MURMUR OF THE LONELY

BROOK

DEBASHIS DEY

Copyright © 2012 by Debashis Dey.

All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or
reproduced in any manner

whatsoever without the written

 permission of the author.
Published by: Salfas
ISBN: 978-0-9881700-1-8
Library of Congress Control No:

2012913706
Edited by Beth Bruno

First Edition
Printed in the United States of

America
 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This book could not have been written

without the insights provided by

Chintamoni, a tribal woman. Special and

sincere thanks go to Beth Bruno, who not

only edited the book but also provided

continuous guidance.
I must also thank my wife Kakoli and

daughter Tania, my publisher Salfas, and

my friends Aloke, Chayan, Nandini,
Sampa, and Madhumita for their ongoing

support and encouragement.

 AUTHOR’S NOTE

Rakcham is a remote Himalayan village

in Himachal, India, near the Tibet border.

The people here are tribal nomads known

as Kinnauri. The origin of the tribe can

be traced back thousands of years, as it is

mentioned in the Hindu epic
Mahabharata. This is a known fact; what

is unknown is that traditions and rituals

dating back to primitive times are still in
practice here. Although this book

portrays life in this remote village, the

storyline is purely fictional. The
characters and incidents portrayed and
the names used in the book are fictitious,
and any resemblance to the names,
characters, or history of any person is

coincidental and unintentional.

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 In Nature, things are broken with
a purpose—clouds break to pour rains,

rivers break to water fields, fields break

to yield crops, seeds break to yield

plants … so if ever you feel broken,

understand that you must be part of a
better and more beautiful purpose...
 Chapter 1

Diwakar was returning home from

Chandigarh after nearly a month away.

He walked steadily, confidently, as he

looked around at the familiar peaks

surrounding him. He was taking the old

Indo Tibet road, which had recently been
repaired by the border force. The road

from Sangla to his village of Rakcham

was barely fourteen kilometers but it
would be nearly an hour before he

reached it. He could have waited for the

local Jeeps that frequented this route, but
he preferred to walk.

He saw very few people up and

about so early in the morning. It was

late October, still monsoon season.

After a few minutes, Diwakar was out

of Sangla and walking uphill. A light

drizzle had made everything smell

fresh. He continued on, soaking up the

scent of the pine needles that rose

from the wet earth. Rounding a bend

opened up a totally new vista, a rain
soaked forest with pines, deodars, and
poplars. The raw smell of rocks and

greenery filled his senses; inside a

floating fog, the forest stood in a mist.
A few trees were visible, some smoky

and some just a shadow. Though they

looked similar, each pine tree had a

shape of its own. The sharp end of the

needles held on to drops of water and

looked like combs with beads as if

stuck on the head of a village belle,

while below, the grass blades tried

desperately to hold on to the dew,
sometimes in single and sometimes in
groups. Most of them bent down as if

expressing their silent gratitude for

the blessing they received.
Diwakar would have taken the

night bus, which took about twenty-

four hours to reach Rakcham, but the

service was erratic and most days the

buses were cancelled with some

excuse or another. From Chandigarh,

he traveled on a local Jeep huddled in

warm comfort on the back seat with

two old women, a sheep and two sacks
of onions. The local Jeeps were
lifelines and packed in as much as

possible.
That part of his journey was
good except for the sheep, which

occasionally tried to munch his pants,

and for the one lady who twisted

every now and then to scratch her

unreachable backside hidden below

layers of blankets and clothing.

Diwakar did not mind. After a stop for

tea at Rampur, by early morning the

Jeep reached Sangla, where everyone
got out. While others stretched to
ease their joints after the long

cramped journey, Diwakar wasted no

time and picked up his bag. He was
seventeen and thought of himself as a

Fauji (soldier,) though it might take

another exam and another year before

he could don the uniform.

The old lady had looked at him

affectionately and said, “My son, why

don’t you wait for the next Jeep? It has

been a long journey!”

Diwakar smiled and replied,
“It’s okay. I can walk the rest of the
way with ease.”

As he looked around and took

in his surroundings, he was thinking
about Nisha, who was his brother

Pravin’s wife. Nisha was the new

arrival in the family and Diwakar had

fallen in love with her the day she

came to the house.

“What will you bring back for

me?” Nisha had asked him when he

was leaving.
Diwakar had only smiled back
at her. He could not speak, as he felt
devastated at the thought of being

away from Nisha for so long. He had to

bring something to her; she would be
expecting it. He thought for a few

seconds and decided to pick up two

packets of Maggi from the village

shop. Nisha loved noodles, as they

offered a pleasant break from the

daily buckwheat pancakes. Diwakar

could imagine the smile on her face.

He felt proud of himself and for a

moment the stoicism that had settled
on him after failing the Army exam
lifted. He got back on the road and

started his walk with newfound

confidence.
Nisha was from Ribba, famous

for its fruits and anguri in particular, a

kind of liquor made from grapes. She

was tall with sharp features, with an

air of affection and dark black eyes

reflecting warmth and humor. Her

complexion was fair, and while her

rosy cheeks had a red tint, they

formed dimples every time she
smiled. Pravin had met her at Peo
where she was studying literature in

college. After two months of

courtship, which mainly involved
momo treats at the local restaurant

and listening to his various

achievements like trekking, fetching

wild flowers for Devta, the local deity,

bare hand trout fishing, and bear

chasing etc., Nisha had decided that

Pravin was the ideal man for her.

Nisha loved adventure,

although she was sure the rest of her
life would be spent in tending cattle,
feeding them, collecting their refuse,

tilling fields, removing weeds, cooking

and bearing children. She was also
sure that the movies, serials, and

soaps on TV depicted a world far

beyond her reach, much like the

fairytales that her Aaya (her

Grandma) had shared with her during

childhood. She had never traveled

beyond Peo, having spent her life

among hill people following traditions

and customs dating back thousands of
years.
 Her two years of study at Peo

had been different. She had read

books, magazines, and seen movies
about love and romance that enticed

her. She met girls who were lost in

love, and heard them discuss their

boyfriends and affairs. She tried to

understand romantic love; it was

something new to her. For the first

time she saw a window that held the

promise of a new vista, a new land

unknown to her.
Peo, short for Reckong Peo, the
district headquarters, was a quiet

town with a bustling market nestled

among hills. And the new things she
saw, listened to, and experienced left

her in a confused state. Pravin was the

first man she met there and one she

thought had access to the other side

of the window, one who would take

her to the promised land of happiness.

She was sure she had found true love

with him.
Diwakar looked at the deserted
road and the surrounding peaks. He
had left in the warmth of early

September and now there was a chill

in the air, announcing the approach of
winter. His village, Rakcham, was

squeezed between high peaks on

three sides, peaks covered with pines

standing in regimental dignity; age-

old granite peaks formed millions of

years ago; clean peaks that reflected

the sun and changing hues of each

passing day, only showing their cracks

and lines during winter when the sky
poured white on them. He saw brown
peaks with bhujpatra and a few

deodar and oaks, perpetually white

peaks emitting wispy clouds to kiss
the sky; and shady blue peaks—

shrouded in mystery—at a distance

beyond in Tibet.

West of the village, the land

ended abruptly as the road sloped

down toward civilization. Here, in one

single sweep, the sky tried to reach

the valley below through the deep

gorge. The Baspa River flowed down
with the sky, rich with trout hiding
below rocks at every bend. Diwakar

had often accompanied his older

brother Pravin on fishing adventures.
While his aaté (elder brother) had

developed skill in fishing with bare

hands in ice-cold water, Diwakar

barely managed to catch one or two.

Thoughtfully, Pravin never boasted

about his fishing prowess.

At age twenty-two, Pravin was

the eldest son of Shevak. He had a

good physique, wore a goatee, and
loved to keep his hair unkempt. He
had the most ordinary looks, was

short-tempered like his father, and

was totally unpredictable. Nobody
understood him. Unlike all other

Kinnauri youth of his age, he was

neither frustrated nor depressed but

was confused with the world and

desperate to break out of the

monotony of life among the hill

people. This desperation had caused

him trouble in his short life so far, but

after completing a diploma course
that taught electrician’s skills, he had
set a new target for himself. All he

dreamed of was opening a shop in

Sangla for electrical goods,
contracting with a few hotels for his

products, and buying a Mahindra Jeep

for tourists. The dream had several

layers to it, such as hiring a local boy

to run the shop and an assistant to

take care of minor issues in the

contracts. This would free him to

drive the Jeep long distances,

sometimes with and sometimes
without passengers. He discussed his
dreams with Nisha and she had given

her smile of approval, although Pravin

was not sure if she dreamed of
traveling beside him like in the

movies. He was sure that Nisha was

the girl for him. He had proposed

marriage to her, and after a long

argument with his father, who wanted

him to choose a local girl for a bride,

he managed to get his consent.

Nevertheless, the marriage

proceeded according to the ancient
custom still prevalent in the hills
when the daring groom ran away with

the bride of his choice, without

parental consent. The real celebration
would occur after many years, often in

the presence of their own children,

when the girl’s family accepted the

marriage. The same custom is still in

practice, but now it is always with the

consent of the girl. The approval was

easy and reflected on her face. Pravin

felt relieved. Marriage was important,

as his parents needed a helping hand,
but he had never wanted to make it
elaborate. Pravin was a dreamer but

he was not the romantic type.

Diwakar was close to the
ancient village of Batseri. The forest

gave way to a flat stretch of road. The

rains had stopped and the terrain was

waking up to a cold morning with

birds chirping in sharp voices either

to shake away the cold or to invite the

sun. A gentle breeze blew and the oak

leaves swayed and turned, displaying

their silvery undersides washed clean.
Frosty blueberries glistened while
violets growing in cracks and crevices

spread their pastel petals. Bushy

undergrowth held on to the raindrops
displaying a string of miniature lights.

The other side of the gorge looked like

a washed out Chinese landscape

painting in living monochrome.

Diwakar looked at the village below

from the road high up. He could make

out the houses with dark walls and tin

roofs and the village temple standing

high in the middle with its slanted
slate roof partly visible. The red,
green, and yellow Tibetan flags,

standing tall in several houses,

greeted and waved at him in peace.
Nearly all villages had temples

housing the local god as well as a

Gompa (a Buddhist shrine) and

people generally followed one or both

religions. There was hardly any

conflict and though most of them

were Hindus, they hold a special

sympathy for the minority Tibetans

living there from the time they had
lost their homeland to the Chinese.
 The peaks at Rakcham were

home to the Himalayan black and

brown bear, goral, leopards, musk
deer, blue sheep, and other wild life

who found a means of survival in high

altitudes. In winter, only a few of them

came down in search of food. The

bears were less intrusive as they were

happy with a meal of apples or

apricots and would then go back into

hibernation, while the leopards, who

the locals call tendua, kept the
villagers on high alert to protect their
stray cattle and dogs. The other

inhabitants of the hills were the alpine

choughs, large black birds with orange
beaks that only came down in winter,

disturbing the otherwise peaceful

valley with their shrieks and calls.

The base of the hills was

normally full of life. Various birds,

such as finches, wagtails and

sparrows, made their home near the

springs and waterfalls. The Leh berry

trees with tiny orange fruits and apple
orchards invited them by serving
decent meals, while the poplars and

deodars provide nesting grounds.

Flocks of pigeons also make their
daily rounds of the valley, flapping

their wings in unison and wandering

around the buckwheat fields in search

of food. So far, Diwakar had only seen

a brown bear once and that was

during a trip to Kanda with his father

(his Aau).

Kanda, the valley hidden in the

high altitudes, was used mainly for
grazing by sheep and goats. Once or
twice every year, Shevak traveled to

Kanda to shear the coat of wool from

their sheep, which was then carried
down and kept for the winter when

the fleece was turned into yarn.

Shevak was in his late forties and

quite stout, certainly strong enough to

carry on with his daily activities. He

led a disciplined life and though he

brewed apple liquor like all the others

in the village, he had never tasted it.

He worked as a linesman with the
state electricity office and was the
father of three children, his two sons

Pravin and Diwakar, and one

daughter, Ria, who was also the
youngest of the three.

Shevak himself was illiterate

but had provided schooling for all

three of his children, despite serious

doubts about the benefits of

education. The teachers, always

complaining of the harsh conditions,

did everything except teach, and

hardly one among a hundred managed
to get employment without
showcasing their Tribe certificate.

Shevak was known to have a short

temper but the villagers tolerated it,
mostly due to his invaluable service in

restoring power, during both summer

and winter. His wife Parvati was a

down-to-earth woman who did all the

farm work and housework and looked

much older than her actual age.

Shevak had high hopes that his

younger son Diwakar would gain

employment with the army, which
would ensure steady earnings for the
family. The only hope left for all

fathers in their village was the army,

especially the border force, where the
locals get some relaxation due to their

familiarity with the terrain and the

climate. However, written exams

posed a threat and this was why

Shevak hated the school, as the

majority of applicants failed the test.

Even Diwakar had failed this time,

though he passed all the physical tests

with ease.
Shevak rarely discussed his
feelings about Pravin’s dreams with

anyone. Whenever he did, he started

swearing so much that even the
listener started sympathizing with his

son, probably wondering what

someone so young could have done

that was so wrong. They saw him as a

young man who mostly remained

silent while observing everything

around him, so they didn’t understand

the inner workings of his mind.

Shevak never elaborated on the
various exploits of Pravin and
normally ended the discussion with a

grunt coupled with a disgruntled look

as if sugarless tea had been served to
him.

The mere mention of Ria, his

daughter, brought sunshine to his

face. Ria, now fourteen years old, was

a bundle of demands—from TV serials

to bangles to chewing gum to hairclips

—but Shevak rarely showed

intolerance with her and pampered

her within his means.
Ria possessed the same short
temper as her father, although the

brunt of it was mostly borne by her

mother (her Aama). Ria was in
standard eight and loved going to

school, not only for the free rajma-rice

lunch but also for the opportunity to

discuss nightly episodes on TV with

friends. At home, she barely helped

her mother with housework, spending

most of her time in front of a mirror.

However, she was all ears for her

father and went out of her way to
please him, sometimes cooking,
sometimes washing, and even

carrying small lots of wood for the

bukhari (ironstove) whenever he was
at home. Ria never displayed her

temper to her father and on rare

occasions when Shevak scolded her

she simply turned away to hide her

tears.

At night when the whole family

sat near the bukhari watching TV, the

ownership of the remote rested with

Ria and it was she who decided what
everyone should watch. Normally she
flipped between the news and

children’s channels. But the moment

her parents fell asleep she shifted to
soap operas and serials. The brothers

remained silent through this ordeal

and while Pravin dozed off, Diwakar

listened to music from his mobile

phone and his newly acquired

earphones. Then, Ria had a partner in

Nisha as they both watched the serials

together late into the night while

keeping her brother waiting in the
other room. Though she was friendly
with her, Ria kept a close eye on

Nisha, but so far, she hadn’t found

anything to complain about.
Diwakar looked at the peak far

ahead that stood opposite their

village on the south side. It hid the sun

everyday, far before the actual sunset

while teasing them with bright colors

that bounced on the floating clouds

high above. Diwakar had a special

fascination for this peak. Much of his

childhood was spent exploring the
various pathways that ran across it. In
summer, it was his duty to take the

cattle out for grazing every morning,

and it was at the base of this peak
where he spent the day with them.

There were meadows hidden across

the river and the hills, meadows of

green grass holding the dew that

captured the sun in a mysterious way

with little yellow, white, and pink

flowers breaking the monotony and

swinging in the wind flowing across

the valley cooled by the river.
Occasional saplings of young pine
trapped in boulders stood with a

promise of soothing shade. The

streams flowing down from the hills
lost their agility and excitement when

they reached the plains and traversed

at a slow undulating pace until they

touched the river. The banks were a

riot of colors with wildflowers

blooming in very curve. Small wooden

bridges helped people cross these

streams in places where they were

wide.
High across the meadows the
hills rose steeply between the pines,

deodars, and poplars. Wildflowers in

the shadows nourished by streams
emerged through the rocks. The beds,

rich with pine needles, some green

but mostly brown with aging,

provided a soft cushion to the birds

and roaming animals. During

monsoon season, the rains swept

across the valley in gentle drizzles,

washing the greens with affection and

love. Clouds traveled low here and
sometimes the mountains wore a
shawl of fog that hid them from view

only to emerge again when the breeze

visited them. In the evening, the hills
lost much of their color and the village

was lost except for tiny dots of light

coming from some of the houses.

In the evening, the whole

family huddled around the bukhari.

Pancakes and curries were cooked on

the same fire. Parvati cooked while

Nisha served and both waited for the

others to finish before they had their
own dinner. Parvati had developed a
genuine caring and regard for Nisha.

Earlier, she never had anyone to

confide in. She had lost her parents at
an early age and after marriage, hers

had been a life of labor. Her day

started at six in the morning, first

cooking and then taking a long walk to

tend the fields. After that, she

collected cow dung, grass, and wood,

carried them back home, and cooked

the evening meal.

She had to put up with the
temper of Shevak and the tempers of
her children, except for Diwakar who

was different. She rarely complained,

believing that her hard life was
atonement for some sin she had

committed in her past life. She was

close to forty but hard work and harsh

weather had left a visible mark on her.

The only relief she had was during

winter when the family traveled down

to the Dongri (makeshift winter home

in a warmer place near the plains)

where, except for spinning wool and
brewing liquor, there was nothing
much to do. Parvati rarely smiled. She

was a dutiful wife and mother. Nisha

was a source of relief for her, as she
shared in the burdens of farm work.

Nisha listened to her stories and tried

counseling her with her limited

wisdom. Although Parvati felt

distressed with Pravin for his

arrogant nature, she started liking

Nisha.

Diwakar was just two bends

away when he met Yashobant.
“Namaste,’’ he said, and Yashobant
greeted him with a smile. Yashobant

had been the village head for the last

thirty years and though he was
seventy, he never missed his six-

kilometer morning walk. His dark eyes

glittered below white bushy

eyebrows. Wrinkles nestled among

folds of loose skin complemented his

wisdom, and though frail, he never

suffered from any ailment.

Yashobant was aware of

Diwakar’s failure to pass the army
exam, and said, “Never lose heart, son.
You can always try again.”

Diwakar said, “Yes, Mamaji

(uncle), I’m sure I’ll pass next time.”
Diwakar was lost in thought. A

chilly breeze brought him back to the

present as it pushed away the fog,

much to the delight of the birds that

startled him with their loud chatter.

He reached the ice-cold stream

flowing down the middle of the forest

where it crossed the road, sloped, and

dropped precipitously to embrace the
river down in the valley. Bushes, trees,
wildflowers, and dead pine needles

near the stream formed another small

planet and each corner rebelled in its
own unique way to gain attention. The

sun poured in through the deodars

and pines and started painting the

valley in colorful pink, yellow, and

green patches that lined both sides of

the river and the slopes near the base

of the mountains. It was the harvest

season. Apple orchards were in full

bloom with the juicy red fruits
glistening in sunlight much to the
delight of the village folks who made

merry through various festivals and

dance rituals when the local wine
flowed as freely as the Baspa River.

The river had run between

these peaks and made its way through

the boulders, polishing, rounding, and

smoothing them for millions of years.

In some places, large boulders forced

the river to curve around and

sometimes jump over them, creating

sparkles and music. Often the river
jumped down several feet before
again running across the valley. In the

daytime, the water had a turquoise

tint while at night one could only
listen to her, except for times when

the moon painted the water silver.

There were bends and corners, which

held a special place for many birds

that chattered and made small sorties

trying to catch insects and flies.

On the next bend, the sky

opened up and Diwakar had a clear

view of the ravine below. The peak on
the other side caught the sun much
earlier than the plains in the morning

but now it held on to a few puffs of

clouds as if for company. Some of the
peaks also sent down water in

torrents, which ran, fell, and

sometimes crawled across the peaks

to meet the Baspa River flowing down

below. The sound of sweet surrender

could be heard at the confluence of

such waterfalls, with rich green foliage

guarding and appreciating such union

and sometimes a few large boulders
offering a resting seat to watch over
them.

Diwakar sometimes
accompanied Nisha in the morning
when she went out to work. On one

such outing, he took her to a bend in

the river and they both sat watching

the stream. The boulder was smooth

and slippery and Nisha sat close to

him. Diwakar could smell the scent of

oil from her hair as a few strands

escaped and teased her face. After

some time, Diwakar stood up. Nisha
extended her hand and said, “Help me
get up.” He took her hand and pulled

her up and they stood there holding

hands looking at the stream sparkling
and making noises with hidden words

as it splashed on a rock. He was

unable to release her hand and Nisha

made no effort to free hers.

Diwakar was now negotiating

the last bend before he could see the

valley. He thought about the past

month in Chandigarh and wondered

how different it was from what he was
used to. Life in the city came with a lot
of noise. Here it was different. Here

there was silence and he could listen

to himself. While in the city, he never
missed anyone except for Nisha—

though her thoughts only visited at

night and made him restless. Nisha

was only slightly older than Diwakar,

but being a girl, she often appeared

more mature and full of wisdom. The

village was approaching and Diwakar

could see men and women moving out

to the fields. He increased his pace to
reach the village before Nisha left. In
his mind, he organized his stories

about the city, adding some colors

here and there and sorting them in
order of excitement. He was happy to

be bringing home a bagful of stories to

impress Nisha for the next few days.
 Chapter 2

Parvati was up at six in the morning like

every day. Having pushed a log onto the

dying fire she went out to the toilet,

which stood on the other side of the

courtyard away from the house—a short

walk, except in winter when the snow
was three or four feet deep. Diwakar,

known as Diwa by everyone at home, had

told her that people in the cities had
toilets inside their dwellings. She was

shocked, wondering how people could be

so dirty!

Parvati had never been out of

the village except for one trip to
Hardwar where she accompanied

Shevak to float the ashes of her father-

in-law in the holy Ganges River. She

did not eat anywhere on the way as

she had grave doubts about the cooks;

she could not have foods cooked by

someone in a low caste. She carried

boiled gram, nuts, and sugar with her

and munched on them whenever she
felt hungry. When she reached the
Ganges, she had taken a holy dip

though she was doubtful it really

washed away her past sins.
Her husband Shevak was

already up an hour before her, had

made his own tea and taken the cows

out. Both Chotu, which was Pravin’s

nickname, and Diwa were out of the

village, so Shevak had to take care of

the herds. Ria and Nisha slept

together and Parvati knew that Nisha

would be up soon.
At this point, the baby goat
bleated and was immediately joined

by the lamb, which was just a few days

older. Both slept in a box outside the
rooms and followed Parvati

everywhere. The two of them set up a

shrill noise, breaking the morning

silence. Parvati threw a twig of dried

leaves to silence them.

Nisha was up and came out

hiding a yawn. “Pravin left for Peo

yesterday,” she said. “Before he left,

he had an argument with Shevak. He
asked him for some money but Shevak
flatly refused, saying he would have to

earn it on his own. So Pravin left

without another word.”
Parvati had never understood

this son of hers; few people did. She

wondered how Nisha was coping with

him. “Is everything okay between

you?” she asked.

Nisha did not reply but gave

her a reassuring smile before she

headed for the toilet.

Ria was still under the covers
though she would be up soon. After
the kid and the lamb finished the

leaves, one started munching on

Shevak’s pants hanging in the
courtyard while the other was

jumping up and down on all fours.

Parvati chased them away and

returned to find Nisha cleaning the

courtyard, sweeping away the leaves

and dirt which came with the rains.

The buckwheat was ready for cutting

and she had to go do it today with

Nisha. It was getting late. Sometimes
the snow came in early and damaged
all the crops, trampling the plants that

otherwise stood erect, making it easy

to cut. It would have been a big help to
have Diwa there. Chotu always

avoided fieldwork whether he was

home or not. He always gave some

excuse or another.
Parvati put another log in the

bukhari and blew air though a pipe to

revive the flames. She placed a plate

on top and started making pancakes.

She never counted, as a few extra
would be for dinner. They had only
two meals a day and it was mostly

buckwheat pancakes with a vegetable

grown in their own fields or pickle.
She seldom cooked rice or chapatti

because they had to be purchased and

couldn’t afford much. The meager sum

Shevak earned went into schoolbooks,

dresses, shoes, salt, sugar, spices, oils,

soaps, and electric bills. Though

Shevak and his sons all had mobile

phones, the expenses were not much.

While Shevak only received calls, the
sons used their phones for listening to
songs. A lot of money came from the

sale of apples but that money went

mostly to repaying loans and winter
rations.

Nisha came in and sat beside

Parvati. She had washed her face and

it was radiating from the fire. A full

shower was rare and happened only

once or twice a week during summer.

Parvati looked at her with

appreciation. For once she was ready

to forgive Chotu because she was
sincerely happy for Nisha’s company
and friendship. Parvati had heard

weird stories from other women.

They said that times were changing
and one could not depend on one’s

own children to take care of their

parents. She was really shocked and

taken aback when someone

mentioned that Vinod lala’s son had

built his own house and was now

staying alone with his wife. She had

spent sleepless nights wondering how

a son could do that after his parents
had spent so much time, energy, and
money—what little they had in

rearing him. After all, they had not

saved anything for old age. Nisha
looked at her mother-in-law and said,

“Aama, can I make the vegetables

today?”

“Yes, you may, but what will

you make? We just have a cabbage and

a few radishes left. We must pick

some spinach and mustard leaves

today.”
“I will make cabbage; Aau loves
it.”
 Nisha knew that it was her

main duty and responsibility to keep

everyone in the family happy—the
seniors, her in-laws, and also the

young ones. She has seen how

dedicated her mother was from

morning till night, and when she came

here, she saw the same in her mother-

in-law. Her mother had often told her

that a husband was like a god to the

wife and should be treated as such. In

earlier times her aaya told her how
the women used to wash the feet of
their husbands when they came back

home. She never questioned this and

thought it was quite natural. Women
were always considered the lesser of

God’s creations. She tried to fulfill her

role and was even prepared for more

just to earn her place in the family. She

thought she had found what she

wanted: a home beyond her native

hills, a loving husband, and her in-

laws’ family. And though they were

not well off, and though she missed
her parents, brother, and Sheru (her
dog), she felt happy as the mere

thought of Pravin made all other

shortcomings look small.
Nisha went on to cut the

cabbage with a knife while Parvati

placed a kadai and poured some oil

into it. She added a few cloves of

garlic, dried red pepper, and salt and

the dish was ready. Shevak came in

and took his seat next to the fire.

“Father, we have made

cabbage today.”
“That sounds great,” said
Shevak, a rare smile escaping through

his unkempt and sad moustache.

These days he smiled less often
as he was uncertain about both his

sons. Diwa had failed the army exam

while Chotu simply roamed about

doing nothing. The family was

growing while his income was fixed.

He rushed with the food while both

the women watched. Shevak was on

duty though he never had an office. He

would eat and then just wait in the
local shop. He was an emergency
linesman and there were few

emergencies during summer. It was

only in winter when he was called to
fix snapped cables, uprooted poles,

and overloaded or broken circuits.

