Neelam opened her eyes; she was still wrapped around in Jeet's arms. She looked up; he was in deep slumber. His face depicted extreme contentment and relaxation. Although now nearly fifty, he had told her; this was the first time in his life.And, in spite of her son’s baby boy one year old and her daughter expecting her first child in about six months, she felt if as she had just, today, lost her chastity.
**********

They were next-door neighbours. Although, there was a single brick partition wall in between the two houses, there was a door in it, which always remained unlocked. They were born nearly during the same month and year. First five years they always played together. Realization of the genders surfaced when they were put in separate schools. They reached the grade twelve and continued with the exchange of their thought and notes. He topped the class in his school and she passed her exam in the first division. They were very happy but soon their happiness started to wane. Jeet's parents wanted him to undertake some job to augment his ailing father's income, and, for Neelam, there was no need of further studies; it was the time for her to learn cooking and take up other household responsibilities, especially when her mother was suffering with acute diabetes. Both cried and approached the principal of the Oriental College in the same locality. Not only a neighbour, he was very close associate of both the families. He convinced the parents that both could continue their studies in the evening classes, and it would not hinder any plans that the parents might have made for their lives.

Neelam's father readily agreed but her mother displayed reluctance. The Oriental College was adjoining the Gurdwara Singh Sabha Sikh Temple. She used to go there regularly in the morning and in the evening, and sometimes in the afternoon to hear Katha, the religious discourses. Many a times she passed by when the classes were being held there; she felt uncomfortable, seeing the boys and the girls sitting together; talking and interacting.

`No,' She declared, `I don't like the way the boys and the girls sit there intermingling freely.'

But the father convinced her, pacifying her doubt, "Don't worry, Jeet will be there all the time to look after Neelam," and the principal augmented the case, too.

Fictions of the novelists like Nanak Singh and Kartar Singh Duggal, and exotic poetry of Mohan Singh and Amrita Preetam fascinated them. Their romantic and glamorous contents invigorated their sensual consciousness. Constant look at each other’s faces, now, gave them pulsating feelings in their spines. Whether they sat on the chairs placed quite apart or adjoining never bothered them before but, now, they always tried to occupy a dual-desk; they felt soothing sensation through the contact of their bodies. The adolescence passed by quickly. The teen-age aroma was nearly at its tethers. Their brotherly and sisterly relationship, as their parents had been pronouncing proudly, had, now, transmuted into mutual feeling of love. They started to reflect upon the Nuptial aspect of their future life, and Neelam was much more progressive in this accord.

Their final exam was just a month away. It was late in the afternoon. Every body had gone out of the room. Both were sitting on a dual-desk. Fingers entangling, their hands were lying on the table. Neelam’s head was resting on the Jeet’s shoulder. Flying in the celestial heights, both had their eyes shut.

“Berra gark, what the hell is happening here?” Neelam’s mother, who had inadvertently popped in while coming out of the payer hall, blurted, “Is this the education you are imparted here? You, charrail, the witch, get out and go home. I will see the principal, that big talker of morality.”

After indulging in prolonged interaction and eruptions, the mother was exhausted and house felt a sigh of serenity. The father took the daughter in his arms, led her to the hallway and asked what was really in her mind.

“Nothing Daddy, we just like each other.”

“But your mother says you were….”

“We were just sitting and relaxing…”

“Like brother and sister…”

“No, Daddy, we are not little children any more. We are grown ups. We like each other. We, we plan to get married in due course.”

“Beti, you don’t know what you are talking about. It is not a children’s play. I never thought you will think and talk like that. Life is not as simple as those books teach you.”

“But Dad…”

“Good thing your mother is not listening, otherwise she would commit murder, perhaps suicide.”

“I don’t understand, Dad.”

“My dear you have been destined to marry some one else. We had solemnised your engagement with the son of your mother’s cousin when you both were about five years old. They now live in Africa. We already have a few letters from them but we did not want to talk to you till your exams were over.”

“Dad, are you sure what you are talking about?”

They heard a big thumping noise. They rushed in. The mother had fallen on the ground. The father immediately put some sugar in her mouth and asked Neelam to get the doctor.

Doctor pronounced her to be in a precarious condition and advised that under no circumstances she should be made to feel distressed.

When Jeet learnt all about what had transpired, he came and told, “Neelam, I always thought our relationship would be overwhelmingly accepted. Rather than getting into such a situation, there would be grand jubilations. Had I got even a hint earlier about your engagement, I would have most certainly sided with Auntie. I will never ever hurt the feelings of your mother. Perhaps you don’t know if it were not your Nana and Nani, my grandparents would have spent their whole life in the refugee camps; they had nothing left when they were chucked out of their homes at the time of the creation of Pakistan. It was all your grandfather’s benevolence that enabled my father to go to the college and get a good job. This house, in which we live and own now, is all through the efforts of your family. Please, please, just forget what we talked and planned, just listen to your mother.” With an aching heart he walked out.

