The Blue River

I first saw subhi, a friend who lived next door in a yellow smallholding, in the wet woods of the jungle, near the blue river. Curiously enough, she had a small child in her lap and an old woman scudding behind her. She was hurt at a place, perhaps two, down her thigh, vehemently unconquerable and she advanced without stopping; trying to escape death, that ensued them in the form of slaughterers with swords, who had coldly murdered the members of her family. 

That evening I remember, I ran away climbing the mountain and shirking the plains, running through the jungle, creeping all the grass and the pit, and the manures and sick with terror, I had very little sleep the whole night but never thought I that she would come up to our village, on the steep mountain to live next to our small home.

She was from the neighboring town and she belonged to the shahi (royal) family of the Babus, who owned a thousand acres of land and they were known for their pride and benevolence, for their extravagance and donations. Also, on grand occasions, they used to gift lakhs of rupees and jewelry to the beggars or the poor. 

But those were the days before the communal massacre. A year before subhi was born, her father had won a huge area of land in gambling, and then decades anon, the Pillai Talukdars (landlords) from the neighbouring towns, who had lost their lands in the gamble long ago, captured the whole land which the Babus administered i.e. those won in the Gamble and those which belonged to the Babus and their ancestors, thus resulting in irregular massacres; often killing the innocent villagers, for the Babus would die but wouldn’t recede. The Babus and their long living relatives were constantly looted, robbed and murdered. It was only then that subhi was sent to pursue her education, and, then subhi returned, years anon, having completed her graduation from the Benares Hindu University. Only a week later, the Talukdar’s robbers were back and killed everybody. Subhi somehow had managed to escape, with a one year child and her grandma.

She had, of course, no choice and she had been here, next to our house since then. I perceived that her grandma died unable to face the faded glory of her family, leaving behind the only child of Subhi’s elder sister before subhi. Now she lived in a small farm, which was once built as a picnic-rest for Subhi; with a guitar, some books, an old diary and the love of her life – the child of her giji.

I found with surprise that the two years old child learned to call her “Mum” and subhi in return addressed her by calling “Abhaya (meaning fearless)” and so on and so forth, she had a world of her own. I would often see her on the terrace with a guitar, singing a song before the child. She would stare at the bamboo trees and, at the shore, by the end of the blue river, where her house occupied by the Talukdars lay. Next, She would hear the song of the wind and notice the sound of the rain falling swiftly on the sand. She would sing songs in English. To speak the truth, I wouldn’t understand but hear her sing and watch her smile. The blue river was her favorite place.

 “I shall get you your identity”

 she would say to the child, may be aware, or just may not be aware of the fact that the child was small enough to understand “we shall pacify the straying souls of our forefathers by getting revenge from the Pillai-landlords and it is my responsibility; thereafter I will get a school of design built for you”. The child, though unable to understand would smile.

One such evening, I summoned all my courage to speak “the Phillai Landlords are very powerful’ to which she replied in riposte ‘that doesn’t matter and I want to strangle them to death,’ folding the old thick diary she said, while the child played with the sand. Her face beamed with a strong determination and her dense brown eyes reflected a cannonade.

Hours passed and the focus of our conversation, meanwhile, had reached aloof to her past, and, with every day passing, I got to know something more of her; in due course, we ended up being good friends, despite a huge difference in our age. ‘What’s your age?’ she completed her sentence with a smirk, which stretched the reason why she looked so pretty.

‘Fifteen’

Next evening when I met her, she offered me playing game on her computer, which was the first time I had touched a computer; and as I touched the strings of the guitar, I knew that I would be the most versatile guitar player of the world and I vexed her till the time she had said ‘I promise, I shall teach you how to play guitar’.

From that day on, I would see her every day; in the morning and in the evening and during that period, I learned that she had a sharp propensity towards design, and also, it was a medium of income for her.

‘Come I shall show you some designs’ said subhi mounting up on the wooden stair that went up on the second floor where I saw designs of all colours, designs forming circles, designs forming humans, inhumane, the blue ones, the black ones, the golden coloured ones, ovals with circles, circles within circles, and snakes sprouting into human brains, some comprehensible while some incomprehensible.  

