Land of Five Rivers Read Free Page B

and Guleri thinking of the journey ahead of her, arose to leave. ‘Do you know the bluebell wood a couple of miles from here?’ she asked, ‘It is said that anyone who goes through it becomes deaf.’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜It seems to me as if you had passed through the bluebell wood; you do not hear anything that I say.’
    â€˜You are right, Guleri. I cannot hear anything that you are saying to me,’ replied Manak with a deep sigh.
    Both of them looked at each other. Neither understood the other’s thoughts.
    â€˜I will go now. You had better return home. You have come a long way,’ said Guleri gently.
    â€˜You have walked all this distance. Better get on the mare,’ replied Manak.
    â€˜Here, take your flute.’
    â€˜You take it with you.’
    â€˜Will you come and play it on the day of the fair?’ asked Guleri with a smile. The sun shone in her eyes. Manak turned his face away. Guleri perplexed, shrugged her shoulders and took the road to Chamba. Manak returned to his home.
    Entering the house, he slumped listless, on his charpoy. ‘You have been away a long time,’ exclaimed his mother. ‘Did you go all the way to Chamba?’
    â€˜Not all the way; only to the top of the hill,’ Manak’s voice was heavy.
    â€˜Why do you croak like an old woman?’ asked his mother severely. ‘Be a man.’
    Manak wanted to retort, ‘You are a woman; why don’t you cry like one for a change!’ But he remained silent.
    Manak and Guleri had been married seven years, but she had never borne a child and Manak’s mother had made a secret resolve: ‘I will not let it go beyond the eighth year.’
    This year, true to her decision, she had paid Rs. 500 to get him a second wife and now she had waited, as Manak knew, for the time when Guleri went to her parents to bring in the new bride.
    Obedient to his mother and to custom, Manak’s body responded to the new woman. But his heart was dead within him.
    In the early hours of one morning he was smoking his
chillum
when an old friend happened to pass by. ‘Ho Bhavani, where are you going so early in the morning?’
    Bhavani stopped. He had a small bundle on his shoulder: ‘Nowhere in particular,’ he replied evasively.
    â€˜You must be on your way to some place or the other,’ exclaimed Manak. ‘What about a smoke?’
    Bhavani sat down on his haunches and took the
chillum
from Manak’s hands. ‘I am going to Chamba for the fair,’ he replied at last.
    Bhavani’s words pierced through Manak’s heart like a needle.
    â€˜Is the fair today?’
    â€˜It is the same day every year,’ replied Bhavani drily.
    â€˜Don’t you remember, we were in the same party seven years ago?’ Bhavani did not say any more but Manak was conscious of the other man’s rebuke and he felt uneasy. Bhavani put down the
chillum
and picked up his bundle. His flute was sticking out of the bundle. Bidding Manak farewell, he walked away. Manak’s eyes remained on the flute till Bhavani disappeared from view.
    Next afternoon when Manak was in his fields he saw Bhavani coming back but deliberately he looked the other way. He did not want to talk to Bhavani or hear anything about the fair. But Bhavani came round the other side and sat down in front of Manak. His face was sad, lightless as a cinder.
    â€˜Guleri is dead,’ said Bhavani in a flat voice.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜When she heard of your second marriage, she soaked her clothes in kerosene and set fire to them.’
    Manak, mute with pain, could only stare and feel his own life burning out.
    The days went by Manak resumed his work in the fields and ate his meals when they were given to him. But he was like a man dead, his face quite blank, his eyes empty.
    â€˜I am not his spouse,’ complained his second wife. ‘I am just someone he happened to marry.’
    But quite soon