She felt like a Pipal tree, standing solid and erect, supporting ropes around its neck and letting the swings to oscillate other young hearts*. She shut herself in her room. When her father came, she put her head on his chest and could not help the incessant shower of the tears.

“Please, Dad, please forgive me. I have been naïve. Please forgive me.”

“I understand, Beti. I had a hearty talk with Jeet and, also, I have told your mother that it was just an amateurish misunderstanding. She is feeling much better now. You go and talk to her.”

And everything emerged as if nothing had happened.  The Principal had been a great help; it was, rather, a matter of honour for him to pacify the situation. He convinced them to prepare for the examination that was just a few weeks away.

The mother did not want to take any more chances. On her insistence, a cable was sent to Nairobi suggesting to hold the marriage immediately after the Neelam’s exam was over.

Jeet always tried to avoid coming across Neelam but on the last day of exam, she waited outside the hall and caught him from slipping away.

“Jeet, I fully understand the burden of obligations upon your shoulders. Soon I will be a married woman. Physically, I will be gone far away from you. Bodily, I am the property of my parents; they reared it and they have the right to command it the way they like, but my soul is a heavenly gift to me. I endow this gift to you and, please, look after….” Tears rolled down and did not let her finish the sentence. She covered her eyes and walked away.

After the marriage ceremony her in-laws went back to Africa. Her husband, Harnam, took her on a touring honeymoon. For about two months they travelled from Kashmir in the North to Kanyea Kumari in the south and from the Sikh Holy City of Amritsar in the west to Patna in the east, the birthplace of the Tenth Guru of their religion. The day they were flying to Nairobi, except her mother, almost all the members of both the families, including the Principal, came to the Airport; mother’s health was too feeble to take the strain of travelling by car.

When Jeet found a few lonely moments with her, he said, “I see, he seems to be very nice person. God bless, I hope you will have a contended life with him,”

“Yes, he is very considerate person. During our travels, while going to the restaurants, attending the cabarets, participating in the dances or the sightseeing trips, I have, whole-heartedly, cooperated. No doubt he is a very caring man, but, I am sorry Jeet, I cannot give him anything but my body. I cannot help, he always complains, as soon as the night falls, I become like the Pipal wood, solid and erect. How long would I last like that…? Please, please God, help me…. Perhaps, may be… And, and Mom? Jeet, I am really scared … Please do look after her…”

“She is not just your mother…. Please don’t worry.”

And she turned around to say goodbye to the other people. Lastly, with tears pouring down, she hugged her father and followed Harnam towards the security gate.

Hardly three months were over when she got the news of her mother’s death. She immediately flew back to India alone; her husband could not get out of his business. It was Jeet who came to receive her from the airport; her father was too depressed.

“Jeet,” she broke the silence, “I am sorry for Mom but I was prepared for the news as the Doctor had warned me frankly before I left for Africa…. Jeet, I want to tell you truthfully what I had envisaged before I departed last time. I had determined not to go back once I came to attend the memorial Bhog service. I believed, I was destined for you but, now, God’s ways are mysterious. I cannot leave Harnam, I must return after the service. Jeet, I am pregnant, I must go back for the sake of my coming child. Please forgive me. I must ask you now to get some good girl and get married.”

It was too much for Jeet to digest in one go. He just kept quiet and the taxi dropped them at their destination.

After four weeks, when she was going back, Jeet came to see her off at the airport. Just before she was to walk into the security gate, she said, “Jeet, please do remember what I told you on my arrival. Please, please do find some nice match for you and…”

“Yes, I already have one.”

“Have you? I am glad to hear this. Who is it?”

“It is the gift you gave me just before your marriage.” She was taken aback. Without giving her chance to respond, he turned around and went out of the Airport Gate.

Her father was constantly in touch with her through letters and, sometimes, via telephone. She wrote to Jeet, as well, but received no reply except a card of best wishes at the birth of her son. However, her father wrote that Jeet was very busy in his studies along with working during the day.  He had earned his first degree in Mathematics and was now waiting for his admission to a teachers training college. After about four years when the father came to Nairobi and stayed there for four months, he told that Jeet was now working as a teacher in a high school but he was vigorously toiling to go to Canada. Her father was still in Nairobi when she gave birth to a daughter. When Jeet learned about this from her father he sent her a card again and, in one corner, mentioned that he was leaving for Canada in about three months.

The independence had brought the consciousness of Africanisation in all atmospheres of life in Kenya. Most of the Asians, who were effective tools in the hands of the ruling foreign elite, felt scared and uncomfortable under native rule. They started to establish their households and businesses in England and other Western countries. Harnam’s father had set up an office in London a long time ago. Now, considering the education of his children, Harnam decided to move there. Within a year they were fully settled in Wimbledon, an affluent suburb of London. It was mainly domiciled by prosperous white gentry. She felt lonely and lost in the beginning but the discovery of the house of Nina and Sandeep in the next road brought charm to her life. Nina had her own car and, after leaving their children in the school, she would take her for shopping to Oxford Street. Occasionally they made trips to Southall and Wembley, known as little India.

