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Chapter 4
Promises and ExpectationsGeet opened the cupboard and was about to put the photograph in when curiosity took over and she peaked a glance at it.
A tall man in the ceremonial graduation costume, a degree in his hand stood proud in it. He posed for the camera as if it was an afterthought, a favor he bestowed on the poor photographer. An angular face, firm jaw and sharp features set in his face. And his eyes, they were hard, set with an unknown yet firm resolve. And absolutely no traces of a smile.
"Yeh munda!! Aur meri Di layi!!" She looked at it disdainfully, placing the photograph in the cupboard and turned away making a sour face. "Humpphh!!"
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(May, 1980...)
(Army Cantonment, Roorkee...)
There are many things that Army teaches you. But most importantly, it teaches you to be a Man.
Ever since he was a kid, he always felt there was something wrong in the beliefs that his mother held, whereas he could always relate to what his grandmother taught or what his father did.
It made sense to listen to his Dadi when she asked him to apologize to Nayantara Di after he broke her doll. His mother has insisted that he need not to, that Nayantara could do without one toy but he shouldn't feel sorry for having fun. A look at the sad, dejected face of his Di confirmed in his heart that he should listen to his Dadi and not his mother.
Or when their crops, stored in the kothari*, were ruined in the rains once. His mother had screamed at the workers to salvage whatever was left, berating them for being careless and for being good-for-nothings. But he had stood in awe when he saw his father, dressed like a commom worker in a kurta pyjama and repairing the broken roof of the kothari with his own hands.
Maan had always known instinctively that his mother was not an example to follow.
And then he had been sent to Military School. Once he came back, he did not have his Dadi to guide him anymore. But he had found support in one another thing, the spirit of the Army instilled in him. The high echelons of principles and discipline it brought along. The training and skills one acquired, exalting one to a status above average men. To think in a rational, logical manner and yet commit to your duty with a complete heart. To respect other people despite their differences, serve them with the highest honor, and never fail them.
And these were the beliefs that filled him with an overwhelming sense of pride. Not those that his mother made an example of. The place of the mother was soon taken over by his mother institution, The Indian Army, and Maan finally felt that he belonged.
He looked above at the horizon as the first ray of dawn broke into the twilight sky. He held the gaze of the rising sun for a long minute, promising himself to always rise above from wherever he stood in life, before turning back to a 10km jog back to his quarters.
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"Ram ram sa'ab."
"Ram ram Narendar. Uniform tayyar hai?" Maan inquired as he took the glass of water the batman* offered.
"Jee sa'ab."
"Theek hai," he sat down removing his shoes. "Sa'ab, breakfast?" Being a Sunday, he wanted to inquire if there would be any change in Maan's schedule. "Aap yahin lenge ya..."
"Nahi, main Mess* ja kar breakfast karunga." He headed towards his bedroom. "Duty Clerk ko phone kar do aur meri koi bhi daak ho toh Mess mein hi mangwalo," he stopped to further instruct Narendra before heading for his bath.
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"Good Morning Sir."
Maan turned around to at the sound of the greeting as soon as he had entered the Mess. "Good Morning to you to Sir," Maan warmly greeted his colleague and his closest friend Capt. Tejbir Dhillon, "Teji paahji, aap ke darshan yahaan kaise?"
"Kyun veerey, it's my Regimental Mess too, why can't I be here?" Teji retorted back as they headed towards the Ante Room.
Maan asked the Mess Havaldaar to set the table for two annd took a seat next to his friend. "Teji yaar, Sunday breakfast in a Mess is a necessity for us poor bachelors. Not married officers like you. Specially the blissfully newly married ones," Maan winked.
Teji groaned at his friend's ribbing and knew where this was heading.
"What happened? Did you guys have a fight? She threw you out, right?"
"Kya yaar, mujhse kya sharmana? Bata de?"
"Maan yaar, nothing like that. Pammi has gone out to shopping with Mrs. Rathore. I was just a little upset at her sudden plans. Ghar baithne ka dil nahi kiya, so came here."
