Land of Five Rivers Read Free Page A

she thought of little besides her home in Chamba. She went about her daily chores — fed the cattle, cooked food for her husband’s parents and then sat back to work out how long it would be before someone would come for her from her parents’ village.
    And now, once again, it was time for her annual visit. She caressed the mare joyfully, greeted her father’s servant, Natu, and made ready to leave next day.
    Guleri did not have to put her excitement into words: the expression on her face was enough. Her husband, Manak, pulled at his
hookah
and closed his eyes. It seemed either as if he did not like the tobacco, or that he could not bear to face his wife.
    â€˜You will come to the fair at Chamba, won’t you?’ ‘Come even if it is only for the day,’ she pleaded.
    Manak put aside his
chillum
but did not reply.
    â€˜Why don’t you answer me?’ asked Guleri in little temper. ‘Shall I tell you something?’
    â€˜I know what you are going to say: “I only go to my parents once in the year!” Well, you have never been stopped before.’
    â€˜Then why do you want to stop me this time?’ she demanded.
    â€˜Just this time,’ pleaded Manak.
    â€˜Your mother has not said anything. Why do you stand in my way?’ Guleri was childishly stubborn.
    â€˜My mother...’ Manak did not finish his sentence.
    On the long awaited morning, Guleri was ready long before dawn. She had no children and therefore no problem of either having to leave them with her husband’s parents or taking them with her. Natu saddled the mare as she took leave of Manak’s parents. They patted her head and blessed her.
    â€˜I will come with you for a part of the way,’ said Manak.
    Guleri was happy as they set out. Under her
duppatta
she hid Manak’s flute.
    After the village of Khajiar, the road descended steeply to Chamba. There Guleri took out the flute from beneath her
duppatta
and gave it to Manak. She took Manak’s hand in hers and said, ‘Come now, play your flute!’ But Manak, lost in his thoughts paid no heed. ‘Why don’t you play your flute?’ asked Guleri, coaxingly. Manak looked at her sadly. Then, putting the flute to his lips, he blew a strange anguished wail of sound.
    â€˜Guleri, do not go away,’ he begged her. ‘I ask you again, do not go this time.’ He handed her back the flute, unable to continue.
    â€˜But why?’ she asked. ‘You come over on the day of the fair and we will return together. I promise you, I will not stay behind.’
    Manak did not ask again.
    They stopped by the roadside. Natu took the mare a few paces ahead to leave the couple alone. It crossed Manak’s mind that it was this time of the year, seven years ago, that he and his friends had come on this very road to go to the harvest festival in Chamba. And it was at this fair that Manak had first seen Guleri and they had bartered their hearts to each other. Later, managing to meet alone, Manak remembered taking her hand and telling her, ‘you are like unripe corn — full of milk.’
    â€˜Cattle go for unripe corn,’ Guleri had replied, freeing her hand with a jerk. ‘Human beings like it better roasted. If you want me, go and ask for my hand from my father.’
    Amongst Manak’s kinsmen it was customary to settle the bride-price before the wedding. Manak was nervous because he did not know the price Guleri’s father would demand from him. But Guleri’s father was prosperous and had lived in cities. He had sworn that he would not take money for his daughter, but would give her to a worthy young man of a good family. Manak, he had decided, answered these requirements and very soon after, Guleri and Manak were married. Deep in memories, Manak was roused by Guleri’s hand on his shoulder.
    â€˜What are you dreaming of ?’ she teased him.
    Manak did not answer. The mare neighed impatiently