The Redemption

 The glowing morning sky welcomed its partner for the day, the magnificent sun. The gentle rays kissed the misty sky, waking it from the lazy slumber of night. A flock of black birds hurried past the lovely scene, sprinkling a dash of grey to the fawning sky. Their fluttering wings, entering and emerging from the foamy, cotton-ball like clouds. Jeevika, too, shuffled in her tattered razai. She covered her face to avoid being enveloped by the warm, yellow rays.

"Jeevi, beta it's 7pm. Dadu, has to go to find work."

"Daduuuu, little more."

Smiling at Jeevika's request, Bhanu went out to sweep the courtyard. A thatched hut surrounding by a parched courtyard was not much of a work to be done. Bhanu collected the dry twigs and leaves in a cane basket which he would later hand to the farm owner on whose land he would till, till for next 3 months. It was the end of summers and soon every landlord would employ dozens of helping hands to reap the benefits of their hardwork. 

Durandarpur, in Uttar Pradesh would then see a flurry of activity, as the villagers who had left for greener pastures would come back to grow green grass on their own land. Bhanu, too, who was jobless for last three months would find an income, and there would daily roti on his grotesque thali. For last three months, he had kept the hearth warm by doing odd jobs like plumbing, carpentry, masonry and running errands for the landlord's wife. Now his trembling hands would find a steady income. 

"Jeevi, now Dadu is leaving. Eat the rice gruel and also feed your Rani."

Meinnnn...Rani echoed Bhanu's feelings as she munched on last night's leftovers scattered on the ground. Rani, the herbivore and Jeevika, the adolescent, were like peas in a pod. They ate together, frolicked under the sun together, went on excursions through the village with happy, dancing feet. 

As Bhanu left, Jeevika rose from her hard yet comfortable bedding to manage the household of two. Like an efficient director, she would go about setting time for her every task. 15mins to fill water from the well. 10 mins to feed Rani and discuss with her the day's plan. 30mins to cook the day's meal. 30mins to buy essentials if Dadu had left some cash in his aluminum trunk. After all this meticulously performed task, leave for the nearby grampanchayat school.

Bhanu was proud of his granddaughter. Whatever circumstances she had grown in had never deterred her from becoming, what she was destined to. It runs in the family, he often thought to himself. Every night as he told Jeevika stories of management by Chanakya and Ashoka, she wondered where had her Dadu learned all this. 

"My mother was a great storyteller." He would answer her doubt.

"And how did your mother know?"

"Her mother told her."

Thus, he would begin a cascade of lies which would put the tired girl to sleep. Then, slowly he would pull out an envelope, and read through a yellow tinged paper. Sometimes, Jeevika would be awake, and see her Dadu weep silently while reading the contents of the envelope. She, who was now growing up to support and understand her Dadu, probed and urged him to show the envelope but he would quickly hide the paper. 

"Promise me Jeevi, you will never search or rummage through my trunk except the money pouch where I will keep cash for your bread"

"But Dadu.."

"No means no Jeevi. There will be a time when I will rightfully hand over to you what belongs to you. Till then, you and your Rani enjoy your life."

Dadu's words were like commandments which Jeevi would never break. Life trudged on, and both grew to be old, one old enough to manage life on her own and other leading life under the direction of other. Jeevika had by now completed her school, and would help the woman folk with threshing and windowing of grains. Rani, now had a litter which littered the courtyard much to Bhanu's dismay. Yet, she was Jeevika's true confidante and collaborator. Her droppings made manure for a small vegetable garden that the efficient girl had grown in the parched courtyard. Rani would firmly guard the garden, and not allow any of her progeny to nibble the succulent palak or colocasia leaves. 

Post the grainy activities of the field, Jeevika would collect the women folk and motivate them to learn reading and writing. She would encourage the women to rise above their daily chores to make time for some vegetable gardening in their little, squared courtyards. Life was an exciting startup for Jeevika where each day came with its problems, and she dug out solutions with her sickle-like mind. 

"Dadu, it's 9pm. How long will you sleep? Jeevi has to go to the farms."

Cycles reversed, Jeevika tried to coax a fragile Bhanu to get up and eat some rice gruel with potato sabji. Jeevika had brought a meal to the grotesque thali. 

"Dadu, you are.."  She touched his wrinkled, bald head to find it blazing hot. For past few months, Bhanu was suffering from bouts of cold and cough and he avoided doctors considering it to be a case of aging lungs. But now that Jeevika had caught him hot-handed, there was no escape.

She rushed him to a government hospital and got him admitted.

"It's a case of neglected tuberculosis. Time and money both are needed for recovery." The doctor made his verdict. Jeevika sat helplessly by Bhanu's rickety bed. She sobbed in her cupped palms when Bhanu's shivering palms touched her trembling hands. 

"Jeevi, go home and get that envelope from my trunk. Yes, that prohibited envelope."

"Dadu, you get well then we will read the envelope together. Not now." Jeevika composed herself. 

"No Jeevi. Do as I say." The old man had an aura of being authorative even in difficult times. 

Jeevika came back with the envelope which was now torn at places, yet its contents were intact. Jeevika carefully opened the yellow tinged paper and began reading.

THIS SERVES AS A TERMINATION NOTICE TO THE DIRECTOR OF BHANUSHALI TEXTILES FOR HAVING CHEATED THOUSANDS OF COTTON FARMERS. MANY OF WHOM HAVE COMMITTED SUICIDE. DHANRAJ BHANUSHALI WILL REPORT HIMSELF IN THE COURT OF LAW.

"Why have you asked me to read this, Dadu?" A flummoxed Jeevika inquired.

"Because you are the granddaughter of Dhanraj Bhanusali and now this Dhanraj Bhanushali lies on the death bed. He needs to let his Jeevi know that she is the heiress to an empire she was deprived of because her Dadu fled the flourishing city of Mumbai with a baby Jeevika in his arms. She was his incentive to continue life. His companion when he sought redemption in the village life, trying to pay for his misdeeds by living the life of a poor labourer. I know Jeevika will never forgive Dhanraj. But I also know Jeevi will always love her Dadu."

Jeevika, found it difficult to gather Bhanu's wavering speech. Life had suddenly become a mismanaged affair of anger, longing, disbelief and failures. Whom to blame? Whom to look forward to? Whom to hold responsible for? Her questions were directionless. 

Jeevika staggered back home leaving Bhanu in the care of the doctors. Rani pranced around her in the darkness. The sky was a spread of inky black sheet. The moon had not graced the scene, and the stars did little to help clear the darkness. The flocking birds sat silently on steady branches waiting for the yellow light to show them light. 

Jeevika, too, would wait for the night of confusion and uncertainty clear. Her roots were deeper than what she had always imagined to be. The director in her had to wait for the turbulence to settle before making any hasty decisions. 

For now, she spread her razai on the floor and lay down, chanting a slow prayer for her Dadu.