, a life which turns a caterpillar to a mosaic of colours. But she could not and the opportunity was near, she thought. The boy was handsome and always had a wide grin, the day they met he wanted to touch her palm, and she saw the grandfather, yet gathered unknown courage to extend her hand, albeit stealthily. He touched her hand for a moment; she withdrew as if a snake leapt unto her. She looked into his eyes. It had a natural stubbornness, she mused he had a manly grin.

She forgot the tutor boy and was pleased with herself that she is free and in love. The man was ten years older than her, fair and tall, a masculine vigorous gait, she dreamed. The nights would be longer and never lonely. Once again she searched her book rack but found the guide missing. She did not feel what her mother told her, never again she thought of her grandfather. Asked her friends how to behave with men, her mother gave her tips on conjugal bliss. She never listened to her.

She looked gorgeous in her bridal silk. Hairline up to the slim waist, triangular bony face, wide retina, small and full bosom, long fingers elegantly manicured, flat abdomen and shapely ankle and soft legs; she exuded confidence. Before the ceremony she was accompanied to a beauty par- lour and her mother took keen interest that her daughter looked her best. Reaching home she saw her face, radiant and she smiled. Thought an ugly duckling transformed to a beautiful angel.

The woman in her mother had a look, she could never forget. She was jealous and perturbed, till date she was unable to fathom it.

The couple had their first night together in a small local hotel. Her father could not afford an all paid honeymoon trip to a hill station. The evening was bleary and her eyes were dreamy. Lingering shadows of ineptitude about companionship made her worried and also led her to uncanny wilderness. The cacophony of emotions ended in a disaster. The faith had a dampening silence. Eerie sounds and weird fatigue filled her small form. The groom wanted to know whether she was a virgin or not. Once reassured he snored. The bird she cherished did not hum and the young virgin was left marooned in her ancient loneliness, the isolation turned to despairs. She could not get away nor could have an enchantment in her pursuit.

The life then was an ensemble of distant thunders and servile contempt. They lived in the same house; physical proximity was few and far between. She saw her glowing skin had cracks and after almost five years of diminishing togetherness they decided to move apart. They had no child to move together. Then the man started wooing another woman. She was left where she had been all along. A lonely, beautiful woman once dreamt of all delicate things and through out was her company a creepy and quiet isolation. She cried before her parents, cajoled and prayed her husband. The man was never inclined to his disconsolate wife. Her parents rebuked her indiscretion and the mother said her sexless bitch. She was scorned for not being able to rein in a good and humorous husband.

Like cards she counted one, two, three and ten years passed her, her face had wrinkles, a few streakks of grey. She could not count the scars over her body. The man used to be brazen and violent very often. Once angry, he tortured and beat her with anything that came in handy. There were more injuries and they healed fast, for more marks and scars were in store. The man asked her to move away, they stopped sharing a room. She was left in a corner room, when the man was in delirium, asked her to be his doll. She did what was asked of her. She felt nauseating, vomited often and after the orgy, she was left frustrated and humiliated with red scars over her body. The humble woman had a few company, a music system, cell phone and a transistor, the man paid for them. Assault and hurt never left her alone. She had religiously catered to his perversions and fancies.

An evening , she decided to move apart , when the man called her more distasteful than a prostitute. She took music lessons and attended recitation classes. To her surprise the husband was indifferent to her new move. She spent more time praying God and reading religious texts. She had a strange feeling she was opening up, and the road to freedom was near. She spent more time in male company. She attended musical nights and recitations. The man brought his girl friend during her absence.

The new woman in her looked cheerful and was fond of her body. She massaged her body for several minutes, took long time near mirror before going out. Men came to her with wide eyes; she responded them with a hazy smile. Her voice lost its credulousness and was sonorous. She was never hesitant and eyed men with unusual care, none ever knew the mascara behind hid tear pearls. Men praised her, many adored her and she was sought in social circles. She was considered a feminine mystique by many, and she obliged with an almost wry whimper, which escaped the onlooker.

