Griha-pravesha

6 months ago

proteeti

@sambhavami

As the morning rose, Krishna headed towards the vraja fields. He took his time, taking in his surroundings, as Ramu, their young guide from the previous night, chattered on, leading the way. He was anxious to leave Radha alone at the lodger's, but they needed some kind of a job, and Radha had practically pushed him out the door when the little boy had offered to introduce him.

The landscape of the valley was far less intimidating in daylight, Krishna noted. They had left the hubbub of the city at the crack of dawn, crossing numerous streams and smaller, tribal settlements, to finally reach a clearing that ran into lush, green meadows embraced by the bordering hillocks adorned in towering waterfalls. Krishna's mind almost slipped back to Vrindavana as he turned around on his heel, much to Ramu's amusement.

As Krishna looked back, the walls of Girivraja now seemed like a tiny speck against the backdrop of the hilly terrain. They must've walked at least a yojana, Krishna silently calculated as he looked up at the sun that was already at its peak, washing a bead of sweat from his brow.

The other cowherds sat in a circle underneath a giant banyan tree, only occasionally calling out to their wandering livestock. They all seemed to be concentrating on a board game. The men occasionally exclaimed or cursed aloud, bragging about or bemoaning the bets they had played at. A few others lay strewn about the field, having dozed off, with their scarves spread over their eyes to block the sun. At least a dozen cows strolled lazily in the near vicinity, with their calves weaving along their feet. Mooing reverberated from even the meadows farthest along their line of sight. The cows nearby occasionally lifted their heads to return the calls.

A small stream meandered around the clearing. Women, presumably local house-minders, had gathered around it, idly whispering among themselves as they filled up earthen vessels of various shapes and sizes with water. A new wave of whispers, whistles and giggles immediately arose among them as the women noticed Krishna. His body was already slick with sweat from the exertion of walking up the last hill. His trusty stick held up across his shoulder and a dark scarf wrapped around his neck, he laughed shyly as he allowed Ramu to pull him along, away from the rowdy maidens.

Ramu then led him straight to the eldest among the cowherds gathered under the tree. Krishna bowed to the man with folded hands, as the latter nodded and invited him to sit. Ramu briefly introduced Krishna to the rest of the men.

"So, Damodar, where are you coming from?" The old man asked.

"The village Govardhana."

"Never heard of it." The cowherds all looked at each other, shaking their heads sceptically. They didn't like strangers.

"It's a really small place up north. Near Mathura."

The man raised an eyebrow, "Mathura? Like where the princesses were married? Why'd you move?"

Krishna drew a sharp breath, and started explaining with a dramatic flair. It was extremely important that these people should trust him, "The King, Kamsa, got killed, you might have heard. God bless his soul! The people there are trying something new with the government. A democracy or something it is called. There's no King! The people themselves make their rules! Can you imagine? I didn't like the one bit! So, I told my wife that very same day: pack your things, we are leaving!" Krishna paused a bit to gauge his audience. They were hanging on greedily to his every word. He had always had a talent for extempore. He continued with a grin, "You see, we are still young. We just got married. I just want to raise my family in a stable environment, and where better to do it but here? Right at the heart of the domain of the Emperor of Emperors!" Even as Krishna finished with a flourish, he knew he had succeeded. These were simple people with simple rules. Nothing but a simplistic appeal to their traditional values was to impress them. Krishna's life among the aahira people of Vrindavana had taught him at least this much.

The old man smiled through his missing teeth as he landed a congratulatory slap on Krishna's back, "Well spoken there lad, long live our Emperor!" The other men too raised their arms above their head, echoing the sentiment. Krishna too nodded encouragingly as he mimicked their actions.

The old man continued, "I'd have liked to take you in as part of our flock nice and proper, but you see, the funds are a bit tight now. Nothing personal, it's just with the manhunt for that wretched murderer, there's simply not enough funding for all of us here. Already, we are rationing our own supplies. What's more, there's a rumour that the Emperor is preparing for war against that Mathura kingdom. Do you understand? Soon, there might be no funds left for us, and mandatory enlistments on top of that!"

Krishna nodded with a sigh. He understood their dilemma, and yet felt dejected. More fearsome to him was the prospect of returning empty-handed to Radha. After all, she had left behind her home, her family and the security of her old life- all because he'd shown her a dream.

The old man spoke again, breaking the chain of his thoughts, "Don't you look so morose, young man! There's not nothing. What I can do for you, is give you a quarter to stay in, but mind, the house won't be big. In fact, it's the smallest one on the compound, and you'll need to do some patchwork for the roof. Also, I wouldn't be able to pay you right away. At least, not until this whole war thing blows over, but you will be given daily food rations. Say, what more would a young couple like you need?"