Maan laughed out at his friend's plight. "I know why you are here. You became upset, had an argument with her and she refused to make you breakfast." He took a steadying breath, "You married couples are really weird. When you are together you fight, when you are away, you miss each other. This is why I stay away from marriage. It would make anyone go mad," he gave a nonchalant smirk. "Anyways I already knew about it. I met her on my way here while she was heading to Col. Rathore's residence. Gusse mein breakfast nahi banaya but was still worried about you. So she had asked me to get you here. It was to be my first task to call you up once I reached here."
"You knew?" Teji asked incredulously. "Ofcourse you knew. She has much more faith in you than me. Saale!!" Teji let out a retort. The word saala though said in jest was true in the sense that Pammi considered Maan her rakhi-brother. And why shouldn't she. If today his Pammi was Mrs Anupama Dhillon, it was all due to Maan. Had Maan not stood by him and played the active role that he did in getting them married, he would have lost her forever.
Teji looked at his friend laughing and smiling in abandon and could not help but feel proud to be his friend. Not everyone knew Maan like this. The warmth of his heart. The honesty of his soul. Being his buddy throughout their academy days and then having the good fortune of being commisioned in the same Regiment, made Teji privvy to his hidden self. The inner Maan. But for everyone else he was simply the tough and silent Capt. Maan Singh Khurana.
They were interupted by a Havaldaar who came upto Maan. "Jai hind sa'ab. The breakfast is ready to be served. And sa'ab this came from your office. Jai Hind sa'ab." He handed Maan a letter and left.
"Bloody Indian Postal Services!"
"What happened? All well?"
"Haan," Maan muttered, "Darjee's letter. He is coming here to visit me. No clue why. And the mail has reached late. He will be reaching today afternoon itself."
"That is good news. Its been a while since I met Darjee." Teji spoke as they headed towards to Dinin Hall.
I hope it is, Maan pondered.
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"Darjee, you came all the way here just for this."
"Maan, I did have some business to attend to in Saharanpur, so took upon this opportunity to come and speak to you."
Maan took in a deep breathe. As soon as Darjee had reached here, he had let Maan know of the reason of his visit. He was not amazed at his mother's demand though. What was surprising, was that his father gave in to it.
"It was not her wish alone," Ajaipal broke into Maan's silence making a correct guess at his thoughts. Amongst all his kids, it was Nayantara and Maan of whom he could always be sure of. Not because he was a proactive father. But somehow these two had always understood him without any efforts on his part. And their diligent love and adoration prompted him to be a better father towards them. Rest all were mere stooges of his wife. They were more inclined to her and her indulgent ways. His principles were too hard for them to submit to.
Maan was too much like him in that regard. His lack of ease in living his life by a certain moral standard made him as aloof and distant as Ajaipal himslef was. Therefore, Ajaipal had been lenient when Savitri started insisting on his getting married as soon as he got commissioned. He did not want Maan to make the mistake of marrying just for the sake of society norms as he did. But marriage was a truth of life. No one can live in isolation. He only hoped a Maan is lucky in his marriage and finds a partner in true sense of the word.
"Puttar, you would have to get married eventually and I am not insisting you get married right away. Get engaged atleast. Consider this a father's wish. I would want to see my grandchildren before I depart from this world. Children who will take my name in affection even after I am not around."
Maan sat startled at his father's relevation. Darjee wants this too! Does it mean so much to him?
"You are my eldest son. It would be a matter of gratification for me to see you married and having a family of your own. Meri zindagi de dinn vadd jaange." [The days of Life shall increase.]
"Darjee, you need not say all this. Tussi kehta, main karta.[Now that you have said it, consider it done by me.] Whenever you say, with whom-so-ever you say, I shall be ready."
"Your mother will be very happy, puttar." Maan cringed at the mention of his mother. "Don't worry I have asked her to refrain from involving you in the whole process more than that would be necessary."