Screams passed her and she was confident she could dispense with solitude with artful vengeance. Exuding confidence, she extenuated the shell of her loneliness. She relegated the frustration to the waste and filled her soul with hope for a better world, admiration and pats came her way and she was glad to accept them without hesitation. Men held her hand for unusually long, and she smiled at them. She was hard pressed in her engagements, earned enough to change dress every hour. She was happy in rich company.

In the meantime a man was after her, ridiculously ugly and black, vulnerable to credulity was his forte. He was gullible to whims and na've enough to idolise her. He was almost a crap in his fanciful sentiments. The only thing prominent was his eyes. He made it a point to be over protective about her. She was pleased with her charisma and tried enough to dissuade him from his dreams. Yet she failed and then left him to his misfortunes. The man was obsessively possessive, passive in his admiration, which she loathed most. The man was delinquent, she thought and she could never absolve him of a dream that they were in love. She was not in a mood to forgive him for his crazy chase.

She knew those were the men, who never realized a woman was anyway special, the moment they were denied their wishes , they called the woman haughty, arrogant and frivolous, took upon themselves to mend her and failed once, embarked upon gloom and despair. Creepers they were, she rationalized and decided to give him a despicable exit. But ,at times, in the dark, where she did not see her bulging wardrobes, she thought none adored her more than the black and ugly megalomaniac man, whom she hated and shifted to bin.

She remembered the day she decided to part with him. He came with a bouquet of rose and jasmine, just before she was moving out for a rehearsal. She did not give him her usual smile, asked him to put the bouquet at her place and without waiting for an answer she moved away with her young admirer.

The man was never seen again and she hated melodrama, for life has become then an enigma and ennui had left her long.

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The Infidel Lord and the Yellow Tree

November 28th, 2009

:the story of an unknown woman

*2*

'Men always want to be a woman’s first love - women like to be a man's last romance.'

From a very tender age she loved silence, away from sound and fury the little girl took time for a brief stroll, unlike the children of her age, she never bothered to put on violet and pink dress.She loved white and yellow. Any time she wavered from what her mother asked her to do, she wanted to go away from home and be lost in the green and brown around.

She had fever, and cried for a hand above her small head. Her mother came and the little one held her hand and asked her to sit beside. The mother looked very beautiful, a little plumpish and gorgeous in her maroon sari. She had a round red bindi over her forehead; she had an appeal that her daughter could not realize then. The mother looked at her and was silent for a second, her voice then became a hammering thunder; 'do not feign little pig, go and do your home work.' She took away her hands from the little one. The daughter cried and was sobbing after a minute. The woman was furious and slapped her and she did not stop till the child was silent and tears dried up. She suffered for two more days, never did her mother come with a glass of water, a cup of milk.She was brutally told , an ill omen for the family, she was born a daughter and she had brought bad luck for the family. The day she had no fever, she left her home, and did not know where she would go. She went to the family deity's room, sat there cross-legged, asked forgiveness and prayed for her family. She had no patience to do her dishevelled hair, did not even change her dress, a little girl went out to wander in an unkind world.The diminutive figure had not changed her dress during last four days. The mother did not even ask her to do that. It was a pale red frock. The grandfather was so angry with her , she did not dare show her face to the man. He was tall, white, had a broad chest and his eyes always red.

It was almost afternoon when she went out. The street, commuters and the traffic sent up noisy, belligerent sounds of insipidness. The child was alone, lost in a distant world of insolence. The contempt was all around, she could not connect to the grass, trees, birds, grey earth and twitting birds on the peepal branch. These were the objects she connected to and from the day she started taking small steps, strutting and swaggering for the little butterfly, she loved them. She mourned for the dead fly, dry leaves at this early day.

Leaving home she was uneasy, moved at a short pace, a pale vigour covered her small frame. The little one with no money, hungry, thirsty, withered and sneering at her misfortune walked around. Looked at people with expectation and at nightfall a rickshaw puller saw her crying under a light post. Her eyes and the tear drops glistened; reflected was her shadow, and the hope was not yet lost.

She expected her mother would hug her tight and cry aloud, the grandfather would lift her in his arms. Nothing happened. She was given a plate of rice and curry and led to her room. She did not sleep. From the open window she saw fading stars, clouded moon, silhouettes of tall eucalyptus trees. Before sleeping she saw the morning star teasing at the vanishing clouds.