Krishna smiled quietly, nodding along to the man's words. It hit him just then that he had never done anything else in his life. At this point his resume boasted only of his experience in herding cows and killing a king, and only one of those was something to be cited in polite company. Krishna therefore politely bowed again, accepting the terms.

"Welcome aboard then, Damodar. Make sure you're at the assembly point in the city at the beginning of the eighth prahara of tonight. Don't be late! Remember, we need to be here by sunrise. Now, I heard you told the officer that you could play the flute. Let us hear it then!"

---

Krishna discretely held Radha's hand as together they stepped into their new home that evening. The old man hadn't lied. The 'house' consisted only of one and a half rooms, with the sky peeking in through little holes in the thatched roof. There was no furniture inside the house, except for an empty earthen pitcher for water, a clay stove and a bunch of hay strewn across the floor. An older lady, the wife of the cowherds' leader, had come to usher them into their humble abode.

With her she had brought a tiny lamp, some wood, a copper pot and bowl of uncooked rice. "Remember to return them once you've bought your own," She whispered in Radha's ear. A crooked laugh lingered in the room as she happily flitted out of the door.

Radha turned towards Krishna, laughing incredulously, as she shook her head. Krishna too couldn't help but laugh, as they set out to figure out their simple kitchen.

"Water! We need water," Krishna noted, as he shook the empty pitcher.

"There's a well down the road," Radha pointed a finger outwards as she got up.

Krishna shook his head as he sat her back down, "I can go. You figure out the fire."

"Fine," Radha huffed, feigning anger, "But I've already seen the girls up there. If your eye wanders even for a second, Krishna," She raised a finger, arching a brow, "I won't be held responsible for my actions."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll see," Krishna smirked as he strutted out.

Once the rice had been boiled with some effort atop the new stove, they poured their humble meal unto the two banana leaves that Krishna had gathered on his way back. Once they had settled down to eat, facing each other, Radha reached into their little bag and pulled out a little jar filled to the brim with mango pickle. "I stole it when we were leaving," she admitted sheepishly.

"Oh, I love you so much!" Krishna let out a hearty chuckle, as he eagerly smelled the pickle and eagerly served generous amounts onto both of their plates.

The night they spent rolling on the rather uncomfortable makeshift beds fashioned out of hay, but they both agreed heartily that this was better in leaps and bounds than the crowded hovel at the travellers' inn.

---

At the eighth hour, they were awakened by the chatter of cowherd families. It still being the dead of the night, tempers ran high along the street. Sweet and sour fights rang across the neighbourhood, awakening the late risers. The men had already begun to leave for the pastures, while the womenfolk rushed to see off their husbands and children. Some of them stood at their gates smiling and waving, their garments loose against their frames, while some of them ran behind their men, their dresses tied tight around their waists, frantically waving forgotten articles.

Krishna quickly rushed to retrieve his scarf, while Radha scrambled to pack up the previous night's leftovers in a clean leaf. Bumbling and joking, they were both out of the house in minutes. Radha walked along with the cowherds up until the city walls before bidding them adieu and returning to the quarters.

As the rosy sun started to peek through the clouds, Radha made her way over to the cowherd chief's house. "Dehi!" She called out.

"Wait, right there! Do not enter!" Came the older woman's voice from within the house. Only after a few minutes she came stumbling out, "Have you taken a bath yet?"

Radha shook her head, caught off guard. In all their excitement and the hustle of travel, it hadn't even occurred to her that she didn't have another set of clothes. When Krishna had called, she had left her house behind him, holding on to the end of his uttariya, with no other thought in mind but to go wherever he led her.

The woman shook her head disapprovingly. Just then another young woman slipped around her, on her way out. The older woman pulled her back by the arm. Snatching the dress from her hands she threw it at Radha across the small yard, barking at the other woman, "Get yourself another one!" She turned to Radha with same sickly smile as the previous night, "Go freshen up and then come collect your ration. And, dear, remember to return the saree."

The young woman came out, accompanied by another girl about five or six years younger. Nodding her head, she motioned Radha to follow. Eventually they reached a small lake, shrouded on all sides by thick, wily groves. Markings adorned nearly every tree trunk near this area, warning unwanted visitors to steer clear of it, as it was designated for the exclusive use of the women of this neighbourhood.