Ria was up and was washing

her face. She rubbed her face with the

Fair and Lovely cream she borrowed

from Nisha. She was not dark but not

fair either and this cream was her only

way to fairness. She had seen on TV

how girls turned into fairies in a short
while after using the cream. Being
young, the cream was beyond her

reach, but Nisha was an angel sent to

her by the gods. It was then she heard
the kid bleating in a high pitch. She

ran outside thinking that the dogs

must be chasing them but to her

surprise, she found Diwa walking up

to the house.

“Diwa has come,” she shouted

as she ran inside.

Both the women came outside

to greet him. The kid and the lamb
also started jumping in excitement.
Though exhausted from the long walk,

Diwakar brightened at the sight of

Nisha. He smiled at Nisha and
followed them inside. But his sprits

went down the moment he saw

Shevak. Shevak had finished his

brunch and was lighting a bidi

(tobacco rolled in a piece of dry leaf

and tied with a string) when Diwakar

entered. He looked at him, and though

he did not utter a word, his eyes

reflected pain, frustration, and anger.
Putting on his worn-out boots, he left
the house, leaving behind an uneasy

silence.
A few moments later, Parvati
broke the silence. “Nowadays, one

needs a lot of money to get in the

army. Everything is decided

beforehand.”
“Don’t talk rubbish,” said

Diwakar. “Not all seats are decided

like that.”

“I’m sure you will get a chance

next year,” said Nisha.
“I’m sure you will,” added Ria.
 Diwakar removed his bag and

kept it close while he sat down. He did

not want Ria to explore his
possessions, as the two packets of

maggi were right on top. He wanted to

give them to Nisha at a more

opportune time.
“Aama, I am hungry.”

“Nisha, give him food, and eat

fast so you can come with us to the

field.”
“Aama, let him rest. He walked
all the way from Sangla,” said Nisha.
 But before Parvati could say

anything, Diwakar said, “No, no, it’s

okay, I will come with you.”
It was a month since he had

seen Nisha and he hated the thought

of spending a day alone at the house.

Nisha smiled and gave him a dish of

pancakes and vegetables. Ria would

eat later before going to school.

Armed with sickles, the

procession left the house. In the lead

was Diwakar followed by Nisha then
Parvati, followed by the kid and the
lamb. Ria waved at them from the

gate. She was happy to be alone as this

provided her some private moments
in front of the mirror. She ran inside

and saw her brother’s bag on the floor.

Diwakar had forgotten to set it aside

in his excitement. Ria thought of

checking it out but the mirror was

calling and time was running out. She

needed to check for any changes after

using the cream for the last two days.

But she noticed nothing except for a
bit more smoothness. She decided to
ask a few of her friends if they had

seen any changes. After putting her

hair in pigtails, she was ready for
school. She picked up her book of

sketches on her way out the door. She

had lost her pen two months back but

she was not bothered; school was just

a daily routine. She was in standard

eight and, like most of her friends,

knew the tables up to five, the

alphabets in Hindi and English, and a

few poems. Standards nine or ten
were not much different. Nobody
worried about the exams, as all would

pass provided they attended regularly.

The farming team hit the road
and crossed into the field. Parvati had

a hard time looking after the kid and

lamb, which ran here and there to

check out the grass and the vegetables

growing around. The road went down

to the river and then ran parallel to it.

The monsoon season was still active

and the river was full. The mountain

streams that fed the river ran in
torrents now, making a great noise
across the pebbles and splashing

against the age-old rocks, some yellow

and some dark. Clusters of
wildflowers bloomed near the edges

and the wagtails and flinches made

merry catching insects on the small

banks that formed behind the rocks.

The road followed the river for a while

and took a turn toward the hills below

where the fields for farming lay.

The road was more a pathway

than a road, as very few vehicles came
this way except to collect boulders.
Pines, oaks, and the occasional

bhujpatra lined both sides of the

street. Owners marked the boundaries
of their fields with piles of stones and

boulders collected from the riverbed.

The path ran between them, winding

down the hillside like a large serpent,

its skin decorated with numerous

puddles shining from the sunlight that

came through the trees. Petunias,

cosmos, violets, and wild dahlias filled

the crevices on both sides. The wild
grass was tall and wet while some of
the blades still held on to a few drops

of rain.
Diwakar smelled the wet earth
and looked around. In the city it was

difficult to find a proper tree and they

looked very different in parks and on

the pavements. Trees in the wild were

distinctive; each one seemed to have

an identity and together they lended

character to the terrain. He looked at

Nisha walking in front, her long hair

tied in a tussle running up to her
waist. Like most other women, she
was wearing a green topi, and he knew

that in the folds she carried a needle,

some money, and the key to her
suitcase, which contained nothing but

a few storybooks, a picture of Lord

Krishna and a scarf given to her by her

aaya. A gray woolen shawl was

wrapped across her shoulders and

tied close to her bosom. In the shawl

she carried their lunch, a thick rope to

tie firewood, and a flask of salted tea.

Nisha was slim with long slender arms
but they were powerful; women of the
hills worked more like pack-mules and

carried loads as heavy as the men

carried, or heavier. She was wearing
rubber boots and had pulled up her

salwar to avoid the splashing mud.

Diwakar looked at her exposed calf;

she had glowing skin and her build

was more athletic then slender. He

increased his pace and caught up with

her.

Nisha smiled and asked, “So

how was it in the big city? Is it true
that there are more cars than people?”
 “Oh yes, there are so many

cars. Big cars, very big cars, and

special cars.”
“Did you ride in any of them?”

“Quite a few,” Diwakar said

with an air. He did not mention that it

took him half an hour and great

courage to cross the road every day.

“But somehow, I like my village more

than any other place.”

“Why so? I heard the city was

full of beautiful girls,” Nisha said
teasingly.
 Diwakar looked at her and

wanted to say, Not as beautiful as you.

But all he said was, “I haven’t met
any.”

Nisha smiled and kept walking.

Diwakar thought for a while and then

took out his mobile phone, browsed

swiftly and then played a popular

song:
Below the clear blue sky,

with the sun shining bright,

let’s ride away my love,
let me be your knight...
 While in the city, he had loaded

all the latest songs onto his mobile

phone. He was happy that a song
could say much more than he could.

He looked at Nisha and gave her one

of his adolescent smiles, a smile pure

and innocent.
Nisha looked at Diwakar and

felt sad. She knew how strongly he

dreamt of joining the army and how

passionate he was about donning the

uniform. She remembered the many
times he told her about the distant
peaks and how one day he would ride

to the top and take charge of the

country’s border. He was older than
her brother, but with him being

around, she did not miss her own

brother as much. The first few weeks

had been difficult. He was shy and

never spoke to her. The few times

they looked eye-to-eye he moved

away with just a faint trace of a smile.

It took over a month before they

exchanged words but she could
always make out his presence in the
form of small gifts passed on through

either Parvati or Ria. Be it some wild

flowers or apricots or some other
fruits. She knew that he loved his aaté

very much and both spent time

chatting and wandering around the

valley. Apart from his mother, Pravin

had asked Nisha to take especially

good care of his brother and Nisha

had done her best, though there was

nothing much to do.

Parvati walked a bit behind
them. She stopped every now and
then to chase the kid and the lamb.

She could not leave them at home for

fear of dogs; it would be at least a few
more months before they could take

care of themselves. After a while, she

left them; she knew that they would

come running behind her if the gap

increased. She looked ahead and saw

the floating puffs of clouds. They were

not the dark clouds that carried rain

but she was worried. The monsoon

had come in late this year. Last year
there was less snowfall and the fields
were dry. Finally, Devta, the local

deity, was brought to the riverbank,

puja was performed, and two lambs
were sacrificed; only then had the

rains come. But now the rains needed

to stop. Maybe another puja and

sacrifice were needed.

Devta held the whole village

together, although he was just an idol,

a local deity. But when Devta spoke, he

provided answers, advice, and

solutions to every problem. He spoke
through Gur, the village priest, a
person selected by him through a

ritual when the Devta took possession

of his body and soul and announced
himself. The Gur interpreted his

words and the villagers abided by

what he said. The Devta owned land, a

pickup van, and a storehouse. The

villagers took turns tilling his land and

driving his Jeep and earnings were

kept in the custody of the temple.

Though there were two others,

Mother Goddess and the Serpent God,
the main god was Samsher. Legend
said that it was Samsher who founded

their village hundreds of years ago,

and he was rich and powerful. Six
families (one low caste among them)

accompanied him and settled here.

His fame reached far and wide and it

was said that he and his brother

together killed the notorious ruler of

Kalpa in a fair fight. While he settled

here, his brother moved beyond the

hills and was currently the Devta of

fifteen villages. Both of them came
from the high hills, which were now
held sacred. A handful of youth

selected by the Devta himself were

allowed to visit once every year and
bring down brahma kamal and other

rare flowers on special occasions.

There were very few snakes in the

valley but still the Serpent God was

held with reverence. No one could

cook any fish, chicken, or eggs on the

land marked for him.

The pathway ended in a grass

meadow and a new vista opened in
front of them. The buckwheat had
blossomed and a pink carpet

stretched to the base of the hills with

its flowers gently swaying with the
wind. A few yellow patches of mustard

grass lay in between; butterflies

danced, birds flew in search of food

and sunlight broke through the clouds

every now and then. The peaks stood

still in the background, their spiritual

silence broken only by the springs.

Diwakar watched Nisha walk

gracefully through the field. She undid
the shawl and set it below a tree and
sat down. Diwakar sat cross-legged

next to her and soon Parvati joined

them. Nisha passed on tea to her and
smiled.

“Aama, why do you look so

worried?”

“Aama is always worried,” said

Diwakar.

“Why shouldn’t I be? The rains

have damaged half the crops. This

year we will have only two or three

sacks and that’s not enough to feed six
people.”
 “Don’t worry, Aama, everything

will be all right,” Nisha said.

Parvati got up, looked at the
fields, and said, “Let’s get started. The

rains could come at any moment.”

Everyone started for the field

while the kid and the lamb played

around the tree munching grass and

anything green. The buckwheat stood

erect on its maroon stems. They

started out green but after the

flowering, they slowly turn into a
pleasant pink while the wild variety
remained green with just a tinge of

yellow.
Nisha and Parvati started in
one direction while Diwakar went

farther down. The buckwheat was cut

from the base and set down in

bunches for drying. Once dried, the

bunches were beaten on large sheets

to separate the seeds. The stems

would be dried further to serve as

cattle food during winter. By noon,

half the field was done. While Nisha
and Parvati managed a quarter of the
field, Diwakar was halfway through

and met them with a proud smile.

Everyone needed a break to stretch as
constant bending caused muscle

strains. While Nisha passed on the

pancakes, placing a pickle on them,

Diwakar played songs on his phone.

The kid and the lamb came and

started tugging at Parvati. She gave

both a piece of pancake; the kid

gobbled it up but the lamb was not

interested.
Ria was on her way to school
when she noticed her father sipping

tea at the local shop. There was only

one shop in the village that sold daily
necessities. It also doubled as a hotel

and served tea and maggi noodles.

Most of the goods were second quality

or contraband. The villagers never

complained, as the next shop was

fourteen kilometers away in Sangla.

Bharat Singh ran the shop; he came

from the plains and married a local

girl, Dayawanti. But after three years
of marriage, when she failed to give
him a child, he went back home and

got married again. His second wife

gave birth to a girl and then two more
in the consecutive years. Bharat

stayed in the village and ran the shop,

sending most of the profits to his

second wife. Only in winter did he

spend time with his daughters.

Dayawanti accepted her fate and did

her best to serve her husband. Apart

from cooking, she took care of the

shop, keeping everyone occupied with
her constant chatter. It was as if she
served as the radio local station,

because one could get almost any

information from her. She also
enjoyed picking up goods from as far

away as Peo and Rampur for the shop,

though she rarely enjoyed the fruits of

profit. Bharat normally sat at the

counter on a large box watching a

portable TV while a heater warmed

his bottom. He kept swearing at

Dayawanti for the smallest perceived

shortcoming. He rarely moved. In
absence of Dayawanti, the customers
picked things up and brought them to

him for payment.

Ria ran into the shop and
opened a jar of bubble-gum. She

picked up a few pieces, smiled at

Shevak, and proceeded on her way.

A light drizzle came in and

Shevak and others ran inside the shop.

Bharat looked at him and asked, “Is it

true that Diwa passed the physical

test but could not make it through the

written one?”
Shevak grunted under his
breath and said, “Those bastards don’t

teach anything at the school, they are

just here to take their fat salaries.”
“That may be true but one

needs to spend money for such jobs. I

know someone who gave two hundred

thousand rupees to get his son

inside,” Bharat said.

“In which case I would prefer

him to stay at home and look after the

cows,” Shevak said and lit up a bidi.

Bharat decided not to push the
subject, as he was aware of Shevak’s
bad temper.

The rains reached the field

also. First, it was a drizzle that floated
down from the east and then it

covered the field in a mist. Very soon,

the three hurried to the shade of a

large tree. Parvati crouched on one

side and pulled her shawl on top of her

head while Diwakar and Nisha stood

on the other side. The tree provided

some cover but then a big drop

splashed on Nisha’s face, on her cheek
and ran down. Diwakar was standing
close and felt a strong urge to kiss her

rain-kissed lips. But before long,

another drop splashed on his eyes and
Nisha laughed. A puddle formed next

to them and the raindrops formed

ringlets, breaking the silver at places

where it hit the water. The rain fell

harder; the slow drumming sound of

water on oak leaves filled the space

and very soon, everyone was wet.

Nisha looked far away at the hazy

mountains. Rains brought back
memories, memories of her parents,
her aaya, her brother, and memories

of childhood.
Nisha was thinking about
Pravin. She remembered the meetings

at Peo and his eyes full of dreams.

There was no such thing as an affair;

in the hills, marriage happens first and

then love. In the hills, life is more

primal and routine. Marriage is a duty,

an unwritten contract to labor for the

rest of one’s life in exchange for food

and shelter. No one complained. No
one thought that life could be
something different. She remembered

her aaya, who told her about Lord

Shiva and his wife Parvati—that they
were the ideal couple and Parvati the

ideal wife, who would sacrifice her life

for her husband. Every girl should

aspire to be a wife like her and devote

her entire life to her husband. After

marriage, a woman should never look

at any other man and always keep her

eyes down in front of others. She

should keep herself covered as far as
possible and never speak in the
presence of other men. She should

always walk one step behind her

husband and follow him for the rest of
her life.

Diwakar looked at Nisha, who

was obviously lost in thought. Nisha’s

kameez was plastered to her body; it

accentuated her breasts, her slim hips,

thighs, and whole body. Diwakar had a

strong desire to hold her close; more

than passion, he wanted to care for

her. Nisha, as if sensing his thoughts,
smiled at him and ran her finger down
his nose, stopping briefly at his lips.

He felt a stirring inside and a wave of

excitement ran through his body. He
stepped out of the shade into the rain

and looked up stretching his hands.

The rains cooled him down as it

splattered his face.

“You’ll get sick,” Nisha shouted

above the sound of the rain.

“Not me,” he said as he dashed

out to the fields.

Rains don’t last for long in the
mountains. They travel from one
valley to another washing the leaves

and leaving small puddles and pearls

on the grass. Awhile later, the rains
lessened and the three walked back

toward home. Ria, after coming back

from school, made a few pancakes.

Both she and her father had dinner

and were watching TV when the three

came in. They changed into dry

clothes and then went straight to the

bukhari to sit close to the fire. Soon

the warmth spread and Parvati mixed
rice and dal for making khichdi. She
was in no mood to make pancakes

after a long day. After dinner,

everyone went to sleep. Diwakar
decided to sleep next to the bukhari.

He was feeling cold after his long day

in the plains. He pushed in two thick

logs and stretched out on the

sheepskin.

In the other room, Nisha was

awake and looked out of the window.

Everything was dark except for the

few lights flickering on the hills far
away. The sky was clear now and she
could see a million stars hanging

overhead. A few stray dogs barked in

the distance. The house, Ria, the
entire village was sleeping. Only a

faint song came floating inside…

Let’s ride away my love,

let me be your knight...

 Chapter 3

Pravin was waiting with others for the

bus. It never came on time but everyone

got used to it. This helped Bharat’s

business as the bus-stand was next to his

shop. People ordered tea, biscuits, bidi,

and more if the bus was delayed.
Sometimes the driver and his helper

would order food, rice, and dal,

prompting other passengers to get off and
shop. The bus traveled another ten km to

Chitkul, the last Indian village before

Tibet, now under Chinese occupation.
Passengers only got up on the return trip.

Dayawanti came out of the

shop and said to Pravin, “If you are

going to Peo, you can come along with

me. I’m leaving in half an hour with

Balbir.”
Pravin thought for a second

and said, “Okay, that will be much

better and save me time. But I don’t

have much money.”

“That’s all right. Just pay
whatever you can. I have reserved the
Jeep.”

“When will you be coming

back?”
“It will be quite some time

before I come back.”

“So, you got a job?”

“Not yet, but I am sure I will get

one,” Pravin said confidently.

“But how can you stay away

from such a beautiful wife? You have

just married and she will miss you.”

Pravin smiled and gave a stoic
look. The job was more important to
him. He knew that Nisha was an

understanding woman and would

wait. Pravin took a seat and ordered
tea. There were thousand of things

going on in his mind. He needed to

earn money. He did not want to get

trapped in household work. He did not

want to spend the rest of his life

tending the cattle, collecting grass and

firewood, and brewing liquor. He

wanted to break away and make it big,

not only for himself but also to
provide some comfort and relief to
the family. He had already provided

his mother with a helping hand and

stayed at home for the last six months
but now he needed to move out. The

six months had been bittersweet. He

had had long arguments with Shevak.

He wanted money for a shop, which

Shevak refused to give or lend to him.

He did not mind his aau’s outbursts as

he knew he really did not have much

in savings. He tried to get a loan to

buy a Jeep, but again, the bank wanted
some guarantee. The only solace was
with Nisha who understood and

listened to him. She was always

confident that he would find a way.
Balbir came with his Jeep and

parked it in front of the shop. He had

just washed the car near the river and

it looked clean and glowing in the sun.

The Jeep was a four-seater but most of

the time it carried six. People also

traveled on the carrier meant for

goods. Balbir was one of the most

reliable drivers in the region and he
also maintained his car. He had been
driving a long time and knew every

corner, bend, and rough patch on the

route. Balbir lived with his mother.
His father was from Nepal. Balbir’s

mother had three unmarried sisters

and after marriage, his father was

expected to stay with his in-laws, as

he was the only male member of the

family. He stayed for a few years but

then left for Rampur where he worked

with the PWD.

Balbir had spent his childhood
with his uncle in Chandigarh, who
made him work like a laborer though

he took him in under the pretext of

bringing him up with a proper
education. Most of his childhood and

youth were spent doing errands until

he got into driving. By then he was fed

up with city life and returned to his

village. He knew that the mountain did

not allow its own people to stay away

long; it did not like to lose them.

Though the hill people looked down

on the plains, to make a living they
had to return to the mountain at some
point or another.

Balbir married soon afterward,

but even after eight years, they did not
have a child. He had performed puja

several times and even called the local

Lama to recite hymns but to no avail.

Dayawanti started off the

moment the car hit the road. “Look at

Lalaji! How comfortably he sits in the

shop while I do all the donkeywork.

Travel such a distance, buy a thousand

things, load them in this car, check the
bills, bring them back and then place
them in the shop. Is this a woman’s

work? And all the while, he sits there

and watches TV. My sister even comes
to give him food.”

“You can easily say no!” said

Pravin, but Balbir smiled silently. He

like others was used to her rumblings

and no longer paid much heed to

them.
Dayawanti continued for some

time and then stopped. Both she and

Pravin shared the front seat while a
few people got in the back seat. Some
would go as far as Sangla while others

would go a bit farther. There was also

a patient, an old woman, accompanied
by a lady. There was no hospital in the

village. A government clinic was

located there but had no supply of

medicines and most of the time the

doctor was absent. It was only good

for minor cuts and bruises, as the jar

of iodine was always full. If someone

was sick, his family served him soups

and offered puja. If the illness was
severe, the person was taken to
Sangla. It was more difficult in winter

when the roads remained closed. Most

of the patients would die on the road
due to either the cold or the stress and

strain of the trip.

Very soon, the Jeep was out of

the village and the valley opened up

before them. The Baspa River fell from

a gorge and, gracing a group of age-old

boulders with chilled splashing water,

ran down between the hills toward

Sutlej. The apple orchards were in full
bloom; the apricot trees spread their
branches with ripe yellow fruits;

walnuts and blueberries provided a

playground for barbets and finches
feasting merrily. Balbir switched on

his tape to play music. It was a

welcome change from Dayawanti’s

blabbering and everyone fell silent.

Rakcham was two thousand

feet above Sangla and the road was

mostly downhill. Sangla was a bit

larger than a village, approaching the

size of a township. It had a bank,
hospital, a few hotels, a magistrate’s
office, and a police station. The main

market was about a hundred yards in

length. Tourists flocked the streets.
Balbir made a quick stop and then

started again. It was much warmer

here and the road had quite a bit of

traffic at this time of the year, mostly

trucks from the plains, which came to

load apples from the orchards.

Everyone was in a hurry to return, as

quite often the rains caused

landslides. Earlier and even now, trees
were being cut indiscriminately and
erosion had taken over. Balbir heard

from a tourist that in the western

world, dams were shunned as they
disturbed the environment, but here

new projects were passed every day

with little concern for the natural

habitat. Rivers had been gagged with

concrete, forced to travel different

routes, sometimes held back, and

sometimes overflowed. Thousands of

trees had been cut, mountains blasted,

birds and animals forced to flee their
homes, and all this just to serve a
handful of businessmen or politicians

in their quest for money and power.

The road ran down to Karcham
where it met the Sutlej and then to

Tapri before traveling up again. In

Tapri, the Jeep halted and everyone

got out for tea. Pravin checked his

certificates in his bag. He had passed

intermediate school on the second

attempt and represented his school in

sports. He thought about Mamaj, a

distant uncle from his own village who
now lived in Peo. Pravin had stayed
with him for a few months during his

college days. Mamaji was working for

a contractor who had assured Pravin
of a job when he finished his

electrician’s course. He said he knew

quite a few people and it would be

easy to get a job that would pay ten to

fifteen thousand rupees per month.

That was a lot of money for him as

only the army job could provide such a

salary. He had called Mamaji twice

during the past week. The first time he
called the line got disconnected but
the second time it went unanswered.

He assumed Mamaji had been too

busy to speak to him.
Balbir was in his thirties and

had a strong build, a round, clean-

shaven face, and always wore a cap.

He had been on this road more than a

thousand times but he was driving

with a frown. He might have to go to

Chandigarh soon. A friend in Sangla

had advised him to go for some tests

which might tell him why there was
no child so far. He was of two minds
about the tests. He had full trust in

Devta to solve his problem. Like all

other people in the village, his entire
world revolved around this belief.

Devta decided the rains, the floods,

the snowfall, life, and death. In his

heart he longed for a child but he also

believed that if they hadn’t conceived

so far it was their destiny. He was a

dutiful son and husband. He had taken

care of his mother in old age, looked

after his wife, offered sacrifice to
Devta and also did puja regularly.
Devta would surely grant his wishes

soon.
The Jeep reached Peo and
Balbir parked it at the taxi stand just

outside the town. Peo was the nearest

town and nearly everyone made a trip

there for either shopping or

government work. It had a large

market selling vegetables, crockery,

electronics, and hardware. People

traveled to Peo from nearby villages

to buy and sell things. Everyone got
out except Dayawanti, as the Jeep
would now go to the wholesaler where

she would load it with supplies.

Pravin had a few hours, as
Mamaji would not return until

evening. He flung his bag across his

shoulder and walked around town. He

was wearing a light jacket over his T-

shirt. He never used his green topi, as

he hated to be identified with his own

people. Generally, people from the

cities and plains looked at Kinnauris

as poor, illiterate farmers coming
from a different world. He felt hungry
and made for the nearest tea stall. He

had enough money with him to

sustain him for a few days. Pravin
ordered two chapattis and vegetables

and settled on a table. An old man was

seated opposite him sipping tea. He

said, “Namaste,” with a polite smile.

The man smiled back and said,

“It’s cold today and it might rain.”

“It’s colder where I come from.”

“Where are you from?”

“Close to the Tibet border,
Rakcham near Chitkul.”
 The old man nodded in

recognition and then asked, “So, what

brings you here?”
“I’m looking for a job.”

“Why? Don’t you have farmland

or an orchard in Rakcham?”

“Yes, but our family is large

now.”

“I see,” said the old man and

sipped his tea. “It may not be easy,

unless you know someone.”

Pravin nodded in agreement
and began eating his food.
 Outside, the market was full of

people and noise. Cars, Jeeps, buses,

trucks, people, and cows filled the
streets. Pravin found a pay phone and

made a call to Mamaji. There was not

much of a balance in his cell phone

account and he wanted to save it for

Nisha. Mamaji did not show any

reaction but told him that he would be

home by six; Pravin could wait at the

gate.
Pravin did not have to wait
long. Mamaji arrived a few minutes
after six with two bottles of beer and

some eggs. He changed, got two

glasses, and sat down.
He smiled at Pravin and said,

“So, you need a job? My boy, you

should have come a few days back. My

friend, who is the manager of a

company, has just been transferred to

Solan!”
“But you said you have many

friends here.”
“True, but I need to check with
them. Anyway, you can stay here for a
few days and look around.”

Mamaji poured the beer while

Pravin cooked the eggs. Earlier when
he stayed with Mamaji, it was his duty

to cook food and take care of the

house. He was good at cooking, which

he had learned from his friend Arun

who worked in a local hotel in Peo.

Mamaji switched off the TV.

Both had the beer with eggs and

chapatti and then slept. Mamaji was

fast asleep while Pravin was still
awake. He knew he had a difficult task
ahead. He thought about his village.

Not that he hated his village; it was

just the plight of the villagers, their
closed minds, their stubborn attitude,

and age-old beliefs that offended him.

He knew he was not the only one.

There were many like him who

wanted to break away. Most of them

came back after a while. Some became

short-term contractors only to lose

out to outsiders. Some got low-level

jobs as deliverymen or as security
personnel. But, after paying for a room
and food, there was not much left for

them to send back home. He wished

his brother would qualify to join the
army soon so both could make a

difference. He loved his brother and

remembered his words. He had only

been ten at the time when Pravin had

taken him for a short trek uphill. After

a while both stopped. Diwa looked at

the far off mountains and asked,

“Brother, have you ever gone up to

those peaks?”
“No, only the army can go there
in fur jackets and big boots.”

“One day I will be in the army,”

Diwa said, “and I will roam there with
guns and horses.”

“Sure, my brother,” Pravin

assured him.