Maan eased the frown on his forehead at his father's reassurance.
Chaudhary Ajaipal Singh Khurana stayed the night with his son before leaving early morning next day. Though he went back a man reassured, he left behind his son in a jumble of thoughts.
Not that he believed he could have escaped marriage, but he did not feel prepared to delve into the responsibilities that it would entail. In order to escape the narrow confines of his world, he had separated himself from society in an extreme manner. Even in this living of his own choosing, he was merely an amicable stranger. He understood it, but was at odds as how to interact in the same manner. He had made himself into many things, but a social being was not in the list. How could he impose a man like himself on a girl who would have a world of expectations from him?
But to refuse his parents was never in him. He could never disobey his father. He could dodge his mother, but gave in to her one way or other. And he was ready to accept whatever fate had in store for him.
Probably a dull and insipid girl who would become the perfect meek and obedient bahu for his mother. And ofcourse she would be the daughter of a narrow-minded rich landlord from some village. He groaned imagining what his life may soon become.
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(Handa Haveli...)
"Elvis!! Hayye...dreamy!!" Meera looked over the record cover that her friend Pari was holding as she was checking out their collection.
"ABBA, Boney M, Bee Gees, Eruption, Elton John, Neil Sedaka, Beatles, Stevie Wonder, Billy Joel, Queen, Gloria Gaynor..." Pari prattled off the record labels, "Wow Meera you guys have such a nice collection of English songs. My mother does not even let me listen to them onb the radio. I only have one English LP," she pouted, "Beatles, and only because it has the lyrics written on the cover, which my mother approved but still insists I keep it hidden in my room, away from my father eyes."
Meera giggled at Pari's complaints. Every evening the girls got together, sang, danced and had fun. Pari was Meera's friend from college, both girls being in the same batch of B.A. 2nd year. And the only other girl Sameera, Meera and Geet. True that all the girls from their colony got together everyone evening, but Pari was the only one they considered a proper friend.
"Papaji always brings these for us whenever we ask for them," Meera shrugged back smilingly.
"You guys are so lucky yaar. You get to wear latest denim jeans and skivvy tops too. I am only allowed bell bottoms with blouses, that too not as often as I like"
"Hush both of you! Geet's performance is about to start." Sameera came in, setting the LP on the record player, dimming the lights and everybody took their seats. As the needle set its pace on the record player, Geet emerged from the shadows.
~One Way Ticket~
[YOUTUBE]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0qIOCuBwcTc&feature=related[/YOUTUBE]
With basic knowledge of line dance from the dance sheets that came along the LPs and the popular disco moves that Geet had seen on TV, she danced with complete abandon, singing along whatever words she knew and humming along wherever the accent was tough to follow. Hands thrown in the air, hips swaying, right step forward, shallow step to left, twirling with grace, a touch of right toe forward, a touch of left toe back, arms swinging right to left and then back to right, she danced in sync with the peppy beats. A twirl with flourish and she opened her eyes to an appreciative audience.
"Geet, you dance so beautifully!!" Pari exclaimed.
"Thank you Di, Sameera Di and Meera Di ne sikhaya." Geet gave her a bright smile.
"Hayye," Pari looked at all three of them, "your husbands are going to be so lucky."
Sameera grinned as Meera and Geet looked on confused. "Why?" Geet asked.
"Kyun? You will dance for him na...who bhi English wala...he will be so impressed," Pari said between giggles.
"No."
"No?"
"Why?"
"Because it will be a romantic thing to do."
"Then he should dance for me too."
"And what if he does not know how to dance?" Pari questioned.
"Phir woh khotta* hai," Geet replied a determined nod, causing Sameera and Pari to double over with laughter.
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*Kothari - a small godown*Batman - The jawaan/soldier provided as helper to an Officer.
*Mess - Place where Officers can dine or get togther in evening for drinks or recreation.
*Khotta - means donkey in Punjabi.
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Ishaani
Cricket
193