She grew up and forgave her mother. She thought like her she led a lonely isolated life. Her 'army man' father, her mother used to address him, was unresponsive to the mother's desire. He came home twice in a year. She saw them fondling passionately, and unknowingly kept their door open. Those were the days she found her mother in full bloom. Smiles and good words never left her. Then she had creeping sensations running through her soft chest.

The old man never changed. He was not a man of seasons. He lost his wife to a minor ailment in ovary and from then he was ruthless. His rule of law was meant for women. He had a joy in beating her, slapping her, twisting her elbows and once he put a knife to her stomach. Still the deep wound mark reminded her of her punishment. She was smiling and with her was a boy from her class ,under the mango tree in front of their house and the maid dutifully reported it to her mother, the mother said to the old man and the man came with a knife and red hot iron rod. She had not recovered from the burn, when the knife was pointed at her belly.

The young girl did not die then ,for thousand deaths awaited her.Recovering from the burn and injury she rationalized the man was having something wild about him and getting a kind of queer pleasures while torturing her.

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The Infidel Lord and the Yellow Tree

November 25th, 2009

: the story of an unknown woman.

*1*

“I see when men love women, they give them but a little of their lives. But women when they love give everything.” Oscar Wilde

She was looking through the window panes; one hand holding the fragile cup, the other palm above the window railings, the sky was off yellow and the setting sun was taking form of a crimson angel, a ball and wondrous demon . She touched her forehead; a few lines of withering youth have appeared below the receding hairlines, streaks of grey she had concealed. She wore glasses and when she took off, the world outside appeared hazy, a foggy atmosphere, mist and vapours enveloped the earth and the hinterland. Last night the autumn rain lashed the distant forest land, and here in the valley the people had traces of mountain wind and forest cool.

He left her last evening; rather he was driven out of her shelter. She was cruel and asked him to leave her place. She screamed at him; a parasite, and a lazy dog. He looked at her, the gaze then did not agitate her. She was resolute enough and had a tone that exerted fire and scorn. The boy looked at her and the deference in his look and sigh did not stir her.

Before gathering his odds the boy looked at her and was not in tears, and said 'bitch, swine's daughter, keep bulls and set me free.' She did not say anything and just waved him out. He left her and it was almost twenty four hours he saw the boy moving out, a bag dangling over his shoulder, the face wore hate and curse. He was with her for last two years. And after he was gone she felt vanquished and wailed up in her memories pleasant and more caustic.

She remembered, when she was married she was hardly twenty two, just after her graduation the groom was sought, the man with a golden voice, her grandmother said. Five feet eight , fair and poor. The groom was a dreamer, her father said. It was a hot afternoon, he came and conquered her. She wove dreams of cozy togetherness, took lessons in cooking, someone stealthily kept an old volume of 'guide to sex 'at her book shelves. At night she leafed through the volume with care, felt disgusted, nausea overtook her curiosity. She put the volume back at the place it was kept.

Yet she could not rein in her dreams, a small, happy and shining company she craved. Took more time in looking at the mirror, Inside the bathroom, she softly touched the scar marks of torture that she was subjected to by her grand father and mother. Her father was in the army, and mother was alone and loneliness haunted her all the time. Her childhood was a terrorizing primal subordination. She had no freedom; she was never allowed to invite a friend to her house. Talking to boys was a taboo; the only contact was her tutor, a young pale boy, few years older than her, she was fascinated by the boy's interest but never could they speak other than her physics and mathematics problems. The boy once presented her a ball pen, wrapped around it floral paper, which she carefully put at a place, where her mother would not look. They could not speak a word and share anything, and then her marriage was settled. She wanted to scribble down, but could not find the pen, next day she found it at her grandfather's table and forgot.

She heard a small faint thud and was aware that it was night, looked again intently, through the glass a shadowy moon was radiating crescent lumber upon the moving clouds. A jackal's hungry cry and she thought the promiscuous animal was asking his companion to come over to the stream.

The boy was not there, he was like a child lover and a source to move, yet now in his absence she had to join the inmates at their dinner. She wiped her face, put a puff , spread it even and went to the commune.