He used to tell him stories

from Mahabharata, the great epic, and

Diwa used to listen with big eyes. He

told him about the local conviction

that the clan of Kinnauris to which

they belonged was a direct
descendent of the Pandavas and Diwa
believed him. Not only stories, Pravin

taught his brother many things—how

to catch fish with his bare hands; how
to breathe in long treks; how to use a

catapult; how to climb tall trees, and

much more. He had given him

guidance on the physical test for the

army and he was glad he passed it. It

was only bad luck that he failed the

written exams. Now he spoke with

him less frequently, but in his heart,

he had a special place for his brother.
And then he remembered Nisha.
 It was in Peo where he had first

met her. He was with a friend at the

Tibetan restaurant when four girls
came in. He knew one of them, Meena,

who came from Batseri, a nearby

village. She waved at him and he

nodded with a smile. But the girl who

held his attention was the one

speaking less, though her eyes

betrayed her silence. Before they left,

Pravin called Meena aside and asked

about her friend.
“Where is she from? I would
like to meet her.”

“She is from Ribba and if you

promise to treat us all, I can arrange a
meeting with you,” Meena said with a

smile.
Pravin agreed to the deal and

the next day Meena came to the

college to tell him that Nisha would

meet him during the weekend.

Pravin arrived a few minutes

late and found Nisha waiting for him.

Nisha smiled at him. She was wearing
a violet kameez and a white shawl.
Her eyes were bright with kajal

around them and she wore a light

lipstick on her lips. In ancient days
Kinnauri women were famous for

their seducing skills and were often

used covertly to kill the enemy. Such

girls were known as bish kanyas, or

“poison-girls.” They were experts in

song and dance and flirting and would

win the heart of the enemy. Once they

won their trust, they would wait for an

opportune moment when they would
poison and kill the victim. Though a
few managed to escape, most were

caught and sentenced to death. But

such death was considered
martyrdom. In modern times, song

and dance was no longer practiced

and only reserved for festivals. But the

pure Kinnauri girls inherited the looks

and retained the sharp features of

their ancestors. Nisha was no

exception. But Pravin was not the

romantic type. Like other hill people,

he lacked the art of sweet talk,
courtship and all that goes with it. He
knew he had reached the age of

marriage and before his parents

decided on someone, he would have
to make his choice.

Their meeting went like the

dance of a bird-of-paradise trying to

impress the female with his prowess

and poses. Pravin had seen the world

a bit more than the average man of his

age. He listed his accomplishments

with flair but also added colors. Nisha

was all ears. Here, the world was small
and imagination did not have wings
like in the city; the harsh reality of life

was overpowering. Moreover,

marriage was fixed, based on wealth
more than the age or physical

qualities of the groom.

Nisha knew that very soon her

parents would marry her off. There

was talk from a family in the same

village. She knew the man was in his

late thirties and quite serious. Pravin

was young, came from an average

family, but was honest and straight.
She had seen a movie recently and the
romance in it touched her. A line she

liked from the movie said, “For every

person there is someone waiting
somewhere.” It was as if another

world existed between a man and

woman, a world that was different

from what she had known so far. In

the movies, the man never behaved

like a God and the woman never

treated him like one. Nisha was

surprised—it was a bit shocking for

her, too. Her mouth opened in awe as
she saw the couple dance together—
in her village, the men and the women

danced in their respective groups, and

only during festivals and special
occasions. But there the couple was

dancing freely in the gardens and

meadows. And they exchanged words

of love she never imagined existed.

She knew this was all wrong and only

happened in movies. She remembered

her friend who told her once that the

world of movies was much different

from real life. She tried to hide her
face during the intimate scenes, but
her friends nudged her and whispered

to behave normally. It was a big

embarrassment for her to see such
things with men seated nearby. She

also felt a rush of warmth diffuse

through her body. First she thought

she was in fever but it passed away

slowly. At night, she was restless—she

could not sleep and only felt calm after

a long shower. She knew her friends at

college always discussed boys but so

far, she had never even looked at
anyone. She was not shy, but to her, a
man could only mean one thing to a

girl and she was confident that

someone would find her someday. Her
parents had chosen a guy in her

village for her to marry, but she

wanted to go beyond her native hills

to find someone—to some far away

place with new terrain, new trees, new

birds, and new faces.

After a few more meetings

between them, Pravin was more

confident. He was growing impatient
as his final exams were drawing close.
He looked at Nisha and asked, “Is it

okay for you to run away with me?”

Nisha was not surprised, as
this was quite common. It was as good

as marriage. The only issue was she

wouldn’t be able to visit her parents

unless they consented to the marriage

and this sometimes took years. Her

uncle married in a similar fashion and

it was only after eleven years—a long

time after her nephew and niece were

born—that their marriage was
officially celebrated.
 She sensed adventure but in a

straight face asked, “Will your parents

accept me, and will they treat me
well?”

“Sure, they will. You can trust

me to convince them,” Pravin said

reassuringly.
“Is your mother an angry

person…will your sister like me?”

Pravin smiled again.

“And do you have a TV in your

house?”
“Yes, we do.” He did not
mention that Ria controlled the

remote.
“So, when is your plan to
marry?” she asked.

“I will go back home after my

exams. I will speak with my parents

and inform you about the date. But be

prepared. I cannot wait for long.”

Parvati, Pravin’s mother,

welcomed Nisha with a gold necklace

and two bangles. She had hoped for a

big festival, as this was the first
marriage in the house. But she felt
good, as everyone liked Nisha and told

her she was lucky that her son picked

a bride like her. Shevak remained
silent but blessed the bride. A few

relatives came and the women sang

age-old folk songs. Parvati made poltu

(a fried pancake) and meat for all.

Diwakar played music from his cell

phone. Ria sat close to Nisha and kept

looking at her. In the evening the

whole family sat together and had

dinner. After dinner, Shevak left for his
room while the brothers went to
watch TV. Parvati sat with Nisha and

asked about her home, her parents,

and her village. She praised her long
hair and fair complexion. Nisha

blushed and then chatted with Ria for

a while.

Pravin thought about the first

night. He had taken time to tell her

about all the people who came,

relatives, friends, and neighbors. He

singled out his brother Diwakar and

asked her to take care of him. He
mentioned his father, Shevak, and his
temper. Earlier they had gone to the

temple to seek blessings from Devta

and the smaller gods. Both stood at
the window and looked at the stars.

Pravin drew her close. He could smell

the sweet scent of her oil and

perfume. So far, during all their

meetings, they had only spoken, never

touched each other, not even held

hands. Pravin ran his nose against her

neck and she felt his strong hands. She

responded with a short kiss and both
made way for the bed. Pravin knew it
was the first time for both but he had

some knowledge from adult films he

had seen. He thought of guiding her.
But men had nothing to teach women.

For the hill people, life was still

primeval, uncomplicated, simple, and

basic. Intellect did not rule over

instinct. There was no sweet talk,

foreplay, or pretension. The

overpowering innocence of the

mountains, which stood tall and aloof,

still retained its control over the
minds of the people. Both sought to
appease a basic hunger, without any

sophistication or civilized pretense.

Unquenched fires, long smoldering,
gave way to flames. Winds called the

clouds, clouds gave birth to rain,

raindrops grouped and formed a

spring. The spring ran down forming a

river and the river ran in torrents

touching stones lying untouched for

millions of years and then it met the

sea; waves formed, splashed the

beaches, and the wind receded and
the sea was calm. A thousand stars
blinked in delight.

Both lay drained and sweating.

Nisha felt pain but it was not
unbearable. The pleasure was

immense and overriding. She looked

at Pravin, who was breathing heavily.

In the excitement, she had dug her

nails into his shoulders and knew it

hurt him. She came close and rested

her head on his shoulders. After a

while, she kissed him. It acted like fuel

on burning embers and soon both
were aroused again. It went on until
the early hours of the morning and

then both slept, exhausted.

***
Pravin woke up early. The

morning sun came in through the

window. In the morning, Peo was a

quiet town. The hustle and bustle of

daytime was missing. He could listen

to a distant gong coming from the

monastery. He made tea and woke up

Mamaji.
Mamaji sipped his tea and took
out a piece of paper and scribbled a
few numbers and addresses. He gave

them to Pravin and said, “You need to

call these people and make an
appointment. Also, do not forget to tell

them that I have given you their

number.”

Mamaji took a shower and was

soon on his way to work. Pravin

thought of calling Nisha but decided

to call later. He had a long day ahead.

He took a shower, dressed, and

checked his papers. He made two
pancakes and had them with some
pickle. Soon he was on the road.
 Chapter 4

It was one of those crisp mornings. There

was no rain and the blue sky promised a

bright clear day. Diwakar walked down

to the river, crossed it, and went along

the pathway to the fields. He was up

early and had told Shevak he would take
the cows out. But he did not tell him his

plans for the day. Last night he had

formed a team with three of his friends
for fishing trout. This was a very common

sport, only this time Diwakar planned it

for Nisha; he wanted to impress her.

The four friends walked along

the edge of the field. Diwakar carried
peanuts and a few apples in his

pocket. There was chill in the morning

air but they were accustomed to the

cold. The sun was up, but the peaks

would not allow it to spread its magic

for some time yet. The river flowed

below them and could be heard

crawling against the boulders. A

hundred years back the river was
much wider at this place and there
was a large lake where the village now

stands. People used to build houses on

the slopes. But the river made its own
way cutting between the peaks and

formed a deep gorge. It moved,

leaving a fertile patch of land, and

soon folks moved there.

Diwakar looked at the small

sandbank across the river. He could

see a few white wagtails hopping

around, their tails wagging every now

and then. The bank, now small,
expanded in size during winter when
the river flowed like a narrow snake.

The bank also served as the cremation

ground for the village. He
remembered that Teté (grandfather)

was burned there. He was carried in a

special bed tied to two logs. Before the

cremation, Teté was given a full bath.

Aama and many other women sang

sad songs. One man from each family

came with a piece of log and they all

walked with him. Women were not

allowed. Someone arranged the logs
and Teté was placed on top. Aau and
the uncles performed puja. Diwakar

was quite young and cried when they

ignited the logs. He stood with his
aaté at the far end. Though Pravin was

quiet he could see tears in his eyes

too. Someone sharpened a log with an

axe. Aau took it and drove it straight

into the skull of Teté.

Diwakar was shocked. He

clutched his brother’s shirt and asked,

“Why is he hitting him?”

“He must break the skull, or
else Teté’s soul will not escape to
heaven and will remain trapped. He

will become a ghost and live in a tree

forever.”
Though he had heard stories

about ghosts, Diwakar was too young

to understand the meaning of soul.

For him, the presence of his Teté was

more important and he did not mind if

he existed as a ghost. He was sure that

Teté would do him no harm and

continue telling stories. He hated his

aau for quite some time and would
not speak with him for days.
 ***

The sun came from the left,

rising above the granite peaks.
Sheaths of sunlight reached them and

cut across the poplar and oak leaves

turning the sleeping dew into

sparkling beads. The light fell on the

opposite peak and graced the snow;

the pines extended in long stretches

across the slope. This was a very

special peak and sacred to the

villagers. Beyond this peak was the
home of Devta. Once every three
years, Devta was carried there by

twelve men who covered the route in

seven days. Devta himself selected
these men. Lambs and a goat also

accompanied the party; they were

sacrificed on the way and cooked. But

only five men made the final journey.

The top of the hill held a divine lake.

Devta was taken there for a holy dip.

Grandpa told him the fairies lived

there. No one could go there and

return alive. The fairies kept him
forever. Grandpa was selected once
and had been there. Though he did not

see any fairies, his team encountered

two big brown bears and a leopard on
the way.

The pathway was now just a

narrow strip running along the side of

the mountain. They had covered four

kilometers and now the farmland was

giving way to valleys speckled with

boulders. They could see the distant

peaks standing gray and mysterious

against the vast blue backdrop. These
peaks had attracted Diwakar since
childhood. His motive to join the army

was more than the uniform or the

valor; it was these peaks. He knew
there were outposts on top that

overlooked the border. He had

dreamed many times of riding a horse

in full uniform from one post to the

other across snow-covered peaks. For

one full month, he prepared for the

exams. Every morning he ran five

kilometers and measured his time. He

was well within the limit. His only
worry was his chest, which fell an inch
short. But Devta was on his side.

During the physical check, he held his

breath and closed his eyes,
remembering him. His chest

expanded by two full inches and he

passed. The only barrier was the

written exam.
***

“Diwa, we have arrived,”

shouted Deepak, who was a bit ahead.

Deepak was almost the same

age as Diwakar. He had left school
after standard nine and was now
doing housework. Earlier he had run

away to Simla and, after working as a

porter in the station for a few months,
had come back. His brother Mohan

was standing with him and waving.

Shivam, the youngest one, was

midway. All four climbed down

through the boulders and bushes and

reached the riverbank. Wild roses,

thistles, and a few cactuses lined the

banks, as did a few pines that grew

from cones that had rolled down the
peaks or been carried by the river. The
valley was wide here and the river

shallow. It was beneath these rocks

where the trout waited patiently for
food that came with the river.

Everyone except Shivam rolled

up his sleeves. Shivam was a trainee

and had joined them for the fun of it.

Diwakar hopped across the rocks until

he reached the middle of the stream.

The sun shown through the clear

water and reached the sands below,

creating patterns where the water
was still. He positioned himself on a
rock and dipped his hands in from

both sides of the rock. Immediately he

felt the pain. The ice-cold water sent
shockwaves through his body; his face

turned red. It took a few seconds and

then with firm determination, he

dipped them in farther until he

reached the bottom. His hands moved

inward from both sides of the rock but

there was nothing there. If there were

a fish, he would have felt it instantly.

Not every rock sheltered a fish. He
checked once again and then removed
his hands. Others were on the job too

and one by one they checked all the

possible rocks. No luck. The team
moved farther upstream and started

exploring again. And then Deepak

shouted, “I think I have one here!”

Everyone looked at him in

anticipation. He was on a big rock and

was slowly feeling with his hands. And

then he took out the fish, a medium-

sized trout still wriggling in his tight

grip.
“Great catch baya (brother)!”
said Diwakar.

Deepak crossed to the

riverbank and smacked the fish hard
against a rock.

“Shivam, put it in the bag,” he

said and went back to work.

Another hour passed and four

more trout were caught. Meanwhile,

the team moved farther ahead and

was close to Mastarang, where the

army maintained a small outpost.

Mastarang provided abundant
boulders to contractors and green
pastures for the cattle. It had a dense

pine forest that was also the home for

leopards. Dogs guarded the herd of
cows and sheep while wide metal

collars protected the dogs from

surprise attacks by the leopards.

Three more fish were caught

and Deepak said, “I think that will be

all for today. My hands are numb and I

can’t feel anything.”

“Yes,” Diwakar said, “enough

for today!”
All of them sat on rocks and
placed their hands inside their shirts

and jackets. It took quite some time

before sensation returned. Shivam
gathered branches to build a fire. They

huddled together and put their hands

as close as possible to the fire.

Diwakar first handed out the peanuts

and apples and then roasted the fish

one by one, keeping two aside.

Everything tasted good and all of

them were content. They stretched

out on the rocks and soaked up the
sun.
 Nisha was drying the peas in

the afternoon sun when Diwakar came

home. Parvati had gone to the temple
to make poltus (fried pancakes) and

Ria was at school.

“Where have you been? Aama

was worried.”
Diwakar smiled and waved her

inside. Nisha came in and he placed

the fish on the table and looked at her.

She had never seen trout but knew it

required great effort and pain to catch
one.
 “Why did you go to so much

trouble?” she asked with a

combination of admiration and
genuine concern.

“For you,” said Diwakar with a

contented smile.

“Let me see your hands.” She

covered his hands with her own.

Diwakar felt the comforting

warmth and wished she would hold

his hands forever. Nisha had a sisterly

affection toward him while Diwakar
was stumbling in love.
 Nisha pulled back after a few

seconds and said, “I will make tea for

you.”
“No tea for me, I am going out.

Cook the fish well and we will have

tonight.”

Diwakar went out. Very soon

he was on the road walking aimlessly.

He was in high spirits.

Nisha looked at the fish—she

knew that Diwa must have gone to

great lengths to get them. She smiled
to herself as she remembered Pravin
giving her a bunch of flowers at Peo

during their second meeting. It was a

simple bunch of dahlias but she kept it
close to her all night, and the night

after. It was her first gift from a man, a

special man, with whom she would

spend the rest of her life, to whom she

would dedicate her body, her soul, and

her thoughts—around whom she

would build her own special world of

love, happiness, and more. After the

flowers dried, she kept them inside
her very special book—a thin, worn-
out book given to her by her aaya—a

book on mythology—the story of Lord

Shiva. She had taken the flowers out
only a few times and held them close

to her bosom, closing her eyes while

thanking her gods for helping Pravin

to find her.
Ria came back from school. She

changed and came to Nisha.

“Is it true that boys only prefer

fair girls?”
“Who says so?” said Nisha with
a smile.
 “Most of my friends tell me

that.”
“They are wrong, Ria. Girls who
are dark are equally desirable.”

Ria gave her a doubtful glance

and walked away. She looked at the

peaks far away. She knew there was a

land beyond the peaks at the end of

the road. She knew that one day she

would meet her love and he would

take her out of this place to that land

where there were cars, fairs, girls in
jewels and constant fun. So far, she
hadn’t met him, but there was a young

man who often stole a look and even

smiled at her once. He was in standard
ten and had long hair. She made it a

point to wait outside school everyday

until he crossed her path. He was

normally in a group but Ria knew that

he would glance back. She went inside

and switched on the TV.

Parvati reached the temple. A

puja occurred nearly every month and

everyone shared the work in turns.
Parvati was spiritual to the core and
never missed such chores. Moreover,

the family earnings were not enough

to substitute such duties with
donations like many did. She met

Jayshree at the temple who smiled

and greeted her. Jayshree was close to

her and was married to Shevak’s

second and fourth brother and the

mother of four children, two by each

of her husbands. The family had the

largest portion of the land among

Shevak’s brothers. In the village,
common marriage was still in practice
among many families and a custom

followed since primeval times.

Parvati returned from the
temple with the lamb and kid

following her. She entered the kitchen

with a few poltus, which she had

brought for everyone. Then she

noticed the fish. It was a welcome

sight, a break from the pancakes and

cabbages and radishes. She could

figure out where Diwa had been all

morning.
Nisha entered the kitchen with
a worried look. “Aama, I have never

cooked fish before.”

“Not to worry, I will teach you.
But first we need to clean them.”

She got on the job and very

soon, the fish were cleaned and cut

into pieces. Parvati cooked a delicious

curry with garlic, turmeric and dried

red chilies. All the while Nisha stayed

by her side.

“Does your elder son love

fish?”
“Yes, very much. Both the
brothers and their father love fish.”

“Then I must learn it well.”

She memorized every step so
that she could cook fish easily should

Pravin ever ask her. They also cooked

rice. Parvati knew that it was the third

time in two weeks that the family was

having rice and that there could be no

more that month. She remembered

her childhood days when rice was

cooked only twice or thrice a year and

that was on special occasions. Her
father, along with others, had carried
rice on their backs from as far away as

Rampur. There were no roads and it

took three days to make the trip.
Shevak came back and smelled

fish the moment he entered the

kitchen. The kitchen was more like a

living room, as everyone preferred to

stay close to the fire. There were a few

pots, plates, sacks of buckwheat, and

sheepskins on the floor. Nothing

more. Diwakar came in and sat in one

corner. Parvati took out the plates and
called Ria. Shevak got the largest
piece. Parvati passed an equally large

piece to Diwakar but he refused it.

“Aama, I have already had one.
Why not give this one to Nisha? She

has never had one!”

“Give it to Ria,” Nisha said.

Parvati kept it aside. Though

Nisha was skeptical about a fish she

knew nothing about, she remained

silent. Ria said nothing. Food was not

important; she wanted to finish

quickly and watch her favorite
programs on TV. There was silence
and everyone relished the dinner.

Shevak got up and said, “You

two must finish eating fast. The Devta
will be out tonight.”

Parvati set up two dishes for

her and Nisha and asked, “Now who is

in trouble?”
“Sushil,” said Shevak. “He went

to get firewood beyond the rest house.

While coming back, three dwarf-sized

ghosts chased him. He ran, but they

were faster. But when they reached
him, they simply disappeared!”
 “So, what is the problem now?”

asked Parvati innocently.

“You idiot! You don’t
understand that they entered him? He

has been speaking incoherently since

evening. And now Devta is going to

take them out.”

Parvati nodded and waved at

Nisha to finish off the dinner fast. She

was a strong believer in ghosts and

she knew fish was one thing that

attracted them.
A few moments later, they
could hear drums and cymbals. Devta

was out on his mission.

“Switch off all the lights and
close the windows,” Parvati

whispered. She knew that once the

ghost was out of the affected person it

would try to get into the nearest

visible house. It was better to stay

under the cover of darkness. She

started reciting hymns and names of

gods and goddesses in a low voice.

Everyone sat in the darkness. The only
glow came from the bukhari and
Shevak’s bidi.

Although Nisha had never

encountered a ghost, she was not
afraid. In her village, there was only

one ghost, which stayed in the pipul

tree on the outskirts. He was not

harmful except to girls and women

who kept their hair untied. But she

knew that there was a ghost in Peo.

During her stay there, everyone kept

the doors and windows closed and

switched off lights for a full seven days
during a particular time of the year.
One of her friends told her that this

was the time when a ghost was taken

out to do the rounds in the city. And
anyone who tried to see him died

instantly. Other times of the year, he

was chained and locked in a special

temple next to the Mother Goddess.

The Goddess was also taken out in the

procession so she could stop him

from doing any harm.

Diwakar sat in one corner

fiddling with his cell phone. Parvati
looked at him and said, “Now, don’t
start playing songs!”

“I can play songs that will drive

them away.”
Parvati looked confused. She

did not understand this gadget

properly. She could never use it even

after Diwa tried to explain it to her.

She also hated it, as she knew that

young boys and girls kept in touch

with such phones.

After awhile, she said in a low

voice, “We should never joke about
them!”
 Ria was scared and sat close to

Nisha. “Let’s go to bed,” she said

clutching her shawl.
“Don’t worry, I am here with

you.”
She started cleaning the plates

and, looking at Diwakar, said, “The

fish was real good.”

Shevak gave a long puff and

threw the bidi inside the bukhari.

Parvati frowned; as for her, fire was a

god too. And this was an insult to her
god. But she preferred to stay silent.
 “We had much bigger fish

during our time. The river was wide

and we could catch as many as we
wanted. Now you get big fish only at

the trout farm in Sangla. But who will

pay so much?” Shevak shrugged.

Parvati got up. She did not

approve of discussing fish when there

were three ghosts roaming freely

outside. She left for the bedroom. But

before she left, she lit an incense stick

and placed it near the door. This was
to conceal the fish smell. She also
decided to keep Devta’s photo under

her pillow in order to ward off any

unwanted visitors.
Shevak was upset with Parvati

cooking rice so many times. He knew

he could not afford to buy it with his

meager earnings. He kept quiet during

dinner but now he needed to speak his

mind.
“Why do you cook rice every

other day?” He looked at her frowning.

“It was for the fish. One cannot
eat fish with pancakes.”
 “Today it was fish, yesterday it

was meat and tomorrow it will be

something else. You fool! You always
find some dumb reason to spend my

hard earned money!” He fumed,

paused, and then said, “If you ask me

to get rice again, I will kick you out of

the house.”

Parvati kept silent, as she was

afraid that he would start throwing

things at her and might even beat her

up if he got into a mad fit.
“You better ask your dead
father to get a full sack for the donkey

he dumped on me,” Shevak fumed.

Parvati felt relieved as he
stretched on his bed and pulled the

blanket over him. She turned away as

a few tears escaped from her eyes and

soaked into her pillow.

Ria was scared of the ghosts and

asked Nisha to switch off the lights as

she hid under the blanket. In bed, Ria

moved closer to Nisha and pulled the

blanket up over her head. She put one
arm across her. Outside, there was an
eerie silence. She could not sleep.

“Will you tell me a story,

Nisha?”
“I don’t know many stories.”

“Tell me something about your

village.”

“It’s a small village, like all the

others. There isn’t much to tell.”

“You had a dog. Tell me about

him.”

Nisha brightened with the

thought of Sheru. “Sheru was a brave
dog. Once when he was young a
leopard came at night to attack our

cattle. Sheru was scared but climbed a

young poplar tree and started barking.
Being young, his bark was faint and it

took us a while to hear it before we

went out. We saw him clinging to a

branch while the leopard clawed on

the trunk with his huge paws.” Nisha

paused.
“What happened then?”

“My father and uncles ran out

and chased the leopard away. By
morning, everyone knew the story and
Sheru had visitors.”

“Did Sheru bite people?”

“Never! Sheru loved people and
especially children. He always stayed

close to my brother, even on long

walks.”

Ria wondered if they should

get a dog. It was not a bad idea but

aama would never allow it. A dog had

a conflict with her religious views for

reasons best known to her. Maybe

when Ria married she would ask her
husband to keep one. A dog fit her
vision of life at the end of the road. A

small house far away from the village

where there would be a courtyard
with apple trees, a swing below a tree

with pink blossoms, and a dog

following her wherever she went.

And then they heard the gongs

and cymbals again. His job done, the

Devta must be going back. In the other

room, Parvati folded her hands and

prayed to God. She hoped that the evil

spirits would be sent far away across
the peaks. She decided to call the
Lama in a few days to recite hymns.

This would not only usher in peace

but also keep such spirits away. Like
all others in the village, Parvati had

equal faith in Buddhism and the

Devta. Her parents were a mixed lot.

Her grandmother was from Tibet and

made everyone follow both religions.

Parvati was her given name while a

Lama christened her with a different

name, one adopted from the Buddhist

scriptures. Her name was difficult to
pronounce and her parents called her
Parvati after the name of the wife of

Lord Shiva (the god of creation and

destruction and lord of the animals).
In the village, the names and

surnames had nothing to do with

family lines. The names could be

anything; except for official purpose,

everyone used the surname “Negi” to

be identified with the tribal clan they

belonged to.

Shevak sat close to the fire and

looked at his son. Diwakar sat in one
corner with his cell phone.
 “There is no news of Chotu. I

cannot get in touch with him. The fool

has kept his phone switched off.”
“But he should be in Peo.”

“I checked with your Mamaji,

and he said that he left a few days

back for Solan.”

“What is he doing in Solan?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have any

contacts there.”

“Do you want me to call his

friends?”
“Why waste money on a fool?”
 Shevak was not in favor of

Pravin finding any sort of employment

outside his village. He was practical.
He knew that he would not last long

with his temper. But he also knew that

the land he had was not good enough

for two brothers. One of them had to

leave to find work. He preferred that

Diwakar be the traveler, not only

because he was levelheaded, but also

because he was sincere. “Tomorrow,

collect the railway form from Dawa.
Fill it out properly and give it back to
him.”

Dawa worked for the railways.

He got his job under the tribal quota
and was in good graces with his boss.

He said that this year there was a

good chance to get a few village boys

in.
“The exams are later this year.

If you begin to prepare now it will not

be difficult.”