Neelam was constantly in touch with her father; he was now connected through his own telephone. He asked her many times to come to India, as he could not travel due to poor health. He yearned to see his grandchildren. When she got a message that Jeet was coming from Canada for a couple of weeks at Christmas, she immediately got the air tickets and flew to India. Her son was now 12 and daughter 10.

“I am getting too weak,” her father had told her one day, “Who would look after the house if I am gone?”

“Don’t worry Dad, Nothing is going to happen to you. To make you happy, I will do what Jeet has done,” and she signed a power of attorney in the name of Jeet’s younger brother and stressed him to look after Dad, the house and the little farming land

Although she wished she could stay there with Jeet forever, but it was not possible. Jeet flew back four days after the New Year Day and she decided to leave the same day as well.

Immediately on her return, Nina came to her house. “I am sorry to tell you that your husband is having an affair. All these days, a white woman stayed in the house. Our servant Chotu came a few times and learnt from your cleaning-lady that they were having hanky-panky relationship.”

“You mean Mandy was here?”

“What? You know her…”

“Yes, she is his faithful secretary. She is with him since from Kenya, even before we got married, but at that time she was just a secretary. Now he has bought a flat for her in West End, adjoining his office.”

“And you don’t mind?”

“I couldn’t careless. I am happy with my life, especially with the children. I have everything materially a person needs. I don’t think I can have better life if Mandy does not exist.”

“Well, if you are happy and satisfied, it is none of my business.”

Her father died in three years and another two years brought the demise of Jeet’s father. On his return from India after the cremation, Jeet broke his journey at London and stayed with her family for about a week; he wanted her to sign a few legal papers for her property. Harnam met him for the first time since the marriage. He knew him as a very close neighbourly brother, who had been extremely helpful at the wedding. Harnam, even, missed his office and the family took him on a sightseeing tour of London.

On the day of his departure to Canada, Neelam brought him to Heathrow Airport. As they were delayed in the traffic, they had very little time to exchange thought. Just before he was going in to the Security Gate, he said, “Neelu, I am glad, you are having a happy life.”

“How about you?”

“Yes, very happy with… with… my business.”

“Just business?”

He lifted his arm, placed it on her shoulder and leaned forward.

She closed her eyes and put her fingers on her lips.

He gave a gentle kiss on her forehead.

By the time she moved her hand down and opened her wet eyes, he had turned and walked into the gate, without looking back.

And the Pipal tree started to rekindle and for the next ten years it kept on contemplating to regenerate itself. Her son was now a Pharmacist, married with one child, and was living in USA. Her daughter had just got married and left for Bahamas on a honeymoon; there after she was moving to Germany with her Doctor husband.

And Mandy was still there, living next door to her husband’s office.

In spite of being branded as an arid Pipal wood, she thought, she had produced two lush green and sturdy branches. She had reared them and flourished them, herself continually baking in the sun. Now when they are going to bear their own flora, why should the Pipal still keep the rope around its neck for their swings? … Why should she spend rest of her life just sweeping the leaves, and keep on maintaining the garden and … and Harnam and Mandy revelling happily ever after?

No, no, no.

The Pipal wood was blazing here, and, there, the Maple Tree was shivering and quivering in cold, it pricked her thought.

The time had come, savoury or unsavoury, she must let slip the truth, she determined resolutely.

It was Christmas. On her request both the children, along with their families, had come to celebrate the day. On the Christmas Eve she took Harnam and Mandy on an exclusive dinner. They spent more than three hours in the expensive Café Royal. Being in such a place they had to keep their tones suppressed. Mandy acted as the pacifying agent. When they left the place, whereas Harnam was feeling a bit remorseful, Mandy’s face depicted contentment.

Both her children knew why they had gone out on an exclusive dinner; Neelam had written them very long letters explaining the predicament she had been through since her marriage. As they were fully settled in their own lives, she had entirely paid back the debt to the society, the society that had reared her in the world. Why couldn’t she be free now? They completely sympathised with her. They were married and they comprehended their father 's trauma, too. They assured whole-hearted cooperation and love to both, now and in the future.

A seat in Air Canada was already in waiting. The searing wood slipped into the flying wind and soon, the Pipal and the Maple wrapped each other and bloomed.

The End
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*During the Indian Calendar Month of Sawan (July/August) a festival of Tiyan is held all over Punjab in the North of India. Mainly the young ladies participate in the gala and the celebrations. They gather around in the green pasture outside the village and oscillate on the swings, which are erected by tying the long ropes on the branches of, mainly, the Pipal trees.

bindra@rogers.com