Only once Radha had bathed, did she realise how much dust and grime had accumulated upon her darkish, golden complexion, over the course of the past few days. Even as she adorned herself in the bright red garments of the other lady, the other women stared at her, whispering from afar.

The other woman, who had introduced herself as Sumanti, the cowherd chief's daughter-in-law, turned Radha around by the arm to draw Radha's veil lower, gently admonishing her, "See, even the women can't take their eyes off of you! Trust me, you do not want the men to take notice! God forbid an officer hears of you!" Smiling reluctantly, Radha had pulled her veil even lower, despite her annoyance. Throwing her own washed saree over her shoulder she followed the women back to the neighbourhood. She knew that Sumanti meant well, and yet it reminded her with an uncomfortable intensity, the early days of her marriage to Ayan Ghosh, wherein her mother-in-law had insisted on keeping her veiled even within the house, even if she were to boil alive in the sweltering summer heat!

---

In the afternoon, Radha locked their humble door and walked over again to the chief's compound. This time she was somewhat relieved to find Sumanti sitting alone on the porch, quietly knitting a scarf.

Radha settled down on the porch beside her newfound friend, "Whose likeness are you knitting on this? Is that a Goddess? She doesn't look like the pictures we drew back in our village."

Sumanti immediately raised her hands to the air, setting the scarf aside, "That's Mother Jara! She was like a mother to the Emperor himself! She was a rakshasi, but she saved the Emperor when he was very sick as a baby. She now keeps all of us safe from danger and illness." Hearing the story, Radha had folded her own hands as well, that she too then raised towards the heavens just like the other woman. She was not particularly fond of the idea of this Emperor, but a protecting maternal figure was no one to be scoffed at!

Sumanti motioned to a set of symbols drawn in white around the main door of their house, "Those are protective signs to invoke Mother Jara. I'll give you some crushed rice to make the ink, I say you too should draw these symbols around your house. I'll show you how to." She smiled widely, showing off her crooked teeth.

However, their delight was not to last, as soon her mother-in-law too came out upon catching a part of the conversation, and stood at the door staring down at Radha with a questioning glare.

"I was just wondering if I could help you with something?" She stammered.

"Why, dear?" The older woman asked, "Finished your chores already? First time, I'm seeing a lady who has nothing to do in her own house. In my day, we used to call such women, who couldn't find work in their own homes, by a certain term that I wouldn't repeat, lest you young-blooded, the future of our society, be offended!"

Rebuked by the lady, Radha awkwardly returned to her own house, but didn't go in. It was already shaping up to be a sultry afternoon, and no air entered the rooms, despite the cracks in the roof. Therefore, Radha dusted off a part of the little porch in front of her door and sat down before the saree that she had hung out to dry in the sun, observing the lonesome neighbourhood, twisting and untwisting the end of the red saree as she rested her head on the bamboo pole holding up the roof extension.

After a while, a group of giggling girls came bouncing by. Radha straightened up immediately, and beckoned them closer.

"Where're you going?" She asked with a wide grin, "I'll give you some pickle if you tell me!" From their dresses and jewellery, she guessed they hailed from one of the nearby tribal clusters.

"To the arms factory!" They replied as they turned towards the house, "It's no place like a good woman like you!"

"Well, now I have to check it out!" Radha laughed teasingly as she jumped up and started following the girls, "You'll get your pickle when I've seen the place for myself!"

That night when Krishna came home, Radha was already waiting for him, with the steaming rice piled on a pair of earthen plates, with the last remaining bits of the pickle carefully nudged in a corner.

As they started to eat, Radha sheepishly tugged at Krishna's dhoti, "You know, I did something today. You saw that factory on the main street? I went there today, and I got a job!"

Krishna's eyes shot up at her words, but he didn't speak. Radha drew a sharp breath as she continued, "They needed extra hands at the department of arrows. You know, with the war they are planning for? I made those five kinds of arrows that I knew how to, on the spot, and they hired me! I'll only have to work around ten hours a day, they will pay me in actual money! What's better, they even gave me an advance! With that itself I bought these plates from the market on my way back!"

Krishna laughed as he nodded, "You've been busy!" He exclaimed as he excitedly held her hand, "Far greater than what I can say of myself!"

Radha laughed too, letting out a sigh of relief, "You earn the food then, and I will get the rest!" She winked at him.

Once the night had darkened further, and no more sounds were to be heard from the neighbouring houses, Radha and Krishna came out to sit on their porch. As Radha explained the various protective charms that she had drawn around the walls of the house with Sumanti's help, she leaned slightly on Krishna, who listened contentedly with an arm loosely wrapped around his beloved.