Diwakar nodded. He was

worried for his aaté. He understood
his brother to some extent. He knew
that his efforts were focused on the

wellbeing of the family. He silently

prayed for his success.
That night Diwakar had a

dream. He dreamed of riding a horse

with Nisha behind him. A white horse

glided across the valleys in easy

stride. And then it hit the river

splashing water. Nisha had her arms

around him in a strong hold. They

crossed valleys and went far away, to

a place no one had gone before. By
evening, they reached a forest. The
horse reached a stream and then it

stopped. The place had trees with

orange and yellow flowers. Birds and
birdsong filled their senses. Both got

down and drank water from the

stream and then sat in a clearing.

Darkness fell but soon the full moon

was up. Nisha looked like a fairy in the

silvery moonlight. He gathered some

branches and lit a fire. Then they

heard distant drums. Nisha got up and

danced as if she were in a primitive
trance. Diwakar sat near the fire and
watched in wonder. And when she was

tired, she came to him.

He said, “You sleep now, while I
keep watch.”

Nisha sat on a rock next to him.

Diwakar kissed her eyes and soon she

was asleep.
 Chapter 5

It was the first day of Fulaich, the annual

festival of flowers. The entire village

was in a festive mood. Early in the

morning, three boys selected by Devta

left for the high peaks to collect rare

flowers, the white brahma kamal and the
blue larkspur. The festival would

continue for three days.

Boys and girls put on their best

jackets with green topis decorated

with small white flowers. Men dressed
in traditional gray jackets and green

topis roamed the village in high

spirits, some already drunk while

others were waiting to get drunk.
Nearly every festival had a free flow of

meat and liquor and most of the men

drank to their hearts content,

sometimes breaking down,

sometimes fighting, sometimes

simply crying aloud or laughing.

Shevak sat drinking tea at

Lalaji’s shop. He was watching Ravi, a
Nepali day laborer who earned just
enough to keep his head above water.

He was of the habit of beating his

young wife daily. He had serious
doubts that she slept with his boss,

the supervisor, while he was on duty.

He was strong and stout but had a foul

mouth. But today he was jovial. It did

not matter if the festival was local. He

was working here and wanted to have

a share of the fun. And since it was a

three-day holiday, he had drunk a full

bottle in the morning. He lost one
shoe somewhere and now stood with
only one shoe on. He started

introducing every visitor to the shop

in an amusing style. Balbir was
coming back from the tailor with a

new jacket that was specially made for

the festival. Ravi stopped him on the

road.
“Here goes our Lord Krishna,

the great sarathi (Chariot Driver).” He

touched his feet, stretching fully on

the road.
He did not spare Shevak. “Here
sits Lord Indra with Bajra (thunder) in
his hand.” Shevak worked with the

electricity board.
At home, Parvati and Nisha put
on their gray dhurries (heavy gray

blankets), which they wrapped around

their whole bodies. On top, they put

on shawls with colorful borders.

Parvati had a shawl with three

borders that her mother had given

her. The more borders, the more

expensive it was. Nisha’s shawl had

one border, but she looked charming
in whatever she wore. They also put
on necklaces with large gold beads

and earrings. Nisha normally wore a

nose-ring, which highlighted her
sharp features. Nisha looked at the

mirror and felt sad. What good it is for

her to dress so well if Pravin never

saw it? She wanted to see the smile in

his face—the same smile she saw

when once she dressed for him to visit

the monastery at Peo. Pravin was a

man of few words but she could tell

from his eyes. Both Parvati and Nisha
started for the temple. Ria was already
gone and playing with the other young

people.
It was afternoon when Devta
came out. Bugles, cymbals, and drums

preceded the procession; two bearers

carried him in his seat. The main

pujari (priest), the Gur, followed

Devta, while a few more people went

behind with two sheep. Devta came

out of the village and soon crossed to

the other side of the river. He rested

on a hill near a small shrine, which
was empty of gods or idols inside.
This shrine represented a powerful

god, more powerful than Devta, once

worshipped by a saint who came in a
white robe. His power was visible, as

there were no snakes on this side of

the river. It was late afternoon and a

fog slowly floated in. The shrine party

set up a small tent and arranged logs

for the fire. A few women mixed wheat

flour with water for making poltu.

Shevak walked along with

other folks to the venue. He was
wearing his gray jacket and green topi
and had shaved that morning. After

Dawa gave him a haircut, he helped

Dawa with one. The group reached the
venue and squatted on the grass.

Nearly all the men were there and

sitting in groups—some in rocks near

the river, some near the Devta—while

the young roamed around freely. Only

a few girls were there. The village

custom did not allow women to take

part in rituals and they always

remained slightly removed from the
Devta unless advised otherwise by the
Gur.

Two men got up and raised

their brass bugles in the air. The
curved bugles glistened in the evening

like two giant snakes. Their high-

pitched sounds pierced the silence of

the surrounding peaks. A bunch of

barbets flapped their wings and

escaped the comfort of their nests.

Everyone looked up and saw the three

men running down the hillside. The

drummers started beating their
drums, intoxicating the crowd in a
slow beat. The bearers lifted Devta

while everyone moved in to the venue.

Soon, the three men came down, each
carrying a bundle of flowers wrapped

in a cloth. They all wore topis

bedecked with white flowers.

The flower boys reached the

shrine, where the pujari met them.

Two men took the sheep to the shrine.

Darkness set in; a light drizzle kissed

the venue; the beat increased while

the bugles and cymbals accompanied
in high pitch; flowers were offered at
the shrine; the two bearers danced

with Devta on their shoulders and

everyone clapped in unison. One went
forward with a long machete; the beat

increased; one man held one sheep by

the ear to keep it still; the machete

came down in one great sweep, and

then again; two sheep heads rolled

while the bodies shuddered for a few

moments before they lay still, the

blood dripping on the floor of the

shrine. The age-old mountains
observed the primitive ritual.
 Diwakar sat alone on the rocks

next to the river. He could see

everything from there. He did not like
the animal sacrifice part and did not

understand why every festival called

for the sacrifice of innocent animals.

But now the sacrifice was over so he

moved in closer. It was getting dark

and the only light came from the huge

fire on which the meat was being

cooked. The flames occasionally

escaped the sides of the vessel and
licked the darkness. Devta was seated
in the middle. Everyone sat in circles

on the grass. The drums only slowed

down a beat. Soon the two women
came and served poltu, two for each.

Then the women came with liquor,

which they poured into the clasped

hands of the men. The women made

the rounds, serving until the stock was

exhausted.
In the darkness, Diwakar got up

silently. He had his share of poltu but

was in no mood to have meat. He left
for home. He did not feel like going to
the shrine.

Shevak sat with others while

waiting for the meat to be served.
Others were feeling light-headed, but

he was his normal self.

Naresh looked at him and said,

“Why don’t you have a drink, Shevak?

Today is auspicious and it’s an

offering from Devta!”

Shevak did not say anything; he

just smiled. He knew it was a useless

to explain.
“One sip would not make much
difference,” Naresh said again while

the others looked on.

He was a true exception.
Shevak looked around and saw

everyone looking at him awaiting an

answer.

“I am okay with my bidi,” he

said. “I don’t drink or take things that

make me lose control of my feet and

tongue.”

“Rightly said,” quipped Arvind.

“I also drink within limits.”
Everyone rolled in laughter, as
all knew how big a drunk Arvind was.

Only the other day he had kissed his

mother-in-law, taking her to be his
wife, and gotten a stinging slap.

The drummers beat their

drums and everyone stood up. Devta

led the way with his two bearers and

all followed. The procession went

from one corner of the village to the

other, touching every house on its

way with the message of harvest and

happiness.
Then all headed for the temple
shrine, which was lit with lamps on all

corners. The women sat on the broad

steps at the far end of the compound.
Nisha sat next to Parvati. Ria played

with other girls in the compound. Two

boys wrestled and rolled in the

middle. A group of boys sat in a group

and sang a popular Hindi number in

chorus. Mahavir and Kishori, the two

deaf men, used hand gestures to chat

with each other. Elders sat in one

corner puffing bidis. A few women
cooked poltus, while a few others
guarded the cans of liquor. Dogs

barked at a distance and then

everyone heard the drums. Soon, the
party reached the temple and rested

Devta in the middle. The drums,

cymbals, and bugles changed hands.

Women came down from the steps

and formed a chain holding hands.

Men also formed a chain and then

everyone danced in matching steps in

slow rhythm, the two groups moving

in opposite directions, a few steps
forward then one step backward.
Shevak now had a drum and was

beating it in unison with others.

The dance went on until
midnight and then everyone needed a

break. Liquor flowed and half the men

were drunk. Someone went and got

biscuits from Lalaji’s shop. Someone

else distributed candies. And then

someone said, “Let’s dance.”

And everyone shouted, “Let’s

dance!”
While a few got up on their
own, a few had to be helped. Parvati
pulled Nisha close and whispered,

“Let’s go back home, I’m tired.”

Nisha felt relieved. She was a
bit uncomfortable. She waved at Ria in

the far corner of the compound. Ria

was upset. She was able to find her

longhaired boy and was sitting with

her friends opposite him, exchanging

glances all along. Today she had

dressed in her best, used extra layers

of lipstick and powder, and had

plaited her hair with great care. This
was a special day. She was in no mood
to leave early. She walked up to

Shevak.
“Aau, can you take me home
later?” she asked Shevak.

“No, you must go now,” Shevak

said politely.

Ria had no choice but to follow

Nisha and Parvati. She glanced back

for one last time and saw the boy

waving at her. She waved back and ran

toward home.
Diwakar woke up to the sound
of footsteps. Ria came in first; she was
humming a tune. She went inside and

closed the door. Parvati came in, saw

Diwakar sleeping, and left for her
room. Nisha came in last; she found

the door closed from inside and

assumed Ria must be changing. And

then she saw Diwakar. She walked up

to him and pushed gently.

“Are you sleeping?” she asked

in a low voice.

Diwakar opened his eyes.

Nisha was standing close. Her face
was moist. A few strands of hair had
escaped her topi and hung loose.

“Are you sleeping?” she asked

again but now with a smile.
“No, I am dreaming that a fairy

is standing close to me,” Diwakar said,

returning her smile.

“You should have gone today.”

“I was not in the mood, and I

have a long day tomorrow.” Diwakar

was in the team selected by Devta to

fetch flowers for the Mother Goddess.

But it was a different hill and a
difficult climb.
 Nisha left with a smile and

Diwakar watched how gracefully she

carried herself.
In the room, Nisha stood at the

window for a while and looked at the

night sky. She missed Pravin and

thought about him. In her village,

there was no such festival and it was

Pravin who first told her about this

celebration with flowers. Nearly

everyone in the village who was

married was present with their
spouses except her. She decided to
ask him to stay next year during the

festival.
***
Dayawanti was in good mood.

It was rare she got a leave from the

shop. But yesterday she danced to her

heart’s content at the temple. The next

morning she was up in time to open

the shop. Lalaji always came late. For

him home was just a place to sleep. He

did almost all his daily chores in the

shop and behind it. Dayawanti swept
the area in front of the shop and
chased a stray cow away with her

broom. Stray animals were always

after the vegetables displayed and
munched on anything if no one

noticed. The shop was fully stocked, as

people spent money during festivals

on biscuits, candy, bubble-gum,

plastic bangles, peanuts, wafers,

sweetmeats, and more. The main

earning came from the contractors

who picked up monthly rations for the

laborers. Prakash was the first
customer.
 “Sister, please make me some

tea. And give me some biscuits also.”

“Take a seat; it will be ready in
a moment.”

“Did you have a nice time

yesterday?” asked Prakash, smiling.

“Yes, but see? While the whole

village is sleeping, I am up doing the

donkey work!”
“You enjoy doing it.”

“Who says? It’s only that I have

no other choice. Aau should have sent
me to the Gompa when I was young. A
nun’s life is a much better life.” She

came from a Tibetan family who

settled here a few generations back. “I
am paying for my past life’s sin.”

Prakash kept quite and lit a

bidi. He could see a few villagers on

the road with their herds of cows.

***

Diwakar got up and took a

quick shower. He put on his brown

jacket, green topi and shoes. Parvati

gave him pancakes and pickles while
Nisha gave him a glass of hot milk.
 “Be careful and don’t run fast

or else you will break your legs,” said

Parvati.
“You think I am a child? The

blessings of Devta will be with me.”

Parvati opened a can and gave

him some nuts.

Diwakar got up and waved

good-bye to everyone. “I will see you

all at the temple,” he shouted from the

gate.
Outside, two other men were
waiting. The three went to the temple
to seek blessings from Devta. Today

was the day for Mother Goddess and

they would go up the hill beyond
which she originated. The road

started at the back of the village. It ran

parallel to the stream that served as a

source of water for the entire village.

The initial climb was easy. There was

a narrow pathway often used by the

villagers. Emerald patches of grass

covered the route with small marsh

marigolds popping out here and there
in clusters. The stream ran down
silently except for some sparkling

protests against a few boulders in its

way. Villagers also diverted part of the
stream with boulders in order to

serve another location where they had

their winter homes. Very soon, they

crossed the hillock and were on top of

a clear opening.

“Let’s take a short break,” said

Kiran, one of the boys. This was his

second time making the trip.

Others nodded and everyone
sat on the rocks. Diwakar looked
around and could see that the village

was not visible from where they were,

although he could see the road. He
could also see the distant peaks with

meadows on them. From a distance, a

herd of roaming sheep seemed like

white dots. In front of them stood the

dark granite peak in all its majesty.

The top was sharp and jagged, eroded

by the wind for a million years. The

pathway ran through a dense pack of

deodars and oaks.
***
 Ria was up early and, to

everyone’s surprise, took a shower.

She knew she had to go early. She was
sure the boy would be there waiting

for her. She hoped that he would

speak with her. Before she fell asleep

the night before, she had rehearsed a

hundred times; what she would say;

how he would react; what could go

wrong; how she would correct it. She

went over it again and again until she

was sure she had the perfect lines. She
also made certain that she would not
do or say anything that gave away

how deeply she was in love with him.

“Aama, give me food, I have to
leave soon.”

“Why so early? There’s no one

at the temple now.”

“My friends will be there.”

Parvati gave her food. She was

in no mood to deliberate. She loved

watching her daughter grow up as

much as she loved all her children.

Sometimes she took a few rupees
from her savings to buy a packet of
maggi for her, just to see the smile on

her face whenever she served her

noodles.
“Aama, give me two rupees, I

need to buy something.” She needed

to buy a strip of bindis. She planned to

show off her striped red jacket that

came with a red hood. Her friends said

she looked awesome in that outfit.

Only a red bindi was missing. Ria did

not have the typical Kinnauri look. Her

face partly reflected her mother’s
Tibetan lineage. She had a round, oval
face with narrow eyes, which mostly

disappeared when she laughed. But

there was an innocent glow about her
that radiated when she spoke.

***
Diwakar stood up; they

couldn’t sit for long. The three moved

up the narrow path, one behind the

other. Huge boulders lay on either

side of the trail. Sunlight came

through the greenery, and finches and

wagtails hopped around in the grass
looking for food. Yellow and blue
poppies, wooly and furry catmints

peeked through the grass and violets

braced the sunny underside of the
rocks. A group of langurs screeched in

the distance. Diwakar saw one sitting

on an oak tree observing them, its

white, silvery body with black face and

long tail etched against the sky. The

langurs fed on oak leaves and young

shoots. They were afraid of humans

and lived away from villages.

A while later, the men reached
another bend and a clearing where
they stopped. It was noon and all of

them were thirsty. They went down to

the stream for water. Diwakar passed
on nuts to his friends. They sat on a

huge rock next to the stream. The

mountain was near. A rhododendron

stood proud with its pink blossoms.

The grass was tall and wild. Ahead

there was no road but only the stream

to follow.

It was afternoon when they

reached the top. The last part of the
climb was a bit tough. They had to
make it through boulders, sometimes

crawling, sometimes leaping, and

sometimes clenching grasses and
bushes to pull themselves along. The

top was flat with just a few trees.

From a distance, the grass looked as if

it changed color from emerald to light

green. The brahma kamal formed

clusters of white. They were in full

bloom, the outer petals, greenish

white while the inside was pink.

Neelam, who was the youngest in the
team, started picking flowers while
Diwakar and Kiran looked around.

They had to move a bit farther before

they saw the beautiful larkspur with
translucent blue petals standing

among the wild grass. These flowers

only blossomed during this time of

the year. Both started collecting and

piling them on a large cloth. Once they

had enough, the cloth was tied up and

they took a final break. It was late

afternoon and they had to go down

before sunset. This area was also
home to leopards, but they normally
kept to the trees. Each took one bunch

on his back and started down. They

had to be careful while descending
with a load, but they were accustomed

to it. All of them had been born here

and the hills were part of their daily

life.
***

Ria reached the temple. On the

way, she had met her friend Lila who

accompanied her. Both sat on the

stairs. The temple looked deserted,
although they could imagine the
sound of drums and cymbals that

would soon be there. A few children

played on the compound. Ria took out
the strip of bindi and asked Lila to

help her with one. She gave her one

too. She was a bit upset, as there was

no sign of the young man. She

expected him to be there. A few more

children came but not the young man

she was expecting. And then she saw

him coming through the outer door.

There were two more men with him.
They walked straight to where Ria and
her friend were sitting. Her heart

started beating and she was afraid

Lila would be able to hear. They
turned at the last moment and took a

seat not far from them. While passing,

the boy glanced at her and smiled. Ria

blushed but then looked the other

way.

Her friend smelled something

and said, “What are you hiding from

me? I can see you are blushing.”

“Nothing,” Ria said, looking the
other way.
 “I don’t believe you,” she said

with a light push.

“Okay, I will tell you, but do you
promise not to tell anyone?”

“I am your best friend; you can

trust me.”

“You see that boy in the center

in the orange shirt and blue jeans?”

“Yes, what about him?”

“He is the boy I told you about.”

Lila looked again but now with

more interest. He was an average
young man but smart in looks. She
smiled at Ria and pinched her lightly.

Nisha and Parvati reached the

temple before the sun went down. A
crowd had gathered and everyone was

getting ready. Earlier, a group of men

had already left to meet the three boys

halfway. There they prepared long

flower sticks with vines and flowers.

The news reached them that they

were ready and the drummers stood

up. Devta went ahead to meet the

team. Behind him went a group of
men dressed traditionally wearing
long gowns, umber in color, and black

hats made of cloth that made them

look somewhat like primitive Chinese
tribesmen. They were dressed in a

manner preserved over generations

and used only for this occasion. And

behind all went the married women in

groups, all wearing shawls with black-

and-white checks over their dhurrie.

Nisha went with Parvati. The party

reached the venue and then the

drums, bugles, and cymbals raised the
pitch and tempo as if to greet them.
The men in front danced, forming

small chains of three and four, and the

boys danced with the flower sticks,
throwing them up in the air and

catching them again. The women

started singing age-old songs in a

chorus and everyone started back

toward the temple.

Nisha looked at Diwakar,

whose topi was decked in flowers, his

eyes gleaming, a smile of content and

achievement on his youthful face.
Their eyes met and he blinked. The
team reached the temple and formed

a long chain that ran around the

compound. Then the dance started.
The team dressed traditionally blew

on age-old trumpets while someone

played a tune on an organ. The

drummers accompanied the trumpets

and organ and the whole group

danced to the rhythm in a slow trance,

moving around the temple. Devta

danced with them. The flower boys

threw the sticks up high and then
caught them. Diwakar watched Nisha
blend with the group yet stand out

with her graceful movements. He

walked boldly to her and took out a
bunch of larkspur that he had kept

carefully in his pocket. While she

danced, he placed them on the corner

of her topi. He smiled and went back.

And the hills danced with the sound of

hidden tremors.
Nisha danced mechanically

with the group—she saw the men in

front also dancing hand in hand—it
was dark with light coming only from
the torches near the temple. She

imagined Pravkar in the group and

smiled. She started dancing with a
new vigor as if the spirit of the festival

was truly within her. She swayed with

the group, undulating with the

primitive tune floating over the

compound. Diwakar looked in awe

from a distance.
The spirit of Devta meanwhile

had entered one of the men. He moved

in front of the group. He was the Devta
now; his mouth was sealed with a
silver needle piercing the flesh of his

cheeks but without a drop of blood!

The Devta started telling the story of
yesteryear, of past glory in wars, and

more. He explained how he founded

the village, how he fought the

enemies, how he protected the people

from the rains, snow, flood, and

ferocious animals. The mountains

listened at a distance. It was the story

of his own people.

 Chapter 6

Pravin sat in one corner of the tea shop.

He had been in Solan for the last few

days and his purse was much lighter now.

In Peo, there had been no expenses

because he stayed with Mamaji, who

even gave him a hundred-rupee note
before he left for Solan. It was under his

friend’s advice that he moved here.

Mamaji said the chances for finding a job
were good as this was a large city. In

Peo, he had met almost everyone on

Mamaji’s list of references. No one had a

job for an electrician who lacked

experience. He did not feel disappointed

but consulted Mamaji, who said the
timing was not good or he would have

put Pravin in some job in the company he

himself worked for.

The first two days in Solan, he

slept in the local temple. He had a light

blanket that he used as a bed sheet

and a cover. But now there was a

problem. The police had come in last
night and picked up a man sleeping a
few feet away from him. Others said

this happened quite often as the

police needed to produce someone to
blame for many unsolved crimes. The

tea shop was in one corner of the

temple and close to the bus stand. He

met Raju there, a boy from a nearby

village. Raju studied until six when he

left home for a job. Raju was working

in the tea shop for a small sum but

was on the lookout for a better job.

The owner gave Raju a small corner in
the storeroom to sleep. And though it
was full of dirt and rats, Raju accepted

it because he had a roof over his head.

Raju told Pravin he would not mind if
he wanted to share his place for a few

days.
Pravin got up for his morning

ritual. For the last two days, he had

been trying to meet this friend of

Mamaji’s. He had called him and gone

to his office. The gatekeeper said he

was busy. Pravin did not understand

how a person could be busy for two
full days. He was not used to the
civilized ways of rejection. He waited

outside the office until late evening

but never got an audience with him.
Last night he had called Mamaji and

spoken with him. Mamaji assured

Pravin he would speak with his friend

and asked him to visit one last time.

He greeted the gatekeeper, “Namaste,

Uncle.”
The gatekeeper, Kishen Singh,

looked at Pravin. He had sympathy for

this boy who had waited patiently for
two days. His lips lifted in a smile
from under his huge gray handlebar

moustache and said, “So, you have

come again. Maybe today he will see
you. Sit in this stool while I inform

him.” He went inside and came back a

few minutes later. There was a faint

smile in his eyes.

“He will call you soon.”

Pravin was pleased but

remained quiet. He prayed silently

and asked for a glass of water. Kishen

looked at him for a while and then
went inside his small room.
He came back with his lunch box and

said, “You can have two rotis and keep

two for me. I will get you some tea.”
Pravin thought of refusing at

first but he was hungry. He survived

on a single slim meal of dal and rice

served at the temple in the morning.

And at night, he had two rotis from a

streetside shop that catered to

rickshaw and taxi drivers.

“What happens if he calls me?”

“I know him better; it will be
quite some time. You can have your
food.”

Pravin finished the food and

was having tea when the call came.
The gatekeeper wished him luck and

he went inside.
Pravin had never been to an

office before. A pretty girl guided him

inside and he found himself standing

at the end of a huge table overflowing

with papers. The man behind it wore

spectacles and was busy writing

something. He looked at him once and
continued with his scribbling.
 “Arun (Mamaji) called last

night and told me about you. But we

have already taken people for this
project.” He looked at him again.

“Any job will do, sir.”

“But you are an electrician.”

“I can do anything, sir.” It was

not in his nature, but he pleaded.

“I am sorry but I cannot help

you. Most of the laborers come from

the local union and I cannot take

someone directly. It will be a problem
for both of us.”
 Pravin did not fully understand

what he said. He stood there with a

blank look on his face.
“You can leave your name and

phone number. Someone will call you

if there is a vacancy. You can go now.”

The gatekeeper knew

immediately what had happened

when he saw Pravin coming out with a

long face. “Sit here and have one more

cup of tea.”
“No, I must leave now. I need to
find a job.”
 “Listen, I have a friend who

works for a building contractor. A few

days back he said they needed a few
helping hands. The pay is small, about

a hundred and twenty per day plus

extra money for extra time. But this

will help you sustain yourself.”

Pravin thought for a while. In

his village, the laborers from outside

made about a hundred and fifty to two

hundred per day. And this was not the

kind of work he was looking for.
“I will think about it.” He
thanked Kishen Singh profusely

before he left.
***
Raju waved when he saw

Pravin coming. He was glad to meet

someone who spoke his own

language. He set out a hot cup of tea.

“Brother, you don’t have to

pay; this is from my daily quota. But

first tell me, did you get the job?”

Pravin shook his head and sat

down, but before he could say
anything, a customer called and Raju
rushed to greet him.

Pravin sat quietly and thought.

He had to find a job; he did not have
much money left. It would only last for

a few more days.

Raju came back; he always had

a smile on his youthful face. “Brother,

you look depressed. Never lose hope.

Did you see that restaurant in the

corner? They need a helping hand in

the kitchen. It’s not a difficult job. I

suggest you go and meet the manager.
The pay is just okay but you get free
food. You can sleep in the kitchen or

you can share my bed,” he said in a

single breath before rushing away
again. It was a busy hour as one show

ended and another started in the

movie hall nearby.

Pravin thought for a while. He

knew a little about cooking; maybe he

should try his luck. Something was

better than nothing and more than

anything he needed food to live.

The manager was a middle-
aged man from Punjab. He was some
distant cousin of the owner and had

been running the show for the last

many years and knew his job well.
“You will get five hundred per

week for the first month and if you

learn the job and do it properly, you

will get more the next month. But if

you take leave, I will deduct from your

pay, so you better not take leave. The

cook will teach you everything. And

one last thing: everyone does

everything here. If this sounds okay,
you can start today.”
 Pravin met the cook, Vikram, a

man from Nepal who greeted him

with a smile. In his village, the Nepalis
were treated as outcasts. They mostly

served as laborers. He felt a bit

awkward working under a man from

Nepal but this was far from his village.

He smiled back.

The restaurant was a busy

place and served low cost, varied

meals from a small menu. It opened at

eight in the morning and closed at ten
at night. Pravin felt exhausted at the
end of the day. The smell of food was

getting to his head and he felt like

throwing up. He decided to sleep at
Raju’s place.

The tea stall was closing down

when Pravin reached it. The owner, an

old man, had already left. Raju was

washing the tea glasses but his face lit

up when he saw Pravin. “Aaté, just

give me a moment before I finish this

lot. I cannot rush. If I break any, the old

bastard will deduct the cost from my
pay.”
 Raju piled all the glasses

carefully; he then went inside and

took out four chapati’s (handmade
wheat breads) rolled in a newspaper.

They were stiff and dry; he looked at

Pravin and smiled. He brought a bowl

of milk and dipped them in the bowl.

“So, you got the job?”

Pravin smiled and said, “Yes,

thanks to you. The hours are long but I

can manage.”
“Do it as long as you want to
do. You can leave when you have a
better job.”