Now sometimes, at night she feeds me and then I slept, and when I woke, subhi had made few more designs. ‘I want to earn much so that I may hire a lawyer’ Subhi used to say. And six months later, she had some wealth made, and, hiring a lawyer she appealed in the court, challenging the pillai Talukdars; to get them inflicted and to get back the property that the Talukdars had acquired.

One day, however, I ought to have examined that subhi was left with no money and she had sold her jewelry to arrange some money. I learned that she gave away all her money to the lawyer who had promised her a ‘definite win’. Then another day, I noticed that the guitar was missing and to my inquisitiveness, by the end of the same month, the computer too was missing. Ah! Yes. She sold them all; One after another, for her child, for herself to stay alive and for the lawyer.

 “Subhi!” A man called her symbolically, standing from a distance behind her as she was about to enter the hut. Leaning against the small wooden gate he made some arguments which angered her. A moment anon, after a few more debates he followed her and soon I saw him shut the door.

 

 How strange, weird and unimaginary scenes I peeped, through the broken window. Never had I seen a girl dress-less, engaged in some indifferent play, with another young man, who must be her age. She banged against the bed and he repeated the same. All those games and tricks attempted by them fired my imagination, and I fled away, starved in that breath-taking twilight.

She was still too weak to tell me what she was going through, and I used to fancy if subhi had her meal the respective day or not. To prevent her endure any outgo, I would bring her something to eat and say ‘subhi, this evening I made it on my own; see if I can cook well or not’ ; and then the next day, I would say ‘this food is from fist sharecropped of my new land’; Thus I approached with new excuses every day. She had it and says it was great.  

‘I fancy,’ she would say ‘if you are free tomorrow evening, I shall make some special dishes for you’ but the next evening, I was absent. There could be no question that she didn’t have enough money to buy her child a bottle of milk. Now Abhaya had recognized me well and she liked my company. She called me ‘dayal’, unable to recite my whole name ‘Hardayal’. 

Meanwhile, vacations had finished and I had to attend my school after the dawn and the tuition, before the dusk; and in peregrination of this wheel, I spent less time with subhi. When my intermediate exam approached, the tuition master ordered ‘stay here with your comrades till your exam lasts.’ and thus, I couldn’t make a visit to Subhi and her child for a week.

On the second last day of my exam, the lady came along my way ‘Hardyal Babu . . . here,’ which hastily clarified her view towards me now. She looked different and her face changed that day. She addressed me by calling the same which other people in my community called me. ‘Can you fetch me some food? My child. .’ she said and gasped ‘no matter how hard I tried, I could get no food and my baby is hungry in that house’ pointing towards her home, she gnawed. ‘Please help! Babu! If you wish, you can sleep with me’. Her words sharp enough to cleave my heart and her words resounded within my skull. I couldn’t face her and I gave her all that I had.

I underwent all this very deep in fact.

But one night, unfortunately, a gust of air from the chimney flew to her yellow shelter such that, the fire rose to the skies, and burnt the nearby bamboo bushes. I heard from her that it wasn’t the fire from the chimney but the pillai Talukdars did so in revenge. ‘Also, they beheaded the lawyer who agreed to take her case.’ the villagers Said.

Her child vanished; and her eyes red from weeping, ‘My baby’s gone! Save, somebody,’ she cried bitterly and wholeheartedly till she could. Then her throat allowed no voice to come out. Alas! None came but me. I wondered if the baby was there, alive. But no, I had no guts to face it all and I joined her, only to give a few pats of sympathy. She left with sad tears shed in the emptiness of the night, with the unfading memory of her child.

Next morning, I woke up with high fever which grew day by day. Subhi, who had been living with us then, suggested my ammi to shift me to a hospital at the central- town and when I returned, a week later, I managed to get a guitar purchased for Subhi; but in vain did I purchase. Subhi had gone somewhere. I waited for her; weeks and months passed, but, that was the last I subhi for a long time.

Some said that they had seen her in a brothel in the town, some said that she had gone mad and had been seen straying on the roads randomly; while some said that she died unable to face the reality of the world.