Raju closed the shutter and

waved at Pravin to follow him. On the
backside, a small lamp glowed in front

of a door. The storehouse was large

but there were other tenants. The old

man only kept a corner room for his

goods.

Raju unlocked the door and

said, “Welcome to my palace.”

It was a small room and Raju

had cleaned up one corner. The goods,
mainly a few sacks and tins, were
stacked on one side. A thick soiled rag

served as a mattress. A photo of Shiva,

a shirt and trousers neatly folded, and
a broken radio lay in the corner.

Pravin used his bag as the pillow. A

shaft of light came from a small

opening near the ceiling covered with

cobwebs. A low-powered bulb threw

shadows, which moved with them.

Pravin sat down; he was too tired to

think of anything. He took out his

blanket and both got under it. Soon he
was fast asleep.
 Raju got up early. Every

morning he opened the shop, but first

he had his very special tea with lots of
milk. Raju pushed Pravin who was still

sleeping.
“Aaté, we need to move.”

Pravin joined him and after

having tea, left for the restaurant. The

other staff was waiting outside. Pravin

stayed a bit aloof from everyone

except Vikram, who was friendly and

warm. He had been working here for
the last eight years. In his village in
Nepal, he had three daughters and

was saving money for their marriage.

He wore the same clothes every day
and only washed them on Sunday,

which was a holiday. His work was

routine. In the morning, he boiled

lentils and rice in a big vessel and

during this time, he chopped all the

garlic, onions, tomatoes, and chilies.

Boiled chicken was kept in the

refrigerator. According to orders from

customers, he mixed everything, then
added a few spices here and there. For
items marked “special,” he added a

spoon of butter on top and some

cardamoms. Pravin learned the tricks
very quickly. He took orders, helped

Vikram, and also served food during

rush hours. Everything went fine and

at night, he slept with Raju.

It was the second week when

an unruly group entered the

restaurant. It was rush hour and the

place was nearly full. The four took

seats and waved. Pravin took their
order but while returning to the
kitchen two men waved at him. They

also gave some orders. Pravin wrote

the orders down but while serving, he
got them mixed up. The four men

called him back.

“Is this what we ordered?”

“I think so, sir,” he said calmly.

“You think so? Do you have a

brain to think?” one of them shouted.

“You think we eat non-veg? We

are pure vegetarians and you served

us chicken, you scoundrel! How dare
you?” another said.
 “Stop yelling now! There must

be a mix-up,” Pravin said firmly.

“Look! He is not even sorry!”
the first man said.

The manager rushed to the

table.

“What is your problem?”

“This bastard served us

chicken and we are vegetarians.”

Pravin had had enough. He

pulled the first man up by his collar

and punched him in the face. The man
was too shocked to believe what
happened and for a moment, there

was total silence. The manager pulled

Pravin back but before he could say
anything, the four men got up and left.

The other customers were staring.

“Get lost now!” The manager

shoved Pravin toward the gate.

“But they were abusing me!”

“A customer has every right!

And it was your fault. Do you want to

ruin the reputation I built with so

much effort? Get going now. I don’t
want to see you here again.”
 Pravin had only a week’s pay

with him. He walked down the road,

still in a rage. He came to the tea stall
where he met Raju and told him what

happened.
“You did right, brother. We get

paid for our work, not to listen to

abuses. Don’t worry, you will find

something else.”
Pravin sat down and thought.

And then he remembered the

gatekeeper, Kishen Singh.
It was closing time when he
met Kishen Singh. Kishen gave him a

wide smile as if he were meeting a

long lost son.
“How have you been?”

“Not too good, Bhaiyaji.”

Pravin told him briefly about the last

few days and how he lost his job.

“Okay, give me some more

time. I will take you to my friend.”

After everyone left, Kishen

closed the gate and double locked it.

Both walked about a kilometer and
reached a construction site. His friend
Anil was seated with a group and

smoking bidi. He rose up and hugged

Kishen. Both came from the same
village in Bihar.

“Jai ho, Bhaiya! It’s been a long

time since I’ve seen you. Is everything

fine with you and Bhabi?”

“We are fine with blessings of

Ramji. This is Pravin and he is in

distress. Please give him some work.”

“I will surely do something.

How can I say no to you?”
He turned toward Pravin and
said, “Please come tomorrow

morning.” Pravin nodded and looked

at Kishen.
“Your job is done, my son,” he

said with a smile.

“Anil bhaiya, we will leave

now.”
Kishen and Pravin went back to

the road. “You must have dinner with

us before you go,” Kishen insisted.

Pravin did not have the heart

to say no. Kishen had already gone out
of his way to help him.
 It was only a few minutes walk

and soon they reached an old

dilapidated building. Kishen lived in a
terrace room with his wife. There

were two rooms that opened onto a

terrace. A few sarees and a pair of

pajamas hung there. Kishen pulled a

string cot from one corner.

“You sit here while I change.

Your bhabi (his wife) must be in the

kitchen.”
“Listen, we have a guest for
dinner.”
 Nobody replied. Pravin could

make out that one room was used as

kitchen. Both sat on the cot. Kishen
lighted a bidi and offered one to

Pravin but he refused.

“I left my village when I was

sixteen. I have seen the world before I

came here. It isn’t like it used to be;

there are few good people left now.”

“How long have you been

here?” Pravin asked.

“About eight years. We moved
here soon after I married.”
 Pravin realized Kishen married

late and also came to know that they

didn’t have any children. Kishen’s wife
came with dinner soon. It was plain

dal, roti, and some vegetables. But it

was home-cooked food and Pravin ate

to his heart’s content. Kishen’s wife

stood there with her face half covered

in her saree, which she pulled over her

head.

“If you want, you can stay here

with us. We have only one room so
you will have to sleep here on the
terrace. It’s okay except during

monsoons when you can move into

the kitchen,” Kishen said with a smile.
Pravin considered the offer.

The rats were a real nuisance at Raju’s

place. Also, Kishen’s house was near

the construction site. He could save

time and money in traveling every

day. Plus, the food was good.

“But then, I want to share some

of the cost.”
Kishen took that as a
confirmation. He patted Pravin on the
back and said, “We’ll see.”

Raju was waiting at the stall.

He had finished his daily chores and
had his dinner. “Aaté, you are late. I

hope you have good news.”

Pravin felt bad but he broke the

news. Raju took it sportingly. “We can

always meet on Sundays.”

“I can never forget you. I will

come whenever I get the time.”

They left for the storeroom.

Raju fell asleep soon but Pravin
remained awake. He felt a strange
affection for this young boy staying

alone and away from his family.

In the morning, both got up and
Pravin picked up his bag. He took out

a hundred-rupee note and pressed it

into Raju’s hand.

“Be well and take care,” he said

and left in a hurry.

***
Anil asked Pravin to look after

the stock—loading, unloading,

storage, safekeeping, issue of
materials, everything. He had to stand
by the trucks and keep a count of the

goods and the labor involved, and

then arrange the storage of everything
in the basement. The first lot that

came was cement and soon he was

covered in dust. By evening, he looked

like a ghost and went on coughing and

sneezing. He splashed water on his

face and got some relief. He noted

everything with proper care and

handed the book to Anil. Anil was

happy with his work.
“It seems I have a good hand.
Go home and rest.”

Pravin reached Kishen’s house

and found him waiting. “It seems you
need a shower.” Kishen laughed when

he saw him. Pravin’s head was still

gray from the cement dust.

Kishen’s wife came in hiding

her smile behind the saree pulled

across her face. She set down a bucket

of water and soap. Pravin moved to

one corner of the terrace and removed

his shirt and trousers. He wrapped a
towel and sat near the drain and
cleaned himself. He felt better. Both

sat at the cot and Kishen’s wife served

dinner. The hot food refreshed and
revived him.

Pravin slept on the cot where

Kishen’s wife had set a bed sheet, a

pillow, and a jug of water. It was the

first time he had noticed that she was

much younger than Kishen. While

Kishen was in his fifties, she looked

thirty. She was of medium height and

was not like the women in his village.
She did not have an athletic build but
was healthy. She was neither fair nor

dark. She spoke very little and mostly

stayed inside the kitchen. Pravin
removed the blanket from his bag and

wrapped himself in it. He looked at the

stars. He knew his village was below

the same stars and that his family

must be worried. But it would be

some time before he could go back. He

decided to ask Anil for extra work,

which would allow him to earn a bit

more. And then he slept.
The next morning, he got up
early with the sun and looked around.

It was an old neighborhood with

adequate spacing between each
house. He could see the green fields at

a distance. A few carts loaded with

breads were being pushed along the

path and a newspaperman threw

papers rolled and tied with string. A

few dogs slept curled up on the

footpath. Pravin heard the sound of

bangles and looked around. Kishen’s

wife was up; she set a cup of tea near
the bed. Kishen woke up shortly.
 “Good morning. I hope you

slept well,” he said smiling.

“Yes, bare bhaiya, I did.”
Both had their tea and Kishen

took a short bath. Both had their

breakfast and Kishen put on his

uniform.
“I will leave early but you can

leave later.” Pravin’s site was just a

short walk away.

Kishen left and Pravin watched

him walk down the road. He then went
back and sat down on the cot. Kishen’s
wife was in the kitchen. She came out

after a while and set another tea next

to the cot, then went back and stood at
the kitchen door, her face half covered

with her saree. Pravin knew that in

many places it was still a custom to

keep the veil on in front of outsiders.

He did not mind. He silently had his

tea and got ready to leave. All along,

she stood silently at the kitchen door

watching him.
There were already two trucks
waiting at the site, one loaded with
bricks and the other with iron rods.

Pravin counted the laborers and noted

their names. Once the material was
unloaded, he took stock and entered

the count. He saw Anil and asked, “Can

you give me extra work?”

Anil looked at him and said,

“Extra work is laborer work. If you can

handle that, I will see where I can fit

you in. Give me some time to think.”

Pravin left feeling better with

the new prospect. On the way back to
Kishen’s house, he purchased some
samosa and jalebi. Kishen was not yet

home. Pravin walked up to the kitchen

and left the packet inside near the
door. Kishen came back soon. He was

jovial and smiling and was carrying a

small bag. Every Saturday he indulged

in a few drinks as the next day was a

holiday. He smiled at Pravin.

“I got some good fish. Tonight

we will have good food,” he said

jovially.
“And, I got samosas for you and
bhabi.”
 “That will be great! Let’s have

it with tea.”
They had tea but Kishen left
with his cup unfinished. He changed

and came back with two glasses and a

bottle of rum.

“I don’t usually drink, but I will

have little to give you company,”

Pravin said.
“Will we get the fried fish?”

Kishen asked turning toward the

kitchen.
There was no reply but Pravin
could make out the smell of the fish

cooking. Kishen poured himself a

large glass. Fish was served and after
two drinks, Kishen broke out in a folk

song native to his place. After another

two drinks, his wife came and

removed the bottle.

Dinner was served but Kishen

was in no condition to eat. He tried a

few times to find his mouth and

dropped half the food on his shirt.

Kishen’s wife came and helped him
inside. Pravin could listen to her
scolding. After some time, the sound

of loud snoring floated outside. He

finished his food and cleaned the cot.
Kishen’s wife came and removed the

plates and left his jug of water. Pravin

stretched and closed his eyes.

Tomorrow was a holiday for him. He

decided to meet Raju at the stall.

After about an hour, he woke

up. He had the feeling of being

watched and did not move. He looked

around but saw no one. Inside, Kishen
was snoring out loud. Slowly, he sat up
and picked up the jug of water and

heard the faint sound of bangles and a

door closing.
 Chapter 7

The sky had been overcast since morning.

Diwakar woke up to the baritone bleat of

the baby lamb accompanied by the kid.

Parvati and Nisha were already up.

Nisha was making pancakes.

“Let’s cut and bring in the

buckwheat before it rains,” Parvati

said.
“Yes, Aama,” said Nisha as she

served food for all.

“I am worried about Chotu,”
Parvati said. Even if she did not like

his temper, she always felt concern for

her children.
“Don’t worry, Aama, he should

be fine,” Nisha said.

“Yes, I have full faith in Aaté,”

added Diwakar.
Nisha looked at Diwakar

affectionately—she knew that this

man also had the same conviction

about Pravin and her confidence

increased. Everyone in the house saw
that Nisha prayed with folded hands
and closed eyes every morning in

front of the Devta’s photo. But what

she prayed for was anybody’s guess.
The one and only thing she prayed for

was Pravin’s success—she knew that

her well-being depended on his

finding employment. She also knew

that she had done nothing wrong in

her life for the gods not to be pleased

with her and not to grant her wishes.

Her life centered around him, and he

was her universe.
Parvati folded a big plastic
sheet and passed it to Diwakar. She

took a big strainer and a few sacks.

Nisha packed lunch, tea and biscuits,
and soon they left the house.

Ria was awake but still in bed.

These days she looked forward to her

school trip. It was the only thing that

meant anything to her. The night

seemed longer; the class periods

seemed longer, as if they would never

finish. She sat dreaming all day and

looking out the window. The grass, the
clouds, and the trees all came with a
new meaning and everything seemed

beautiful. She anxiously waited for

those few minutes after school when
Jeet, whose name she got from her

friend, would come out and they

would exchange that short glance

sometimes coupled with a smile.

Nowadays she did not look the other

way but returned his smile.

This happened after Fulaich.

On the last day of the festival the

villagers danced on the road and
people came out of their houses with
gifts—a packet of biscuits or a

chocolate or even a bottle of liquor.

Ria was standing near the door when
the dancers passed. A group of boys

followed them and Jeet was in the

team. He smiled at her. A few

moments later a small child came

running to her and gave her a bar of

chocolate.
“Why are you giving me this?”

Ria had asked.

“It’s not from me. Your friend
said to give this to you,” he said,
pointing to the group.

Ria looked and Jeet turned back

and waved at her. She blushed and ran
inside. She would not eat the

chocolate; this was the first gift from

her love. She kept it in her small box of

bangles. At night, she slept with the

chocolate bar under her pillow.

***
The clouds came from across

one peak and floated behind another.

Sometimes the sun was able to break
through. It was the harvest season and
the fields were full of all kinds of

vegetables. Potato fields with bright

white flowers, green peas with fat
pods ready to burst, radish, gourds,

garlic, cabbage, all different shades of

green. The buckwheat stood out

among them with its bright pink

blossoms. The birds flew from one

field to another. The pines stood

proudly with young green cones while

the oaks and poplars nodded with the

occasional winds.
Parvati took out the plastic and
all three laid it in a rough square in

one corner. Diwakar brought the dried

buckwheat plants in bunches and beat
them against the plastic. The wheat

separated from the plants. Nisha set

them in a pile while Parvati set the

rest of the plant, now dark brown in

color, in another lot. These would be

tied later and kept on the rooftop for

further drying. During winter, these

served as food for the cattle. Once the

pile of wheat was large enough,
Diwakar moved a bit and started
another.

Parvati came over with the

strainer and waved at Nisha. “Please
help me here.”

Nisha squatted down and,

filling the strainer, passed it on to

Parvati, who was standing. Parvati

shook it to remove the dirt and husks,

then set the cleaned wheat in another

pile.

She made a grim face and said,

“We will have hardly three sacks this
time.”
 “But we have Fapra (wild

buckwheat) too, don’t we, Aama?”

“There won’t be much of that
either.”

This went on until the lot was

cleaned up. Then both women put the

husks in a sack for the cattle. Diwakar

had moved farther down, making piles

of wheat in a row. The kid and the

lamb showed no interest in the

buckwheat but jumped around the

greens in all their youthfulness.
Working in the field was new to
Nisha, as in her village her father

could afford to hire laborers. But she

was enjoying every bit of it. She
remembered Pravin telling her how he

hated farm work and how desperate

he was to run away from the village.

She wondered if he would ever come

back except for a few days in a year

and whether he would ever take her

along with him. She left it to the gods

to decide.
***
Ria decided to make a card for
Jeet. She would draw something

attractive on the cover and write a

message inside. She took a piece of
white paper and folded it. The first

thing she tried to draw was a range of

peaks with the sun. But soon she filled

up the whole paper. She wanted to put

in a few more things but there was no

room left. She erased and tried again

with no luck. She decided to ask Nisha

to help her. She would decide later

what to write inside but it should not
be too obvious. Just a plain wish or
some nice words. She was dying to

meet him alone. She had so many

questions.
She went to the kitchen for

food. She saw the pancakes but wasn’t

in the mood for them. Instead, she

took out the packet of noodles Nisha

gave her. She loved maggi too. She

decided that after marriage they

should have maggi once a day stuffed

with onions, tomatoes, and chilies.

***
Shevak sat with a few others at
Lalaji’s shop. Everyone was worried.

This year the offers received for the

apples were very low, a mere three
hundred per crate. This was mostly

due to the heavy rains, which spoiled

the harvest and caused a few of the

orchards to fall to disease. Apples

were the main cash crop in this

region.
“In Sangla they are getting five

hundred per crate,” Naresh said.

“That is because they have a
better crop,” said Balbir.
 “In the city they sell these

crates for two thousand and more!”

said Shevak.
“We will never get a good

price,” grumbled Naresh.

“Yes, as long as the thikedars

(brokers) rule the trade. They know

the greedy among us who take

advance orders and agree to such low

rates!” said Shevak angrily.

“We can’t stop the thikedars,

nor the fools among us,” said Rajaram,
who had been listening to this
exchange.

“I have plucked my apples and

been waiting for the past five days. If
needed, I will take my apples to Delhi.

The price is always better and I have

taken them to Delhi before,” said

Shevak.
“That’s a better idea. But my

apples are few and infected. Maybe I

will use them all for liquor this year,”

Balbir said.
Everyone laughed and Naresh
ordered tea for all.
 “Some years we get good rates

and some years low. We have to live

with this,” he said.
***

Parvati started filling the sacks.

Four and a half sacks resulted from

her effort, her sweat, and her labor.

There were three bags of husks that

took even more space. “This load is

quite big. Diwa, go and ask your father

to send two laborers. They should

carry most of these,” she said.
“Okay, Aama.”
 Diwakar set off in a light jog.

Parvati and Nisha collected the hay

and started making bundles, tying
them with vines. The bundles had to

be carried back and placed on the roof

for drying. But that could wait, as the

sky was dark.

“I will have to go home. The

peas and spinach all need to be put

inside. You wait for Diwa. The

laborers will carry most of it,” said

Parvati.
She picked up a sack of husks
and tied it to her back with her shawl.

The kid and the lamb followed her.

Diwakar came back with two
Nepali men. Meanwhile Nisha had tied

all the hay and was sitting on the

grass. Both of them helped the

laborers pick up the sacks and

Diwakar told them to drop the sacks

at home.
He smiled at Nisha and said, “I

am tired; let’s go to the stream.”

Nisha joined him to walk to the
stream. It was late evening with an
overcast sky and a gentle wind

blowing. They crossed the field and

took a narrow path through boulders,
bushes, and wild grass until they

reached the stream. The ice-cold

water from the glaciers was nearing

its journey to meet the river that

flowed down through the gorges

below. Both sat on a big rock. Diwakar

looked at the peaks, the pines, and the

deodars standing tall, kissed by

clouds.
Without looking at Nisha, he
said, “I want to build a small house in

those hills.”
“And then?”
“Then run away with you.”

“They will surely find us,”

Nisha said laughing.

“We will sit by the river, eat

fruits, and sleep in the trees.”

“And sometimes on the grass

below the trees,” Nisha said, looking

at him. He was dreaming but she was

sharing his dream.
“I will light the fire every
evening and you will dance.”

“I don’t know how to dance.”

Nisha smiled and tried to visualize his
dream. She liked his innocence.

The air stood still while the

clouds came down and covered the

valley. In a few moments, a few white

dots hit the ground. Diwakar looked at

Nisha and said, “It’s snowing.”

Nisha looked in wonder. She

extended her palm and tried to hold

on to the snow. Tiny dots of white
floated, crisscrossing each other in
the air before they came down. The

peaks disappeared in a mystic fog.

The first few flakes melted on the
ground. The snow fell on the trees and

made a pitter patter sound on the

leaves. It was getting cold. Diwakar

moved closer to Nisha and put an arm

around her. She did not move. She

looked at the stream where the snow

formed tiny ripples and smiled.

Diwakar looked at the dimple forming

and kissed her on the cheek. It was an
impulse. She shivered a little but did
not move. While Diwakar was lost in

her beauty, Nisha was enjoying his

innocence and the warmth of love. She
moved closer. The mountains sent a

stream of emotions with the melted

glacier engulfing them. Both sat still.

After a while, Nisha said, “We

must go, it’s getting late.”

Both got up and walked,

clasping their hands like two children.

The light snowfall continued for a

while and then stopped. When they
reached the fields, it was over but the
clouds remained.

***
Shevak was worried, as were
many others. This untimely snowfall

was not good. It spelled bad news for

the crops. But he was relieved when it

stopped. He ordered a tea, lit up a bidi,

and tried calling Pravin. But Pravin’s

phone was still switched off and

Shevak felt restless. He was more

worried about Parvati, who nagged

him constantly. He remembered last
night. Parvati was waiting for him
when he entered the room.

“Did you get any news of

Chotu?” she had asked.
“I will tell you when I do.”

“Did you call him up?”

“Yes, I did, but his phone was

turned off,” he replied angrily.

“Only God knows where he is,

and whether he is eating and sleeping

properly,” she sighed.

“Now don’t start nagging! He is

old enough to take care of himself,” he
said, raising his voice.
 “You can always call Anil and

ask him to look around.”

Shevak lost his temper. He was
not someone to take advice from a

woman.
“Why don’t you shut up, you

old junk? You don’t have much inside

your head except cow dung! Let me do

the thinking and let me decide whom I

should call. Don’t bother me, just let

me sleep.”
Shevak thought for a while and
called Anil at Peo.
 “He is in Solan and working

somewhere,” Anil assured him when

Shevak asked about Pravin.
“Do you have a number?”

“Not at the moment, but I will

get a number for you soon.”

Shevak had a feeling that Anil

was not telling the truth. He said he

would call again and disconnected.

***

Nisha and Diwakar reached

home, each with two bundles of hay
on their backs.
 “Aama, I am hungry. Please boil

some potatoes,” Diwakar said.

Parvati placed a few jacket
potatoes in a vessel of water and set it

on the bukhari. She took out a garland

made of almonds and walnuts. Such

garlands were given and worn during

festivals and celebrations like

marriage. Everyone kept them for use

later. Parvati removed the nuts and

crushed them with a stone pestle. She

mixed some garlic, chilies, and mint
leaves and made a hot dip. She knew
her son loved it. Nisha sat next to the

fire to take the chill off. Parvati took

out a few potatoes and placed them on
a plate. Diwakar removed the skin and

passed the plate to Nisha.

“Aama, you go, and I will clean

the plates.”
Nisha cleaned the plates and

then sat next to the fire watching

Diwakar fiddling with his phone.

Diwakar looked at her and smiled. He

came and sat next to her. Both sat
next to each other trying to read the
silence. After a while, Nisha got up.

“Now you sleep.” She smiled at

him and left.
In the room, Ria fiddled with

the card she had made and wondered

what she should write inside. She saw

Nisha coming and passed her the card

and a pencil.

“Please draw something.”

“What is this?”

“A card for someone. Please

help me,” she pleaded.
Though Nisha was tired, she
smiled and sat down with Ria.

“What do you want me to

draw?”
“Anything… hills, rivers, sun,

clouds, whatever you can.”

Nisha drew some peaks with

the sun between two of them. She

never had any drawing lessons at

school, but Ria was impressed.

“You draw so well. Please draw

some trees, houses, and…and a few

flowers.” Nisha complied. She looked
at Ria and asked, “What else?”
 Ria thought for a while and

said, “Why not put in our baby goat

too?”
“But I don’t know how to draw

a goat.”
“Please try. You can do it; you

draw so well!”
Nisha drew the head but she

was unable to do the rest.

“I will help you,” Ria said.

Ria bent down with her hands

and knees on the floor and burst out
laughing. “Okay, hold it for a while, I’ll
try.”

Finally the drawing of the goat

was done. Ria took out a few colored
pencils and Nisha finished the

drawing.
“Who is this for?” Nisha asked.

“Someone,” said Ria and

turned the other way.

Knowing she would not get any

further response from Ria, Nisha

suggested they go to bed.

Nisha remembered her school
days. Her village was small and boys
and girls were made to sit in different

groups. In higher classes the girls sat

in separate sections. Though a few
girls chatted with the boys, she never

felt the urge to join in. Her complexion

was fairer than average and she was

tall. She also knew that many boys

stole glances at her but she always

looked the other way. And in college

she always kept to her studies and

spent her spare time reading books,

which she borrowed from the library.
Most of them were on mythology and
she read them over and over again. It

saw just a few movies with her

friends, and then she met Pravin,
which changed her world.

Diwakar was sleeping near the

fire but in his mind, he was still sitting

on the rock near the stream. With

Nisha. He wanted to leave everything

behind and go away with her. Just her

and no one else. He imagined building

a small wooden cottage with a slate

roof. He would stack stones for a
boundary wall and plant wild roses
along the edge. There would be a few

goats, lambs and cows, a

rhododendron tree in the courtyard
with pink blossoms, and a swing

below it. A wooden gate would open to

a pathway lined with poplars and oaks

and leading to a river. Diwakar and

Nisha would follow this path every

evening and sit on a rock by the river.

He decided to plant a wild berry tree

next to the rock so the birds would

come and fill the place with bird song.
Inside the house he planned just one
room, a big room with a fireplace in

the center; a bed on one side and a

large window on one of the walls. The
window would frame the distant

mountains. Nisha would dance around

the fire while he watched. And then

they would sleep next to the fire, he

and Nisha, with their arms around

each other.
Diwakar was half-asleep and

half lost in thought when he felt the

push. He woke up and saw Shevak
standing over him.
 “It’s snowing again and this

time it’s heavy. We need to move out

now.”
The snowfall was untimely and

the apple trees still had their leaves.

The leaves held on to the snow and

the branches would give way if it was

heavy enough. They either broke or

got damaged and twisted with weight.

This was a big loss as it took five to

seven years for a healthy branch to

grow strong enough to hold the
apples. This did not happen if the
snowfall came at a time when the

trees were bare.

Diwakar was ready in no time
and put on his jacket and snow boots.

Both father and son left silently with a

torch. Only Parvati stood at the gate

and prayed to God. Outside, a faint

glow made the road visible. The snow

fell heavily and accumulated around a

foot and a half. It was well past

midnight but they could see a couple

of people moving down the road. They
matched the footprints left on the
snow and moved quickly. The orchard

was two kilometers away. After some

time they crossed a bend. The steps
that went down were covered with

snow. Diwakar went ahead and

marked the steps for Shevak. The

orchard was a bit lower on the slopes.

Both reached the orchard and Shevak

released a sigh. Many of the trees

stood with broken braches that

pointed downwards. Others were

loaded with snow and would give way
any moment. Father and son started
shaking the trees, one after the other.

There were a total of three hundred

trees, and between the two of them,
they could only save a small number.

The bigger, fully mature trees were at

greater risk as they had more leaves.

But shaking them was difficult. Both

tried their best. The torch had died a

while ago. It was dark and cold. The

snowfall continued.

It was early morning when the

snowfall stopped. Father and son were
still at work. All night they had moved
from one tree to another. Diwakar felt

tired. His hands and feet were numb.

He looked at aau at a distance still
shaking the trees trying to salvage

whatever was possible. He moved

closer to him.

“Aau, let’s go home now.”

Shevak looked at his son and

realized that he needed rest. He

himself felt tired too. He nodded and

both started walking back.

On the road, they met a few
villagers. Most of them drank every
evening. They were sleeping and

would not be aware of the loss until

morning. The few who got up were
grieving. Yashobant was coming from

the village. He stopped when he saw

Shevak.

He looked worried.
“How is the situation out

there?”
“Bad. It has put us back ten

years,” said Shevak.

“I saw the snowfall but at this
age it’s difficult for me to move at
night.”

A few passing villagers also

stopped. Everyone had a grim face.
Most of them planned their life, loans,

and existence on the earnings from

apples. Over the years, the orchards

had grown and now they provided a

substantial income, even a measure of

opulence to the villagers. A few had

large orchards built over several years

of labor but now their efforts had been

lost in just one night.
The mountains smiled at a
distance. They never allowed much

lasting comfort to the people and

enforced the cycle of growth and
destruction, leveling everything.

On the way back, they saw

more damage. The vegetable patches

standing tall with bright green stalks

had been reduced to thick green

frozen carpets. The buckwheat fields

that stood upright had lost their stand

and now lay broken, twisted in

disarray. The cows were having a
feast from the leaves of broken poplar
branches. Roofs, poles, rocks,

boulders, and roads were all covered

with deep, heavy snow.
Parvati was standing at the

gate when they came home. She had

not been able to sleep all night. She

kept the fire ready, expecting them to

come back at any moment. Both

rushed inside and sat near the fire.

Nisha gave them hot water to drink

while Parvati made tea. There was

silence. Shevak lit a bidi and looked at
everyone.
 “What can we do if he decides

our destiny in this way?” Shevak said,

referring to Devta.
“First the rains and now the

snow. We need to make arrangements

for a puja,” Parvati said.

“You think it will help?”

Diwakar asked. “First you sacrificed

two lambs because there was no rain;

then two more for the rain to stop.

And now for the snowfall! This

happened through no fault of ours.
This is global warming our teacher
told us.” Diwakar was visibly upset.

“And what is that?” Parvati

asked.
“You wouldn’t understand.

What his teacher said may be true.

This has never happened before in the

last twenty years,” Shevak said.

Nisha looked at her father-in-

law. She felt bad for him. She knew

that apples were an important source

of sustenance for the family and how a

poor harvest would affect them. She
wished Pravin were there to help his
father. But then she remembered that

he could help more from outside—

only if he got a decent employment.
She closed her eyes momentarily and

prayed to God for his success.

***

The sun came out and created

dazzling reflection all across the

valley. Shevak took out his dark

sunglasses and went out. The snowfall

posed a threat to the electricity supply

and he had to be ready.
At Lalaji’s shop, a small group
gathered. Humbled by nature on all

fronts, most of them sat with long

faces. Balbir stood there with a cup of
tea. His Jeep was totally covered with

snow, only a little glass was visible in

the front. He saw Shevak approaching

and ordered a tea for him.

“Any news from Sangla?”

Shevak asked him.

“All roads are closed.

Landslides in three places have

disconnected us. Even Sangla is
disconnected,” Naresh said.
 Landslides have become a

regular occurrence during the

monsoon. The cutting of trees and the
hydroelectric projects contributed to

the landslides more than anything.

“Now the prices will go up!”

commented Balbir.
“Except for the price of apples,

which will go down further,” said

Shevak.

Lalaji sat inside the shop and

listened to everything. He was happy
because the closed roads meant extra
profit. He had enough stock to last two

weeks but he would wait a few days

before taking it out.
At this moment, the TV

stopped and Shevak realized there

was a power outage. He looked at his

cell phone. He knew it would ring any

moment.

***
Diwakar stretched out near the

bukhari. His eyes were red from lack

of sleep and he felt exhausted. In his
mind, he went back to his cottage in
the hills. He decided to keep a good

stock of firewood there. He soon fell

asleep. In his dreams, he saw himself
walking on the smooth snowy carpet

in his small garden holding Nisha’s

hand.

Ria got ready for school. She

was in high spirits. The card she had

made was ready except that she had

not written anything inside. She could

not find the right words. But that was

okay. The card looked nice with its
drawings of blue mountains, a red sun,
blue houses, a yellow river, and an

orange goat. She had thought of a

hundred ways she could give Jeet the
card, but then decided she would ask

her best friend Lila to help her. She

reached school and went to her

classroom. Everyone, including the

teacher, sat huddled next to a bulb

heater in one corner; they were

singing in chorus. A few minutes later,

the principal came and announced a

“snow day” for all classes up to the
eighth standard. Ria felt cheated. Jeet
was in the ninth class and she could

not wait that long. She consulted Lila.

“You can always give it to him
tomorrow,” Lila argued.

“But I want to give it to him

today.”

“One day will not make much

difference, my friend.”

Ria thought for a while and

nodded. Both left for their homes.

Nisha and Parvati stayed at

home. Nisha took the shovel and
cleared the snow from the courtyard
and the entrance. In the afternoon,

both of them strained the buckwheat

again and washed it with water. Nisha
looked outside. Everything looked

serene in the evening light of the

setting sun. She had never seen such a

snow-covered landscape before. The

hills, the meadows, the trees, the

roads, the river all looked different—

she thought of Pravin and then she

thought of walking down to the river

with him, treading on the fresh snow
hand in hand.
 Ria came back from school and

played with the kid and the lamb. She

enjoyed being pampered by all and did
little housework. No one ever

expected or asked her to do anything.

On rare occasions, she helped Parvati.

Soon it was dark and Parvati lit

a candle. Normally with bad weather,

it took two to three days to restore

power as the electrical poles ran

across difficult terrain. Shevak arrived

home a bit later than usual.
“The cable snapped in three
places,” he announced. “It will be three

to four days before we have power.”

He was not worried. Power was only
used for light and the TV. He had an

early dinner and went to bed.

Diwakar was still by the fire

and wrapped a light blanket around

himself. It was dark and Nisha looked

out the window. The moon came out

late, first spreading the shine on the

opposite peak and then flowing down

the snow-covered face and touching
all the pines. Then the moon reached
the valley where it glowed

momentarily on the river, turning it

into silvery silk before crossing the
fields and touching the courtyard. It

was as if a hidden light had been

switched on and everything started

glowing. Nisha noticed Diwakar

standing beside her. He was looking at

her face, which also glowed from the

reflection. They smiled at the same

time and looked at the dark sky filled

with stars and moonlight, the white
glowing peaks on the horizon, and the
white sheet spread across the valley…

only the shadows from crevices and

below the rocks added mystery to the
heavenly scene.
 Chapter 8

It was Sunday and Pravin got up a bit

late. Kishen got up and was his normal

self again.

“Once a week we should

indulge,” he said, smiling at Pravin.

Pravin nodded. He thought it

was okay for this old man to drink

once in a while, as he did not have any
other recreation.

“Bare Bhaiya, I will go to the

bus stand today. I have to meet my
friend Raju.”
“Go, but come back early.
Tomorrow is a work day.”
“I know,” said Pravin. He also

informed Kishen that he might get

extra work soon.

Kishen’s wife came and served

them hot puri and vegetables. Pravin

finished the food and left.

Raju was more than delighted

to see him. He gave him a tight hug

and pulled him to a corner table.
“How have you been, my
brother?”

“I am fine, the new job is good.”

“Yes, you look better too. It
must be the good food you are

having,” he said jokingly.

“I have brought something for

you.” Pravin handed him a packet

containing a T-shirt.

Raju saw the T-shirt and

smiled at Pravin.

“I am happy you like it,” said

Pravin.
A customer called, so Raju left,
asking Pravin to wait. He came back

with a tray loaded with glasses and a

special tea for Pravin. Raju came to
talk with Pravin in between serving

customers until it was noon and the

stall was empty. The owner, who was

always making tea and smelled of milk

and sugar, came in.

“Can I get a leave for half a

day?” Raju pleaded.

The owner knew the boy had

never taken a leave for the last two
years. Since there were not too many
customers on a Sunday evening, he

said, “Okay, but be back early to close

the shop.”
Raju jumped with joy. He went

inside and put on the new T-shirt

Pravin had given him.

The two of them roamed

aimlessly in the streets. Pravin took

him to a sweetmeat shop and Raju ate

to his heart’s content. Next, they went

to the temple where they offered puja.

Outside they got some potato-chat
and walked down to the garden to sit.
 “When do you plan to go back?”

Pravin asked him.

“I don’t know. Maybe someday
when I make a lot of money.”

“That will be quite some time.

Don’t you feel homesick?”

“Sometimes I miss my mother

and sister. But then I get over it.

Maybe I will go next year when I have

saved a good amount.”

“Let’s have some chicken for

dinner,” said Pravin.
“You will waste all your money
in one day.”

“My wish!” said Pravin and

took Raju to a popular restaurant.
They ordered chicken and rice and

had their fill. It was getting late and

both decided to part ways.

“This has been one of the best

days in my life,” Raju said before he

left. Pravin walked back with a smile

of contentment on his face.

Anil was waiting for him at the

site. He saw Pravin and waved.
“Kishen Bhaiya said you are an
electrician but our electrical work

won’t start until next month. When

the time comes, I will put you there.”
He paused. “Until such time, you can

work with the team that is making the

slabs. But I must tell you something.

Even though the pay is double, the

work is hard and I don’t know if you

can do it.” He paused again.

Pravin was accustomed to hard

physical labor. He had a strong build

and was desperate to earn more.
“That is very kind of you,
bhaiya,” he said.

“Okay, report to the supervisor

after your duty here. The shift ends at
eight in the evening and there is no

break.” Anil patted him on the back

and left.

Pravin went to the store and

opened the gate. A truck with stone

chips was waiting and he started

unloading it with four laborers. A few

more trucks came and soon it was

lunchtime. A few laborers stayed in
shacks on one corner. One of the
families cooked and supplied lunch for

all. It was basic rice and dal or rice and

vegetables served in plates made from
leaves of the sal tree. (The sal tree is

worshipped among the Buddhists and

Hindus in India. It is mentioned in

many scriptures that the Buddha was

born and died under the sal tree. The

leaves are broad and widely used in

festivals and marriages when

hundreds or thousands of people are

served. The leaves are arranged in a
round shape and kept together with
small soft sticks that work like

needles.) A young child made rounds

with a kettle of tea. The corner was a
small world within a bigger world,

where women were washing clothes,

chasing naked children with big

tummies and running noses, fighting

with other women—sometimes over

petty thefts, sometimes over

infidelity, sometimes arguing with

each other, sometimes abusing

someone, sometimes chatting, and
sometimes laughing out loud. They
were a group of people far removed

from their land and roots.

Pravin closed the store at five
and headed for the supervisor. He

stood in the line and signed the book.

The supervisor looked at him. Pravin

was the only one who signed while all

others put a thumb impression.

“Are you sure you can do this

job?” the supervisor asked.

Pravin smiled, removed and

folded his shirt, and moved ahead
with the team.
 Everyone picked up a bag of

cement and moved forward. He

followed them. It was not too much for
him. They all dropped their bags and

came back for the next one. After the

lot was shifted, the team moved to

another point where sand was loaded

on a handcart.

In between, the young child

came with tea. And then it was iron

rods. A team of two balanced the iron

rods on their heads. Pravin felt
comfortable with physical work but in
the end, he was tired and hungry. He

washed his face and hands, put on his

shirt, and headed back to Kishen’s
house.

At home, Kishen already had

his dinner and was waiting for him.

“You look tired,” said Kishen.

“I am hungry too.”

“Do you think you can do this

extra work? I think you will fall sick,”

Kishen said with genuine concern.

“No, bare bhaiya, today was a
difficult first day, but I can manage.”
Pravin smiled.

Kishen’s wife came out with

his dinner. Pravin had two extra
chapattis. After dinner, she gave him a

glass of hot milk. Pravin felt bad, as he

knew that Kishen’s salary was not

much and the milk must be from his

share.

“You must have it,” Kishen

said.

Pravin took it but he decided

that he must contribute in some way.
He was now earning two hundred per
day on top of his regular pay.

Kishen left him and Pravin

made his bed. Soon he was fast asleep.
Pravin woke up early the next

morning. There were a few puffs of

autumn clouds in the sky. He looked at

the fields far away and remembered

his village. He decided to call Diwakar.

He still had a balance on his cell

phone.

“Where are you, Aaté? We are

all worried about you.”
Pravin could hear the
excitement and joy in his voice. “I am

fine Baya. Please tell Aau and the

others I am fine.” His voice nearly
choked.

“I was always sure that you

were fine. But Aama was worried.”

“Don’t worry, tell her I am fine.”

“When are you coming back,

Aaté?”
“Soon. I am working here and

—” Before he could complete the

thought, the balance in his phone ran
out. Pravin felt miserable, as he
wanted to ask about Nisha and

wanted to say so many things.

He heard the familiar sound of
bangles and saw that Kishen’s wife

had left tea for him. Kishen was also

up and soon after breakfast, he left for

his duty. Pravin decided to take a bath.

He was feeling unclean after last

evening. He sat in the corner and

washed thoroughly. But all along he

had the feeling he was being watched.

The days passed and it was
Saturday. Pravin got his payment of
around two thousand rupees. He felt

good, and in the evening, skipped his

extra work and went to the market. He
bought rice, dal, wheat, oil, sugar, and

some vegetables. He also bought a kilo

of meat and a packet of good

cigarettes for Kishen. Finally, he

bought a box of milk cakes.

Kishen had reached home early

and was sitting on the cot with two

glasses and his bottle of rum. He was

singing with his eyes closed.
Hamri na mano, tum budhoa se
pucho…Hamri na mano…

“Ram Ram, Bare Bhaiya,”

Pravin said and left the bags near the
kitchen.

“This is not necessary. Why did

you spend so much?”

“Not too much, Bare Bhaiya. I

have some responsibility too.”

“As you wish. Now come and

sit here. I have been waiting for you,”

Kishen said and poured two glasses.

Kishen’s wife came and placed a plate
with fried chana (gram seeds) in front
of them.

Pravin had dinner alone on his

cot. Kishen drank a bit more than
usual and had to be carried inside. The

meal was delicious; he had meat after

a long time. In his village, meat was

rarely cooked more than a few times a

year. Kishen’s wife stood watching as

he ate. He finished and licked his

fingers. She took the plate and left a

jug of water. Pravin could listen to

Kishen snoring loudly inside. He
stretched out and fell into a deep
sleep.

About an hour later and he

woke up to find Kishen’s wife sitting
on the side of his bed. She placed a

finger on her lips, asking him to stay

quiet. And then she lifted the blanket

and slipped in. Hastily, he tried to

move away and sit up but her arms

were around him and her legs held

him in a vice grip. He could not move.

He did not know what to do. She

moved closer and he could smell her
breath of cardamom and cloves. He
could feel her soft breasts pressing

against him and feel her heart beating

rapidly. And then he felt her hand
caressing him. He felt aroused and

could not help but respond.

But his effort was inadequate

to quench her long unfulfilled desire. It

was a reversal of roles and she

overpowered him, as if a latent fire

hidden for a millennium had found a

vent and was bursting into flames.

The sound of bangles filled the night
while Kishen’s snoring continued in
its own tempo.

Pravin was drenched in the

sweat of her passion. She drained him
completely with her intensity. And

then she lay by his side. She ran her

fingers through his hair. He looked at

her. This was the first time he had

seen her beautiful round face with its

large bright eyes. In the faint light, he

could see her firm, round breasts

rising up and down. She had a narrow

waist that ran into full and firm legs.
Pravin had mixed feelings. On
one hand he felt content in helping to

relieve her passion and on the other

he felt like he was deceiving his
benefactor. There was a feeling of

guilt too; after all, he was married. But

that sense was not overpowering, as it

was the woman who made the first

move and forced him into the

situation. He felt tired and prepared to

sleep. But she was not done with him.

She did not allow him to rest. She

worked on him until he was aroused
again. She wanted him to go on and on
as if there was no end to it. Pravin felt

his manhood challenged and tried his

best to satisfy her. She made him
spend his last ounce with the

determination of a tigress. He lay limp

and exhausted. She smiled and

rewarded him with a kiss before

returning to her room. Dawn was

breaking and the first light was

spreading across the sky. Pravin

turned around, pulled the blanket to

cover his head, and fell asleep.
Kishen woke up and found
Pravin still in bed. He wondered if he

had drunk more than usual but he

could not remember. He finished his
tea and woke him up.

“It’s late. Get up and have

breakfast.”

Pravin could only nod. He was

still in a haze and feeling dizzy. He sat

still on the bed for some time, then got

up and splashed water on his face.

Kishen’s wife came in with a

tall glass of milk; he drank it in one big
gulp. Then she gave them leftover
meat and chapattis. Pravin ate as if he

had been starving for a long time.

Kishen thought he must have also
missed dinner like he had.

His wife stood nearby and

smiled behind her veil. Pravin finished

the food and looked at her. She did not

seem to be the tigress he encountered

last night but someone affectionate

and caring.

Kishen left for the market and

Pravin stretched out again. After an
hour, he got up, dressed and left for
the bus stand. He did not feel like

walking. When he arrived at the bus

stand, he saw a familiar Jeep parked
there. Pravin recognized Balbir and

said, “Namaste, Mamaji. How are

you?”

In the village, nearly everyone

was related to one another and Balbir

was his mother’s second cousin.

Balbir was surprised to see him.

“I heard you were in Solan, but

it’s a real surprise to run into you.”
“Yes, I am working here with a
construction company.”

“You look tired. Are you okay?”

“Yes, Mamaji. We had a party
last night,” he lied.

“We had an untimely snowfall a

few days back.” Balbir briefly told him

of the damage and devastation.

“Why not join me for tea?”

Pravin took him to the tea stall

where Raju greeted them and served

them two cups of special tea. Balbir

knew Raju and patted him on the
head.
 “So, what is your work like?”

Balbir asked. He had to know in detail,

as he had to face his sister when he
returned.

Pravin told him about his work.

He did not mention the extra work. He

then asked about everyone in the

village.

“You should call your Aau once

in a while.”

“But you know his temper. He

does not understand me and starts
ranting and raving.”
 “I will speak with him.”

“Tell him that I am a grown-up

now. Also tell him that I am doing well
and will come home soon.”

“I have to leave,” Balbir said.

He had come on a booking and he was

running late.
“I will be back soon,” Pravin

told Raju and left with Balbir.

When they reached the stand,

Pravin gave him two hundred rupee

notes. “Please give this to Diwa and
ask him to give a hundred to my wife.
Also tell him to buy something for

Ria.”
Pravin stood there until Balbir
left and then walked back to the tea

stall.
At home, Kishen was eating

lunch while his wife stood next to him.

He looked at her and said, “Pravin

comes from a good family. And he is a

nice man.”

His wife nodded. She didn’t say

anything.
“I don’t know how long he will
be staying with us. But you must take

good care of him.”

“I do whatever I can. What
more do you expect me to do?”

“Not much, just give him good

food and a glass of milk. You must tell

the milkman to deliver half a liter

extra, starting tomorrow.”

She kept silent.

“Are you okay? Are you upset

with my drinking?” Kishen looked at

her.
“Why should I be upset?
Drinking once a week is okay,” she

said, and then left for the kitchen.

At the stall, Pravin sat at a table
waiting for Raju. He was busy serving

customers. After some time he came

over to him.

“Aaté, it will be difficult to get a

leave today. If I ask him he will get

upset.”
“That’s okay; I will also leave

early today. I need to sleep early.”

After some time he went out
and packed two lunches of fried rice
and came back. He also topped up his

cell phone but kept it off. Both men

were having lunch at a corner table
when a middle-aged man walked in,

came straight to their table, and

greeted Raju.

“How are you, Raju?”

“I am fine. How are you, Ganga

Bhaiya?”
Gangaram stayed in Rampur

but came to Solan once in a while to

buy goods for his shop. He often joked
with Raju, telling him that he would
open a tea shop in Rampur and take

him there. He liked him and

occasionally tipped him a rupee or
two. “Meet my brother, Ganga Bhaiya.”

Raju introduced Pravin.

“And this is Ganga Bhaiya. He

has the biggest electrical shop in

Rampur.”

Pravin nodded and he sat with

them. Raju left with the plates and

came back with two glasses of tea.

“So, you are from Kinnaur
too?” Gangaram asked.
 “Yes, sir. But I am employed

here.”
They chatted for half an hour
and during that time Pravin told him

almost everything. Gangaram listened

with interest to his plight, his travels

from his village to Peo and then to

Solan in search of a job.

After some time Pravin said, “I

have to leave, sir.”

“Sure, but I would like to meet

you again. If you cross Rampur, please
do meet me at my shop. It is in the
main market.”

“I will,” assured Pravin and bid

good-bye to Raju.
Gangaram waved at Raju and

called him to his table.

“How long have you known this

man?”
“Quite long. But why do you

ask?”
“Just asking. I may have some

plans for him.”

“And for me?”
“The tea stall!” He smiled and
left.

Pravin did not go home. First,

he went to the temple and offered
puja. He closed his eyes and in his

mind said, “God, I have done no

wrong. You know better. It was not my

fault. And if I have done anything

wrong, please forgive me.” He kept his

eyes closed for quite some time and

then left. He felt better. He walked

down to the garden and sat on a

bench. He called Diwakar and before
he could reply, he said, “I want to
speak with Nisha.”

“Please hold, Aaté. I will

connect her with you.”
Nisha took the phone and said,

“Yes.”
“It’s me.”

She did not reply but remained

silent.

“Hello, it’s me. Are you there?”

After a few moments, she said,

“Yes.”
“Why are you silent? Is anyone
around?”
 “No.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“No.”
“Listen, I got a job. The salary is

okay, not bad. And I will be back soon.

Now please tell me, how are you?”

“I am fine, but I miss you,” she

finally said.

“I miss you too. Are they

treating you well?”

“They are all good people and

love me too. But please come soon.”
“I will try. I have sent a hundred
rupees for you. Diwa will give it to

you. Spend it as you like.”

“I don’t want any money. I want
you.”

“I will try to come soon,” Pravin

said and disconnected the phone.

Kishen was surprised to see

him back early. He assumed he would

be back after dinner.

“Did you have dinner?”

“No, Bare Bhaiya. I will have

dinner with you.”
“That’s fine. Now sit down here
while your bhabi cooks.”

He went to the kitchen door

and said, “Listen, make some good
alu-gobi for us tonight.”

Both sat on the cot and enjoyed

the light evening breeze. After a while,

Kishen became nostalgic. “In our

village, we had a lot of land, a house,

and many trees. We had mango,

jackfruit, and jamun trees. And all the

trees bore fruit. In the evening, we

used to sit in the courtyard. There
were so many birds that came for the
fruits: parrots, bulbul, mynah and

more.”
“In our place we have apple
orchards. I will get you some when I

go next time.”
“Yes, I have heard about

Kinnaur apples. They are juicy and

sweet too.” Kishen was in the mood to

tell Pravin many stories about his

childhood. He told him how he

skipped school and spent all day at the

river, how he rode on buffaloes, and
how they dropped him in the mud. He
told him about his work as a forest

guard when he came face to face with

a tiger, and more.
Meanwhile Kishen’s wife

served them dinner. Kishen went on

for some time telling stories even

after dinner and then left to go to bed.

Pravin stretched out and gazed at the

stars. He soon fell asleep.

***

At home, Nisha felt restless.

She had been expecting Pravin’s call
for a long time but when it came, she
could not speak. She could not tell him

all she wanted to say. At last, after all

this time, she had heard the voice of
Pravin—her love. She felt a strange

longing for him and wanted to be near

him to hold him close. It was like

roaming around in a desert alone for

months in search of water and then

hearing the distant sound of a stream.

Not only did she feel a soothing wind

blowing over her face but also the

thrill of excitement—it was as if a part
of her soul resonated from inside the
phone—as if he was not far, as if he

was sitting next to her looking at her

with those dark eyes full of
determination. She had never felt like

this before. She wanted the phone call

to last for a few more moments, as she

wanted to say so many things. She

knew he was tormented and that he

labored hard—she only wished to

caress him with her words, her

assurance, her belief, her conviction.

And with her love.
***
 A couple of days passed. Pravin

resumed his extra duties. He did not

feel very tired. Anil now trusted him
and promised better pay the next

month. The construction continued

going well. He came back and slept

peacefully. No one was watching him

and Pravin thought it was over. But

then one day when he was going out

for work, he found her standing,

blocking the gate. Pravin could see

that she wore nothing except her
saree. And beneath it, he could see her
breasts clearly and her nipples

standing taut. He looked at her face

without expression.
“You can go a bit late,” she said,

lowering her eyes.

Pravin was surprised but was

in no mood to give in to her yearning.

“I have to go now. I have people

waiting for me.”

She looked at him with desire

in her eyes and pleading too. But after

a while, she stepped back and went
inside slowly. Pravin could not make
out whether she was annoyed or

disheartened.
 Chapter 9

Parvati left early for the temple. The kid

and the goat followed her. The villagers

were scared. They decided on offering

puja. The snow still covered the valley. It

would be a few days before it melted and

the losses could be assessed. When she
arrived, the Devta was already out in the

compound. He was carried to the other

side of the river along with his entourage
beating drums and cymbals. They rested

him on high ground that was considered

holy. Puja was performed and two lambs

sacrificed. The villagers then went to the

temple where the meat was cooked.

Mohan sat at the head of the gathering. He
was Shevak’s brother and in charge of

temple proceedings. The Devta selected

people on rotation.

“There will be no more

snowfall before winter,” he said.

“Let’s hope so. He is almighty

and powerful,” said Naresh.

“He is powerful. I remember,
many years back, the people at Basteri
refused an invitation and he gave

them a flood that washed away the

orchards, fields, and houses,”
Yashobant said.

He was one of the elders and

had seen many winters. He knew

more than anyone did, and his

wisdom always went unchallenged.

The only sad thing was his loss in the

last election. But he felt relieved after

so many years of chiefdom.

“Let’s all pray for good times,”
Mohan said, and everyone closed their
eyes and folded their hands in prayer.

As per custom and belief,

snowfall always happened within a
week after the Devta went for a rest

and the red flag came down. But this

was an exception and everyone

believed that it was due to some fault

on their part. The justification of the

devastation and the suffering rested

with Devta and nobody questioned his

decision. They could only ask for

forgiveness and make offerings to
him. Parvati prayed with others. She
also prayed for the well-being of

Chotu and asked Devta for peace and

an end to suffering.
At home, Nisha sat alone in the

courtyard. Diwakar and Ria both left,

Ria for her classes and Diwakar to

meet his friends. Nisha thought about

the strange longing she had felt when

Pravin called. Earlier, during the first

few months of marriage, she had

floated on the river of passion. She

thought this was what love was all
about. She waited eagerly for every
night when their two bodies became

one. Passion overrode mind and a

thoughtless state prevailed. Gradually,
after a month when the initial

excitement lessened, her mind woke

up. It sought something more. Maybe

it drew inspiration from the movies

she saw, the few other books she read,

or the stories she heard. She didn’t

know what it was. But it was

something more than the usual

routine. And then some days she
didn’t feel like making love. She felt
like talking for a while, felt like

listening to him like before when he

spoke and dreamed with his eyes
open. Earlier she kept her eyes closed;

she enjoyed and engaged intensely

until the flames smothered and she

felt satiated. But slowly she realized

she was just playing up to his

expectation. It was not a matter of her

desire, need, or satisfaction. She was

simply a player in a primal act in

which her role was restricted to
keeping her legs open. Though her
body responded instinctively, her

mind started moving away.

Though sometimes she felt
resentful, she continued with routine

submission. She thought maybe this

was what marriage was all about. But

she never felt violated, as some part of

her found a sense of harmony, rather a

sense of completeness in the union. It

was only when he left that she realized

what love was. Not that she missed

him in bed, in the act of making love.
She had never noticed how, over a
period of just a few months, she had

grown accustomed to his presence,

his form, shadow, smell, demands, and
had lost her own individuality. Her

existence drew on him, her looks, her

walk, her words, her cooking, all

revolved around him. She realized

how much she depended on him. And

now in his absence, every moment,

every act seemed incomplete. She

wondered what he would have said,

how he would have reacted, how he
would have replied, how he would
have felt and so on. Thoughts of him

occupied her days.

She even missed the
submission, the compliance—her

contribution to his happiness and the

momentary freedom she enjoyed

from inhibitions. She realized that

absence and distance were more

important to understand what love

was. It was not in possession or in

constant company.
So even though everyone was
around, she felt alone. She tried not to
think about him but everything

around her—the hills, the trees, the

river, the valley, the clouds—
constantly reminded her of him.

Then she thought about

Diwakar. He was young and she

recognized his infatuation with her.

Though she enjoyed being the object

of his fascination, she assumed that

she was just a placeholder and this

would pass in the long run when he

found that special someone. Until
such time, there was no harm in
enjoying his warmth as long it stayed

within limits. She was confident she

could handle him. After all, he was
simple and adorable and though she

felt affectionate toward him, it was

nothing but sisterly affection.

Ria came back from school and

found Nisha sitting alone in the

courtyard. She left her bag and sat

beside her. She was in high spirits

because she had managed to give the

card away today. After school, Jeet
came out alone and she waved at him.
He came over to where she was

waiting with her friend Lila. She

looked at him and he smiled. Without
any pretext, she took out the card and

gave it to him. He took it, smiled

again, and simply said, “Ho lasse.”

(Thank you so much.)

But it meant a lot to her. She

felt content, accomplished, and happy.

“Can I ask you something?” Ria

asked Nisha.
“Yes,” Nisha said.
“Promise me you won’t mind
or complain. And you will tell me the

truth.”
“You have my word.”
“Did my brother kiss you

before marriage?”
Nisha thought for a while. Ria

was fifteen and nearing adulthood.

Maybe she had something else on her

mind. She looked at Ria and saw she

had a confused look on her face. “Why

do you ask?”
“Please tell me, I need to
know.”
 Nisha saw that Ria was serious.

Nisha smiled and asked, “What

do you think? Did he kiss me before
marriage?”

“I don’t think so,” Ria said with

confidence.

Nisha was surprised with Ria’s

answer, as it was true. She had never

kissed him before marriage, but how

would she know about that? “Why do

you think that?” she asked innocently.

“Simple, you don’t have a baby
in there.” She pointed to her tummy
and then added, “My friend said that if

you kiss before marriage, you will

surely have a baby.”
Nisha burst out laughing and it

took quite some time before she could

stop. Ria looked at her with eyes wide

wondering what was so funny.

“That’s not true. You will never

get a baby from a kiss, either before or

after marriage,” Nisha said.

“Are you sure?” Ria asked.

“I am, but never kiss someone
you don’t love,” Nisha cautioned and
left her wondering.

Diwakar was walking back

from his tutorial. Guruji who gave the
lessons was a good teacher. He was

intelligent and knew each student’s

limitations. Even though he would

have loved to take them further, he

restricted himself to suggestions and

having them memorize probable

questions and answers. His home was

a long way off—close to the plains—

but he never saw his employment as a
punishment. He knew the system was
at fault and over a period of years, he

had lost his resolve to fight and

change it. He remained carefully
neutral, voicing occasional concerns

while helping deserving students

make it to the next level.

Diwakar looked at the evening

sky. The sun had just gone down,

leaving striking red lines across the

horizon differentiating the layers of

clouds. They formed a spectacular

backdrop to the peaks. His ambition
had always been to roam these peaks
as an army man, but now the dream

had an added element, Nisha. And that

made a lot of difference. The valley,
the harvest, the peaks, the sky—

everything came with a different color

now. The village seemed different, too

—a much more attractive place to

stay. Earlier he thought life was an

adventure, a challenge, but Nisha had

changed everything. Now life had

become a journey, a peaceful journey

with someone to care for, someone to
protect and love, someone to share
his dreams. He was lost in thought

and did not notice Balbir waving at

him. Only when Balbir blew the horn
did he turn around.

“Come here! I have something

for you.”

“What’s that, Mamaji?”

“Your brother sent you some

money. Here, take this—a hundred

rupees for you and hundred for your

Beysha (brother’s wife).”

“So you met him in Solan? How
is he?”
 “He is fine and seems to be

doing well. He said he will come for a

visit soon.”
“Yes, he must come soon. We

miss him very much.”

Diwakar left Balbir and

continued walking. He felt happy at

the news that his brother was doing

well. Aaté was his childhood hero and

he still thought of him that way. He

used to follow him everywhere. He

was anxious to see him again and
listen to his adventures. He was not
concerned that Nisha belonged to him

or that he had more access and

intimacy with her. His world with
Nisha was a different world, far away

from reality, far removed from earthly

encumbrances, a solitary spring

flowing across rocks and boulders

with single-minded determination.

He decided to spend a part of

the money to load new songs onto his

cell phone. He knew that Nisha loved

songs and this was one way he could
impress her. He would play them
while he was in the field and at home

as well. He would also top-up his

mobile with talk-time so that he could
call aaté sometime. He reached home

and called Nisha inside.

“Aaté sent you this,” he said

and gave the money to Nisha.

“And he sent me some also.” He

showed the other note to her proudly

and smiled, as if he had an equal share

of his brother’s love.

“He will be here soon and then
we will both go fishing,” he added.
 “Can you do me a favor?” Nisha

asked.
“Sure, anything you wish.”
“Take this money and buy a

pair of good warm socks for Aama.

And some bangles and hair clips for

Ria.”
Diwakar nodded and took the

money. He would go to Sangla to make

the purchases.

***
Shevak had mixed feelings
about his elder son. Earlier he had met
Balbir, who assured him Pravin was

doing well. Balbir had advised him to

treat hs son as an equal. Shevak did
not understand that. How can a father

and son be equal? he wondered. All his

advice was for his own good. Yes, he

had been a bit rough with him but that

was his nature. It did not mean that he

did not love or care for him. He had

spent huge sums for his education and

supported him all along. But it was

good news that Pravin had found a
job. He would wait and see how long
he stayed. Maybe he had changed;

maybe marriage had made him more

responsible. He lit a bidi and prayed
silently to god. He wanted Pravin to

settle down with a job. Shevak had

three brothers and had inherited a

fourth of his father’s land. This was

not much and some additional

earnings would help the family.

Parvati returned from the

temple. She brought jalebi (deep-fried

buckwheat in a pattern) with her,
which was a delicacy that everyone in
the house loved. After dinner, Parvati

sat near the fire with Shevak.

“Chotu loves jalebi,” she said,
as if to herself.

“Don’t start all over again! He

is fine; Balbir saw him and said he is

doing well.”
Parvati was pleasantly

surprised to hear about Pravin.

“He is working in Solan. But I

don’t know how much he is getting.”

Parvati was happy with the
news that her son was well. She was
not concerned with money.

“Is he coming back soon?”

“Balbir said he might come.”
“Don’t start shouting at him

when he is here.”
Shevak looked at Parvati with

his standard frown and muttered

something under his breath.

“They are all grown up now and

if you treat them well they will take

proper care of us in our old age.”

“I don’t mind if they go their
own way. If they don’t help out I can
take care of myself.”

Shevak knew that without help

he couldn’t continue for long. In the
hills, people age fast. The hard work

starts from childhood and it takes a

toll on them. But he was not worried.

Even if he couldn’t do farming, he

could always hire a laborer for his

apple orchards and the profits would

be enough to support two old people.

He thought he had done his best

bringing up his children and now it
was up to them and Devta to carry on.
He decided to send Diwa once more to

take the army exams. If he failed

again, he could always talk with the
Yashobant to refer him to the MLA

(local legislator) for a job. Yashobant

was his second cousin, and being the

village head for so long, he knew

people who mattered. If all else failed,

then Diwa could stay at home, do the

farming, and look after the cows.

In the village, everyone looked

to their sons to take care of them
when they grew up. Parvati always
looked forward to retirement. Having

spent her life in labor and toil, she

only hoped that a time would come
when she would get relief from this

inhuman slogging. Relief from sowing

the seeds, waiting for rain, plowing

and tilling the field, reaping the

harvest, carrying grass, fodder, refuse,

firewood, crops, cooking, knitting,

brewing, and more. She hoped that in

spite of her past sins she might have

done some little good for which she
would get this reward from God. A
good job for either of her sons would

lessen the load and allow some

comfort. Also, it would lessen the
burden of loans and the painful

repayments every month. And even if

only one son stayed at home, he could

lend a hand in tending the cattle,

sheep, and other work. She was happy

that there was some news from

Pravin. She cared for all her children

and always prayed for their safety and

well-being. She felt most content and
happy when all her children were at
home under the same roof. She

decided to offer puja at the temple.

At night sleep eluded both
Nisha and Ria but for different

reasons. Ria, enriched with her recent

knowledge from Nisha, planned her

next move. She knew that it would be

soon when Jeet would want to meet

her. But why wait? She herself could

take the next step. The only confusion

remained in what she would say. She

knew she had to ask two vital
questions. One was whether he loved
to travel. This was important because

he would have to hold her hand and

take her out of this village to the end
of the road where they would enter

the city that glitters all the time.

The second question was how

soon he could marry. This was vital to

her existence. She could not spend a

life centered around only a minute of

pleasure every day and the rest in

pain. She could not wait all day and all

night for that one minute. The sun
only shone in the evening when she
saw him at the gate. The flowers only

bloomed and the birds only sang for

that minute. She wanted to have him
and the sun and the flowers, all at the

same time. She wanted him to be

close to her at all times.

If he said yes to her first

question and if he was ready for an

early marriage she would know he

really loved her. She would not object

if he wanted to kiss her. She did not

know how to kiss but she thought she
could manage. As she had seen on TV,
it was just pressing lips together. And

now that Nisha had assured her that it

wouldn’t give her a baby, she was
more confident. She decided to ask

him for a meeting but wasn’t sure

where the meeting should take place.

It was a small village and everybody

would know. She could ask him to

meet her behind the school but that

was not a safe place. Or she could ask

him to walk down toward Mastarang

and meet her near the pine forest. But
again, there were many people going
that way. This had to be a secret. She

thought for a while and then she found

a way. She felt amazed by her own
intelligence. She could ask him to

meet her at Lila’s place. There was no

one there during the day. She lived

with her mother while her father was

employed with the army. But she

would have to ask Lila to stay away as

a kiss would be difficult in her

presence. She was pleased with the

plan and felt like patting herself on the
back.
 Nisha was wide-awake too.

Both Diwakar and his father

mentioned that Pravin was coming to
visit. She was thrilled. She had some

doubts if he was coming for the family

or for her. Maybe he felt homesick;

maybe he wanted a break from his

work. But then she assumed he was

coming to see her. The family was

secondary and with her father-in-law

not on good terms with him, the only

attraction that could have pulled him
back was her. She felt good with her
assumption.

Nisha decided to cook

something special for him when he
came. His happiness meant a lot to

her. She decided she would stay

awake the whole night and make him

tell his story. Make him tell about his

work, how he spent his days, what he

ate, and how often he thought about

her. The most important thing she

wanted to know was if he planned to

take her along with him. But she
would not ask. She knew that it was
important to stay with the family; to

share the load of work. That was part

of the deal called marriage. But she
would make him promise to come

more often. She decided to tell him

that life was miserable without him,

that she spent days and nights

thinking about him, that she felt his

absence and missed him terribly.

Diwakar watched a movie until

late into the night. It was a Chinese

action movie dubbed in Hindi. But his
mind strayed elsewhere. He listened
to songs for a while and finally slept.

In his dreams, he crossed the distant

peaks on his horse. Nisha was with
him. He reached a valley and the

enemy surrounded him. They came

from all sides with guns pointing at

them. He had no way out. He pleaded

with them to leave Nisha. But they

were determined. And then he saw his

aaté on the hilltop. He had a rifle and

one by one, he shot down everyone.

He was relieved. His brother waved at
them and asked them to carry on. He
waved back at him and rode away

across the valley. Even after they rode

to the end of the valley, he could see
aaté standing on the hilltop with his

rifle.
 Chapter 10

Pravin was in the store reconciling the

count of cement bags with a laborer when

Anil rushed in.

“Come fast, you can do your

work later. The architect is here and

he is planning to start the electrical

work next week. I have given him your

name and he wants to meet you.”
Pravin locked the store and

rushed off with Anil. The architect was

seated with a bunch of papers on a
table at the site. He looked at Anil and

Pravin and asked them to wait. He

finished his paperwork and asked

Pravin to take a seat. He pushed a big
drawing toward him.
“Do you understand this?”

Pravin looked at the electrical

drawing. It was easy, a standard

wiring diagram for one floor. He

nodded. “Sir, I have completed my

diploma from Peo in electrical

engineering. This should not be
difficult for me.”
 “Where are you from?”

“Kinnaur, sir.”
“So you Kinnauris have gone
beyond farming and cattle?” the

architect said, smiling.

Pravin saw the comment was

friendly and he also smiled.

“Okay, we start next week.

Meanwhile, estimate the number of

man-days required for this. All

materials will reach the site by the day

after tomorrow.”
The architect dismissed them
and Anil and Pravin moved off. Anil

smiled at Pravin.
“Congratulations. If you do
well, he will keep you for all his

projects.”
“Thanks, Bhaiya. You have

been a great help.”

“It is all his wish,” said Anil,

pointing upward.
“I need another favor from you.

Can you get me a place to stay,

bhaiya?” Pravin asked.
Anil was a bit surprised, as he
knew Pravin was staying with Kishen.

“Is there a problem?”

“Not at all. Kishen bhaiya is
extremely good to me and Bhabi

cooks very well. But it will be a burden

to stay with them for a long time.”

“Okay, I understand. I will see

what I can do.”

“Can I ask you something

more? Is it okay if I ask for a leave next

month? I need to go home for a few

days.”
“That should not be a
problem,” Anil assured him.

At home, Kishen’s wife made

thekuas (cookies) out of gram flour,
oil, and sugar. Pravin and Kishen sat

with the crisp snacks and enjoyed

their tea.

“I am getting into permanent

work at the site.”

“That’s great news! Ramji is

great. We must offer puja and

celebrate!” Kishen exclaimed.

Pravin smiled. He decided not
to tell him about his decision to move.
It could wait for now. He didn’t want

to make this person sad who had

stood by him during difficult times.
“Did you inform your folks?”

“I just got the confirmation

today. I will certainly inform them.”

“You must, as parents are like

gods; they endure so much pain to

bring up their children.”

Pravin nodded; he always held

his family above all things.

At night, Pravin thought about
his aau. He had never understood him
and was not sure if Shevak would be

happy. But he was sure that others

would be happy. He was now content
to be a complete man. He had a good

job to support the family and a wife to

lend a helping hand. He couldn’t ask

for more. He knew that his other plans

of having a Jeep and a shop would also

happen over a period of time. Overall,

he felt happy to make a visit and

announce his achievements. It was

not that he felt homesick. Yes, he
missed the family, pancakes, the
valley, the river, the peaks, and his

friends. But no one in particular, not

even Nisha. Marriage was part of
becoming complete and he knew he

had to comply with the custom. She

was good company and supported his

plans. She took care of him and did her

part for the family. As long as the

family was happy with her, he was

happy.

The only problem he foresaw

was his brother Diwakar’s marriage. It
would call for a division of land and
the orchard as well as adding rooms.

Land got divided among the sons and

after so many generations and
division, what was left on Shevak’s

part was not sufficient for the family.

This was an issue that bothered

Pravin sometimes and being the

eldest son, he knew it was up to him to

find a way out. The only thing he could

do was complement the family

income with his effort. He felt more

confident now and knew that the
Devta was with him.
 In the morning, Kishen woke

him early. Both took a shower and left

for the temple with empty stomachs.
They offered puja and had tea at the

stall. Raju was delighted to hear the

news. He touched Kishen’s feet and

asked for his blessings.

“I have heard so much about

you.”
“I know about you too. If Ramji

(Lord Rama) is kind, you will surely be

happy in life.” Kishen gave him prasad
and they both left.
 At work, Pravin was full of

enthusiasm. He felt a surge of energy

and devoted his full attention to his
new responsibilities. He went through

the drawing once more and made

calculations. He consulted Anil several

times and arrived at his estimates. He

also made a rough plan on how to

proceed with the work. He felt happy

with his planning.

Pravin could not sleep

Saturday night. Anil had yet to find a
room for him. Kishen was snoring
loudly inside. And he knew his wife

would come. It was like the leopard

visiting their village who once stole a
calf and came every night after that.

He waited in apprehension. Finally,

she came but this time she did not

force herself on him. She simply sat on

the edge of the bed next to him. Pravin

looked at her. She was fully dressed. In

the faint light, he could only see her

face. Pravin sat up and looked her

straight in the face.
“You know this is not right,” he
said.

She looked at him for some

time. In the darkness he couldn’t make
out if she was angry or sad.

“What is right?” she said in a

low but sharp tone. “I lost my father

when I was six months old. Is that

right? My uncle brought me up. And

when I grew up, he molested me all

along. Is that right?” She was

breathing deeply. “And then he sold

me to this old hog. Is that right?”
Pravin saw she was sobbing.
He felt bad. He sat up and took her

hand. “Maybe this is your destiny. But

Kishen Bhaiya is a nice man.”
“A nice man is not enough to

quench the fire within me.” She

moved closer to him and held him in a

tight embrace. “Am I asking too much

from you?” She looked at Pravin with

pleading eyes.
Before he could reply, she

pushed him down on the bed and was

on top of him. Pravin tried not to
respond but with her hair covering his
face and her breasts pressing against

him, he soon felt aroused. His young

blood responded and once again, he
surrendered to her aggressive moves.

They made love once that night

and then she lay beside him, holding

on to him like a lover. Pravin did not

have the feeling of guilt he had earlier.

In the morning, he met Raju and they

both went out to the garden and then

out for dinner.

The electrical work started on
schedule and Pravin got fully involved.
For the first few days, he laid out the

plan, hired people, and finished the

masonry work. He personally installed
the master controls and the mains and

delegated smaller work with careful

detail. But on the third day, when the

architect switched on a test circuit,

the fuse blew with a bang!

“What is this?” He shouted.

Pravin was surprised. He had

tested the mains quite a few times

himself. The helper who did some of
the wiring must have mixed up the
cables.

“I am sorry, sir.”
“Sorry? There is no question of
being sorry!” he exclaimed. “You

cannot do a simple job properly!”

Pravin kept quiet. The helper

who made the mistake was his

responsibility. He could see that the

architect was upset.

“Sir, there will be no more

errors.”
“Yes, you’re right. There will be
no more errors, because I will never
hire someone like you again, ever. It

was my fault entrusting a job like this

to an illiterate farmer. I don’t know
how you ever got that certificate!”

Pravin was quite upset with his

comment but kept his anger in check.

He picked up his bag and walked

away. He could hear the architect still

yelling at him.
The news also reached Anil.

Pravin met with him and explained

what happened. “Everyone makes
mistakes, bhaiya, but does that call for
such abusiveness?”

“Try to forget and don’t take it

personally.”
Pravin kept quiet. He was still

fuming inside.
“Do you want me to speak to

him?”
“Thanks, Anil bhaiya. But I

would rather take a break and visit my

folks.”

He was in no mood to work for

the architect.
“Okay, but do meet with me
when you get back.”

Pravin nodded and left for the

site office to collect his dues.
At home, Kishen felt genuinely

upset when he listened to Pravin’s

story. He patted him and said, “Keep

faith on Ramji and everything will be

all right.”

“I will leave for my village in a

day or two.”

“Maybe you should meet with

the man and ask him for one more
chance.”
 “There is no point to that, bare

bhaiya. I can take almost anything but

not such insults.”
“I agree,” Kishen nodded. He

was feeling bad as Pravin was just

settling down. But he knew such

things happened.
In the morning, Pravin washed

all his clothes and packed his bag. He

decided to buy a few things for home.

He had money. The whole day he

spent in the market. He purchased
shawls for Nisha and Parvati, a jacket
for Diwakar, and a scarf for Ria. He

also picked up a packet of almonds

and some chocolates. After that, he
met Raju, gave him some money, and

bid him good-bye.

The next day he was ready

before Kishen got up. Kishen’s wife

made him tea. She packed him some

thekuas and watched him pack his

bag. “Let God be with you,” she said

softly and went inside to call Kishen.

Pravin touched Kishen’s feet. Kishen
pulled him up and hugged him tightly.
 “Thanks for everything, Bare

Bhaiya. You have done more for me

than anyone.”
“Take care and come back

soon,” he said in a choked voice.

Pravin picked up his bag and

left. He would be late for the bus to

Rampur.

There was no direct bus from

Solan to the village and he had to

either change buses or take a shuttle

from Rampur. Pravin took a corner
seat and looked out the window. It
was still early and the market was just

waking up. A fruit vendor stacked dark

green melons, guavas, and mangoes
on a large plastic sheet. He cut a few

melons in half and kept them on top,

displaying the bright red insides. A

rattling sound came from a metal

shutter as a shopkeeper wound it up

with a solid push. He then lit a few

incense sticks and moved them in

circles before placing them near the

deity on the wall and folded his hands
in prayer. A bare-chested priest with
red and white marks on his forehead

was doing his round of shops,

sprinkling holy water on the goods
and wares from a copper vessel, and

collecting whatever he got in return. A

bull roamed majestically and

munched on fruits and vegetables

offered to him by the vendors. A bull is

always considered holy, as he is the

companion of Lord Shiva. A couple of

beggars slept peacefully on the

pavement, curled up inside old torn
blankets. It was too early for them to
wake up. A few cycle vans with

supplies of bread kept honking while

pumping hard on the rubber horns
and scaring the few pedestrians who

came early to take advantage of

buying fresh. A tea vendor roamed

around with a large kettle of steaming

tea in one hand and a stack of finely

balanced glasses on the other. Stray

dogs barked and chased the bull but

from a safe distance.

The bus started and soon was
out of the city. Pravin felt the fresh
rush of cool air on his face and saw the

green fields, trees, and the mountains

in the distance. He felt much better.
He thought about his current state. If

fate had played tricks on him, then

fate had also brought him this far. He

had not committed any crime or done

anything bad to anyone. It must be a

test by Devta. He remembered his

Teté saying once that the strongest

tree withstood many storms. He

decided he would not mention
anything at home and behave as if
nothing had happened.

He thought about the past

month and all the people he had met.
He thought of Kishen, Anil, Raju, and

then he remembered Gangaram. He

checked his purse and found his card

still there. He decided to meet him at

Rampur, provided he found the time.

Rampur thrived on its market

and supplied the whole of Kinnaur. All

the traders and shop owners bought

their goods from this market and
there was a constant crowd of
merchants, Jeeps, and buses. It was

also the capital of the former Raja

Saheb, Bir Bahadur. His son, the
former chief minister, stayed there. In

the late afternoon, Pravin got off the

bus at Rampur. He had been there

before during the annual fair when the

locals brought in their handicrafts and

wares for sale. He checked at the bus

stand, but all the buses had left that

morning. He decided to have tea and

look around the market. As usual, the
market was crowded with people
buying vegetables, utensils, nuts,

garments, and groceries. As he pushed

through the crowds and went farther
into the marketplace, he saw a sign

that announced: GANGARAM ELECTRICALS.

He went inside. Gangaram was

seated at the counter and was

pleasantly surprised to see Pravin. He

came out and greeted him.

“Welcome to Rampur. When
did you arrive?”

“A few minutes ago, sir.”

“Please don’t call me sir. I am
an ordinary man. You can call me

Ganga Bhaiya. But tell me first, did you

have lunch?”
“No, but it’s okay, I will be on

my way soon.”
Gangaram called to a man in

the opposite shop and ordered tea

and samosa for Pravin.

“Where are you off to? Why not

stay for a day and then leave?”

“I am off to my village. I lost my

job at Solan, but I will go back soon.”
Gangaram listened to what
happened in Solan and thought for a

while. “Whatever happens happens

for the best. I have better plans for
you.”

Pravin wondered what he had

in mind.

“You see this shop, my friend?

Apart from this, I have acres of land

that can give me more money, but

only if I have the time. I have no one

except my mother at home. I want you

to manage this shop.”
He paused and looked at
Pravin, who did not show any

reaction. He kept silent.

“I will give you a decent salary.
More than that, you can accept all the

electrical work that comes here and

keep all the profits. On an average we

get three to four inquiries a day, from

fixing a switch to complete wiring.”

Gangaram paused again and looked at

Pravin, expecting an answer. He was

not yet sure if Pravin was interested.

“I always wanted to have my
own shop. And this is close to that.”
Pravin smiled.

Gangaram was overjoyed, as

this meant a big relief for him. At
heart, he was a farmer and he had

opened this shop only on his friends’

advice.

“I will be back from my village

in a week or ten days time,” said

Pravin.
“No problem. When you come

back, you can stay in my house. I have

an extra room. It’s small, but it will be
okay for you.”
 “Can I make one request of

you? Is it okay if I call Raju to come

here? He can be my assistant and I will
train him.”

“As you please. From now on,

this is your shop and your business.”

Ganga smiled.
“I don’t know how to thank

you,” said Pravin.

“Please don’t. We are friends

and we are both helping each other.”

Pravin left the shop in high
spirits. He thanked Devta and decided
to offer puja at the village. He went to

the stand to look for a shuttle. He met

Jay Singh and his Jeep from Sangla. Jay
Singh was the brother of Rajdev, who

had made a fortune selling illegal

diesel fuel, which he procured from

the power company’s drivers. There

was no service station around and his

business flourished. The family was

well off and the car was mainly used

for servicing the tourists.

Occasionally, they also came to pick
up goods and supplies for the traders.
Jay Singh knew Pravin and greeted

him with a smile.

“Do you have space for me?”
“Sure. There are two other

passengers, both men, and I don’t

think they will object. But you need to

wait until the goods are loaded.”

“I will, but join me for tea.”

They both had tea while the

porters loaded the sacks and boxes.

The two men came in and Jay Singh

told them that Pravin was an old
friend and wanted a lift. They nodded
and Pravin sat on the front next to Jay

Singh.
Soon the Jeep left Rampur and
hit the uphill road. The road cut across

a hill while another ran parallel.

Winter was approaching and the fields

on both sides of the road wore a

desolate look. Crops had been cut and

with the soil exposed, the plains

reflected shades of brown and gray.

With no crops, the villagers left the

cattle to graze freely and they
searched desperately for the last trace
of green. Flocks of birds, mostly

pigeons, browsed for leftover grains.

Huge bundles of hay and grass lay
stacked in places waiting to be hung

on roofs or in trees. Only the pines

retained their greens while the others

stood with their last few leaves

fluttering in the breeze. The Sutlej had

lost much of its volume and ran in a

slim and slender note. The bed of

rocks and gravel were now exposed

and soaked up the sun.
Pravin knew there was a lot of
work at home too. In a month, the

family would shift to their winter

home, which was a thousand feet
down the mountain and much

warmer. The cattle would move too.

But before that, grass and hay needed

to be cut and brought down to feed

them. And then there was the pruning

of the orchards, collection of firewood,

bringing it down, cutting it, and

storing it to keep it dry. The bukhari

burned almost all day and night
during severe cold. Apart from these
things, the buckwheat had to be

ground, the potatoes harvested and

stored, vegetables dried, and much
more. He knew this was routine work

every year and this year, Nisha was

there to help too. If Ganga permitted

it, he could return again next month

and help them. But he was sure he

would miss his village in winter. The

snow-covered valley, the fishing in

shallow waters, the long gossip

sessions, the dry meat preparation,
and all that came with the white
season.

The car was close to Karcham

when Jay Singh made a halt by the side
of the river. He lit a bidi and pointed

to the rocky face of the opposite hill.

He turned back and spoke to the

occupants.
“This is the place I told you

about. Look above and you will see a

long piece of rock cut straight on the

sides, but it is fixed. Legend says the

Pandavas worked at night and for
some reason they couldn’t finish the
work.”

Everyone got down from the

Jeep and saw the huge pillar-like rock
protruding near the top. It was as if a

giant cutter had been miraculously

carried to the top by someone and

that someone had tried to cut a long

slab that lay unfinished. One of the

passengers, who looked out of place,

took out a camera and shot images

from many angles. He was awestruck

at the sheer size of the rock, the
perfect cut and height of the location.
 Pravin looked at the hills and

the ravines. This was the land of the

Pandavas. Though the myths said they
stayed here for a year in disguise and

appeared only during the night, many

still believed they were the true

ancestors. In his childhood, teté

(Grandpa) treated him with stories

from the great epic. And even though

he repeated many of them several

times, Pravin never felt bored. He

knew them by heart and loved to see
himself as the middle pandava Arjuna
while he saw the two younger

brothers in Diwakar. He remembered

childhood days when he roamed the
hillsides with a bow and arrow and

only teté as the solitary and obedient

subject in his kingdom.

It was late evening when the

Jeep reached Sangla. Earlier they had

stopped in Tapri where Pravin had

some food. He was tired but the

thought of his village kept him awake.

He got out of the car with his bags.
“How much do I owe you?”
 Jay Singh laughed at him. “You

don’t need to pay. Someone has

already paid for the trip.” He pointed
to the other passengers unloading

their goods.
Pravin thanked him and looked

for a lift to his village, which was still

fourteen kilometers away. But before

he could leave, he bought some fresh

meat and onions. There was no

shuttle that late but then a PWD truck

came. He signaled the driver and after
throwing his bags in, he got up on the
carrier. There were others too. This

was common practice in the village,

and one only paid five or ten rupees to
the driver who happily gave a lift as

long as he had room.

The valley opened up as soon

as the car took the second bend. A few

orchards still awaited plucking and

the juicy red apples hung temptingly.

The apricot trees, heavy with yellow

fruit, swayed leisurely with the

evening winds. Cows roamed around
munching the roadside bushes and
ignoring the thorns. The first few stars

blinked beyond the eastern peaks in

competition with the half moon that
gradually turned dense silver. Pravin

glanced at the meadows and listened

to the faint yet familiar sound of the

Baspa River flowing between the

peaks. He felt the chill of the evening

wind blowing on his face. This was his

home and he longed for the warmth of

the bukhari, pancakes, and pickles.

 Chapter 11

Shevak was worried. It was becoming

difficult to get a decent price for the

apples. Quite a few traders bid but their

offers were much less then expected. A

few of the villagers, hard pressed for

money, could not hold on and were
accepting less and less. The grader had

come earlier and Shevak’s apples were

graded medium or poor, making it
difficult to bargain for a better price. The

highest rate went at five hundred rupees

per crate and that was for someone who

had agreed to a rate contract earlier. A

few traders went for such contracts

because sometimes the prices shot up
much higher.

The recent roadblock had

created another crisis: getting crates

and boxes for the apples. And the

dealers in Sangla were selling them at

a premium. A farmer needs good

quality boxes and crates or there will

be another deduction. Shevak had
some old stock but was waiting for
fresh stock to arrive.

Shevak sat at Lalaji’s shop with

Naresh, who was confronted with the
same problem.

“We can take the apples

directly to Shimla,” he said.

“Yes, that’s an option, except

that we’ll have to make some

payments to the police along the way

unless we travel at night when they

are not there.”

“You once took apples to Delhi
and got a good price.”
 “The apples were also good at

that time. Still, the price would be far

better than the offers we are getting
here.”

“Yes, and it would be a good

break also. After all, we work all

through the year.”

Shevak looked at Naresh, who,

like most of the folks, spent his days in

leisure while his wife labored in the

field and at home. She also fed the

cows. Some days he took out the cows
and then drank all day, dozing below
the shade of some tree. Some days he

spent with his brother’s widowed wife

and everyone knew he slept with her.
And again, like others, he drank every

evening.
“But maybe I will travel to

Shimla,” Naresh said. “The prices

there are not much different than in

Delhi.”
Shevak thought about his last

trip to Delhi. It had taken almost three

days and on the way he had to tip the
police twice. But he struck a good deal
immediately on arrival, which made

him happy. The city with its tall

buildings amazed him more, as did
the thousands of lights glowing at

night. The trader even arranged a city

tour for him with one of his

employees. He saw all the notable

places, including the Kutub Minar,

India Gate, Parliament, Red Fort, and

the Jantar Mantar. The next two days

he roamed alone in the city and the

market using the state buses.
Everybody had warned him to be
careful with money, so he deposited

nearly all of it in his bank on the first

day. They also advised him not to
wear the green topi, as it would give

away his identity. He listened to them

and was careful.

But on the second day, he came

across a tall building and could not

resist counting the number of floors.

He had never seen such a tall building.

He wanted to know how many stories

it had so that he could tell everyone in
the village. And while he was counting,
a crook came and asked for money. He

said there was a charge for counting

floors. Shevak said he only counted
fifteen and at five rupees per floor, the

crook took seventy-five rupees from

him. But he allowed him to count the

rest of them free of charge. Shevak

mentioned the incident to a fellow bus

passenger and everyone burst into

laughter. He did not mind, as it was

just a few rupees, but he never told

that story to anyone in the village.
Arvind came in a while later.
He was visibly upset. His orchard was

on the roadside. Some tourists had

entered his orchard the day before
and picked more apples than they

could eat. More than being upset with

the tourists, he was upset with the

driver, who was a local man. The

drivers are supposed to advise

tourists and keep them away from

trespassing. The villagers are friendly

with tourists and they know that a

part of the economy depends on them.
Often they also take them inside the
orchards and allow them to pick a few

apples and shoot pictures.

“I will put up an electric fence
next year,” he fumed.

“And then the cows will be

killed,” Naresh commented.

“Then I will keep a few dogs.”

“Don’t get so upset. It is only a

few apples,” said Shevak.

“But they should understand

that apples are our bread and butter.”

Arvind left swearing and
Shevak also stood up. It was getting
dark and with winter near, the

evening wind was cold.

***
Parvati felt tired after a full day

of work. Both she and Nisha had

collected apricots from an orchard

two kilometers away. This was a

normal walk for her but having spent

the whole day bending and squatting,

she felt pain in her knees. While Nisha

climbed the tree to pick the apricots,

Parvati had collected them from the
ground and put them on a large
spread of cloth. They both sorted the

good ones from the bad. The apricots

that grew there were a wild variety.
While a few good ones were kept for

drying to make khomani(dry-fruit),

the others were used in brewing

liquor. Mixed with apples they provide

the sour taste to the finished drink.

Nisha spread the ones for drying on

the rooftop and they walked back

home munching apples and nuts,

which she carried with her. On the
way, Parvati remembered to stop at a
Koli house. A Koli was a low caste;

though they did many kinds of

support work, they remained
untouchables. At the temple their role

was restricted to carrying and playing

the drums and cymbals.

“Don’t eat or drink anything in

this house. They are Kolis.”

Nisha nodded and Parvati went

inside. She left a bundle of wool for

stitching pajamas and then went back

outside.
“Remind me to collect this next
week. And if they come to deliver, take

it at the gate. They should not be

allowed to come inside, particularly
into the kitchen.”

“Tomorrow we will stay at

home and make poltus. The Lamaji is

coming to read his book. We also need

a bottle of liquor.”

Lamaji did not refer to anyone

in particular. The Tibetans were

addressed as Lamajis and anyone

could read hymns after they reached a
certain age. The puja was performed
mostly to bring in peace and

sometimes the villagers raised flags

with a small twig of pine tied on top of
the pole.

Nisha wondered about her old

age. She saw Parvati and thought

maybe she would also lead a similar

life of inhuman labor, toiling in the

farms, at home, and someday she

would also get old. And if Pravin

stayed far away, she would have no

one with whom to share her thoughts,
her happiness. Maybe life was like this
and it was not good to have higher

expectations. She should be happy

with whatever she got. Maybe
someday things would change,

perhaps when she had children.

Maybe he will come back and settle in

the village, and be at her side all the

time. She imagined going to the fields

with her child and working side by

side with Pravin. She felt happy as she

walked back home with Parvati.

At home, Ria was agitated. She
had discussed her plan with Lila, who
had advised her to wait. She said that

this kind of thing should not be

rushed. And it would be better if the
invitation came from him. But Ria

could not accept that. She did not have

much time; she wanted to know if he

was the right man with whom she

could plan her future. And then

another idea crossed her mind. The

school picnic was coming up. Maybe

that would give them an opportunity

to meet. It was normally organized
near the waterfall and the location
offered many options. She decided to

make another card, and this time she

would write a message inside. She
would ask him to meet her. But her

writing was not good. She needed to

find someone to write for her. On the

outside, she would ask Nisha to draw

a tree and a boy and a girl below it

holding hands. She smiled to herself at

the thought. And then she would ask

her to add a few birds and maybe a

dog. She would put on her best dress
again and wear the new hairclips and
bangles that Nisha had recently given

her.
Diwakar was watching a movie
on TV. It was one of those days when

Ria kept to her room and Shevak sat

near the fire. He kept the sound low,

as it was a Hindi movie with a few

romantic scenes. He heard aama and

Nisha approaching and instantly

changed the channel.

“We are too tired today. You

make something for dinner, Diwa,”
Parvati said before sitting down next
to the bukhari.

“We missed you; I was up on

the tree all day,” Nisha told Diwakar.
Diwakar switched off the TV

and started playing songs on his

mobile. He was getting up to go into

the kitchen when Pravin entered.

“Aama, Aaté is here,” he shouted.

Nisha saw Pravin and broke

into a wide smile. She ran inside.

Pravin went inside the kitchen,

as he knew Shevak would be there.
“Namaste, Aau. Namaste,
Aama,” he said as he set his bag down.

“Aama, I bought some meat

and I am hungry.”
“I will cook,” both Nisha and

Diwakar said together.

Pravin looked up in surprise

and smiled. He sat down next to the

bukhari but away from Shevak, who

was smoking his bidi and watching

everything.

“I will have some pancakes

also. I can’t remember when I had
them last.”
 “You need some rest. You have

been working all day, so let me cook,”

Diwakar told Nisha.
Ria came and sat next to

Pravin. “What do you have for me?”

Pravin took out the scarf and

she was delighted. He then passed on

the shawls to Aama and Nisha and the

jacket to Diwakar. Shevak watched

everything and thought that perhaps

his son was doing well after all.

“Make some tea,” he addressed
to no one in particular.
 Diwakar placed the meat on

the bukhari, and added chopped

onions, garlic, turmeric, and dried red
chilies. Next he made the pancakes.

He also put on water for tea. Everyone

was tired and hungry.

“Aaté, you, Aau, and Ria eat

first, I will eat later with Aama and

Nisha.”
The meat was well cooked and

Pravin ate to his heart’s content.

Parvati looked at Pravin. She was
pleased to have all her children under
one roof.

“Did you eat well in Solan?” she

asked.
“Yes, Aama, I was staying with

a nice couple and they treated me very

well.”

“Did you get pancakes there?”

“We only eat pancakes here.

The rest of the world eats rice and

chapattis,” Shevak said.

“Then carry some buckwheat

when you go back. And some apples,
nuts, potatoes, rajma, and garlic.”
 “I will carry the village with

me.”
Everyone laughed and Parvati
wondered what was so funny in what

she said.
“I may go to Simla to sell the

apples,” Shevak announced.

Everyone fell silent and looked

at him.
“I am not getting a good price

here and there is a loan to be repaid.”

“Do you want me to come
along with you?” Diwakar asked.
 “No, you had better stay here

and get on with the grass and woods.

Winter is near and we don’t know if
there will be an early snowfall.”

“I hope you are not going

tomorrow? Lamaji will be coming in

the morning,” said Parvati.

“Not tomorrow. As of now I

don’t know when I can go.”

“Why call Lamaji?” Pravin

asked.
“We need to put up the flag. It
has been lying here at the house for a
long time.”

Shevak had purchased the flag

from Peo about a month back. The
Buddhist shop at Peo sold flags and

printed hymns on them according to

requirement. This was a red flag and

was meant for protection against

storms. The snowstorms sometimes

turned into blizzards and caused a lot

of damage. People also put up white,

green, and yellow flags for peace,

harvest, ancestors, and other reasons.
They finished dinner and Ria
left. She shifted to her parents’ room

as aaté was there. Pravin and Shevak

sat off to the side while the others ate.
“How is the meat?” Diwakar

asked Nisha with a proud smile.

“It’s good, but I can make it

better,” she whispered to him and

smiled.

“We’ll see,” he whispered back.

Nisha and Parvati left soon

after dinner. Both were tired but while

Parvati slept, Nisha cleaned up the
room, brushed her hair, applied cream
to her face and oil to her hair, put on a

bindi, changed her clothes, and tried

to look her best. She looked at the
mirror and blushed. She felt goose

bumps all over and a strange stirring

inside. She waited anxiously.

Diwakar went to the other

room and switched on the TV. Only

Shevak and Pravin sat next to the fire.

“What is your work there in

Solan?”
“Complete electrical
supervision,” Pravin replied. “It’s a
new complex and I am taking care of

the installation—mains, wiring,

switches—everything.”
“And how long will it take?”

Pravin wasn’t sure what he was

getting at. “About a month,” he said.

“And after that?”

Now he realized what Shevak

was asking and replied promptly,

“There will be other sites.”

Shevak realized that he must

be with some big company and
nodded.
 “Be careful. Electrical work is

full of risk. One mistake and you are

crippled or dead.”
Shevak himself, though

illiterate, was a linesman. He had

learned everything while on the job

and knew the risks well.

“What about the snowfall and

the damage?” Pravin asked. He had

genuine concern in his eyes.

“We lost nearly half the

produce and the orchards were badly
damaged. It will take another five to
six years to recover. I don’t know how

I will pull through this year.”

Pravin did not say anything but
knew that he must help the family. He

decided to send some money from

next month onward.

Shevak saw that his son was

tired from the journey and stood up.

“How long you will be here?”

“Maybe a week or ten days. I

can’t stay longer, as I have to complete

the work.”
In the other room, Pravin met
his baya. Diwakar smiled and asked

him to sit.
“All your friends are waiting
eagerly to see you.”

“I know; I will see them

tomorrow.” Though he was tired, he

sat down for a while.

“How come you failed the army

exams?”
“I got a suggestion book and

prepared well. But the questions were

different this year. Even college
students failed.”
 “It’s all a money game now.

Maybe you should prepare more next

year.”
“Maybe I should stay at home.”

Pravin looked at him in

surprise. His brother had always

dreamed of joining the army.

Diwakar saw his look and said,

“It will be difficult for the family if

both of us stay away. Aau and aama

are getting old and they need help.”

Pravin nodded. He understood
his reason but wondered how he
could abandon his childhood dream

so easily.
“I am tired, we will talk
tomorrow.” Pravin yawned and left.

Diwakar went back to his TV

program. Now that he was alone he

could enjoy the movie.

Nisha was seated on the bed

when Pravin came in. She was tired

and it was late. She got up and closed

the door.
“So finally you have time for
me,” she said with a smile.
 “I had to talk with everyone,

especially Aau and Diwa. Aau had a lot

of questions.”
Pravin changed and stretched

on the bed. He looked at her. He saw

the transformation from a college girl

he met at Peo to a housewife. When he

was here he could only see her as she

was, as a wife and friend. But living

away he saw only the family from a

distance. He saw them as a unit and

she was very much part of the total
picture. And this was what he wanted.
He wanted her to blend with the

family. More than his wife he wanted

her to be known as Nemsha (bride) of
Shevak’s family. That was the way of

the village.
“I also have something to tell

you.” She wanted to say all the things

she thought of and all the things she

couldn’t say on the phone.

“What? Do you have a problem

with Aama?”
“No no, she is good and loves
me very much. I could not have asked
for more.”

“Then?”
“I don’t have any issues.
Everyone is good and treats me well. I

just miss you all the time. Maybe it

would have been much better if you

stayed at home.”
“I also miss the family life. But

you know that I have to work. I have to

support the family. And there are no

options in this village. But I will try to

come more often.”
“I understand,” she said and
snuggled close to him inside the

blanket.
Pravin put an arm around her
and held her close. Nisha enjoyed the

warmth of his strong embrace.

“You must be tired. You better

sleep now,” she said.

Pravin was exhausted from the

long journey and soon fell into a deep

sleep.

It was early morning when

Pravin woke up from his dream. He
was sweating profusely. In his dream
he had felt Kishen’s wife holding him

tightly and pressing against him. And

then he realized it was Nisha. She was
sleeping peacefully. He sat up and got

a glass of water. He came back and

woke her up. He was already aroused

and made intense love with her. She

responded with equal passion. After a

while both fell asleep again only to

wake up with Parvati knocking at the

door.
It was Dawa who came to chant
the sacred hymns. The Lama from
Sangla only came for bigger events

like naming ceremonies. The villagers

would send Balbir or some other to
bring him and also take him back. But

this was a regular household event.

Dawa sat on a sheepskin and took out

his book of hymns. The red flag was

kept folded in front beside a twig of

pine, a small trishul (a three headed

iron spear) and a few flowers, which

Diwakar brought early in the morning.

Parvati kept the poltus in a plate along
with some wheat, rice and a bottle of
liquor. Dawa’s nephew, the chotey

lama, also accompanied him. Dawa

read the hymns while his nephew
sprayed the flag with the twig, dipping

it into the liquor after each chapter

was finished. The family sat in a row

with folded hands praying to God to

save them from storms and other

natural disasters.
After about an hour, Dawa

finished reading the hymns. The flag

was then tied to the long pole
especially procured from Kishori, who
excelled in cutting and collecting such

pieces from the forest. Dawa tied the

trishul and the twig on top of the pole.
A final hymn was recited and the flag

was raised on the eastern side of the

house. Shevak gave a five hundred-

rupee note to Parvati. Parvati gave it

to Dawa with one hand while the

other touched the elbow. She packed

some poltus, biscuit and nuts and

handed it to his nephew.

The family sat together for
breakfast. Today was a special day
and poltu was a delicacy. Parvati

passed on the leftover meat, but it was

mostly curry.
“I will not have meat today. I

will go to the temple for puja and cook

halwa,” Pravin said.

Cooking the halwa was a form

of service to the Devta. Normally,

people carried the ingredients and

firewood and, with some help from

friends and relatives, cooked at the

temple and served the gathering. But
this was restricted to the men folk
only. By custom, women were not

allowed to go in front of Devta or to

take part in any form of puja.
“You will need to buy the

sugar,” Parvati said. She was happy

that her son had not forgotten the

rituals and had faith in Devta. She had

heard that many people change once

they start living in the big cities.

“Nisha, help me pack the

poltus. Diwa will go out and distribute

it.” She got up and Nisha followed.
Both started making small
packets of poltus with newspapers

and soon Diwakar left with a bag. He

would have to go to fifteen houses in
the village, which included those of his

uncles, aunts and the village chief.

Pravin left soon for the temple

and Ria pulled Nisha to her room.

“I need your help again.”

“What for?” Nisha asked.

“I want to make one more card.

And this time it will be easy.”

“Is it for the same friend?” she
asked.
 “I will tell you later. Will do it?”

“Yes, but not now. I have a lot

of work to do. I need to wash your
Aaté’s clothes, cook, and then, if I have

the time, I will do it.”

“Okay, let’s do it when I get

back from school.”

Nisha nodded and Ria left

singing a popular Hindi number. She

was in high spirits.
 Chapter 12

Pravin reached the temple with two of his

friends and found a small crowd outside.

The Devta was speaking through the Gur.

He informed Pravin that he was unclean.

The Devta can be unclean for many

reasons. He then informed him that it was
Amarchand who had come the day before

after eating eggs. It was forbidden to

come to the temple after having eggs,
fish, or chicken. And the Devta was

always correct. The crowd went to

confront Amarchand. Either he had to

provide a goat for sacrifice or pay the

cost for the sacrificial goat. Only such a

sacrifice would sanitize the Devta.

Pravin left with his friends. He

decided to perform puja the next day.

They crossed the river and went down

the riverside. Pravin looked at the

changing terrain. The poplars by the

side of the road were loaded with

grass bundles for drying, which

wrapped around their branches and
looked like the old saints with uncut
beards. The naked white branches

spread against the turquoise sky and

shivered with the wind that blew
across the valley searching for the few

leaves that still clung to them. The

sunburned stacks of buckwheat hay

stood quietly in solemn remembrance

of the poor yield. The potato fields

that survived the snowfall awaited

excavation. The river still flowed,

nestled between the peaks that stood

in silent solitude adorned with pines,
deodars and the bhujpatra. The sound
of the river overlapped the noise of

the dead leaves dancing in the gusts of

wind.
This was his village, his home

and this was where his roots lay. They

crossed the bridge and climbed the

narrow path toward the new mobile

tower. They reached a clearing and

stopped. Pravin sat down on a large

rock with his friends. He breathed

deeply and glanced around. From his

vantage point he could look out over
the whole village. He could see the
road and women moving with bundles

of grass, hay and firewood on their

backs. He could see children going to
school, little boys rotating their books

on a finger above their heads, little

girls swinging their pigtails, stray

cows browsing for grass, and alpine

choughs moving in flocks across the

village sky. And then he saw their own

patch of land. From a distance it

looked small. The few stacks of hay

indicated the pitiable harvest. He felt
worried. A division of this field
between him and baya would result in

disaster. Neither of them could

survive on such small pieces of land.
He was more concerned for his baya.

He himself had a job and was

confident he could move on. But Diwa

was young and had not seen much of

the world. He could only sustain

himself with farming. And then there

was the cost of extending the house

once he too got married. True, the

apple orchard was there. But it only
provided for cash expenses and the
huge winter ration to sustain the

family for six months. He realized that

this was a serious issue and maybe
this was why aau was worried most of

the time.
***

Shevak looked around for Sonu,

another local driver who had a bigger

car than Balbir. He would need Sonu if

he had to carry the apples to Shimla.

He walked down to Lalaji’s shop and

saw a small crowd there. Dayawanti
was creating a loud commotion. It was
a common scene except this time she

was abusing some invisible victim. In

the morning she had left a bundle of
notes, about two thousand rupees, on

the counter and had taken a short

break. While she was gone the money

had disappeared. In the village there

was virtually no theft except for a few

singular, rare incidents. No one locked

their homes; they just shut their

doors. Lalaji was furious.

“You are careless and an idiot
too! You should be more careful as
there are a lot of laborers nowadays.”

“No laborers would dare touch

my money. And they don’t come so
early in the morning.”

“Then my dead father came

and took it!” he said sarcastically.

“I don’t know who took it, but I

will find out within a day.”

“You better do that; it’s my

sweat and labor.”

“As if I sit here all day skinning

nuts!” Dayawanti was visibly offended
with his selfish remark.
 “I will be going to Chitkul

tomorrow morning and meet the

Deviji.”
The Goddess at Chitkul was

known widely for her power in tracing

out thieves and stolen goods.

Everyone was afraid of her power and

took her help when in trouble. The

crowd dispersed, agreeing that this

was the right decision. Soon the news

spread across the village and many

came to the shop to console her. Such
things were rare and considered
inauspicious.

***
Diwakar came back from
distributing the poltus. He still had

most of the day ahead of him and

wanted to spend it with his aaté. The

temple was closed awaiting

sanitization and he thought aaté

would be home.
“Do you know where your Aaté

is?” Nisha asked him the moment he

entered.
“No, I thought he was at home.
The temple is closed and he is not

there.”
“Then he must be with his
friends.”

Nisha went back inside. Both

the women had taken the day off from

the fields. While Parvati was knitting a

sweater for Ria, Nisha was cooking

Gucci (cauliflower mushrooms). Gucci

was a rare delicacy found in the higher

reaches at certain times of the year.

The young boys went in groups to
collect it during the monsoon. It
commanded a very high price and

though most of it was sold the

villagers dried and kept a few for
themselves.

Diwakar watched her cook

with some packed spices.

“I can smell something good,”

he said with a smile.

“I saw this spice on TV and got

it from Lalaji.”

Parvati wondered why any of

them needed to buy spices when she
had enough stock of garlic and red
chilies. She used them in most of her

dishes and everyone liked it.

By evening Dayawanti got the
money back. The crook, whoever it

was, had simply dropped the bundle

on the shop floor in one corner. He

must have come with the crowd and

slipped it in when no one was

noticing. Dayawanti was ecstatic.

“Look at the power of Deviji!

Just one mention of her name and we

got the money back.”
“You better be careful next
time,” Lalaji said.

Dayawanti ignored his

comment and went on to treat
everyone to free tea. Lalaji sat back

and smoked his bidi.

Nisha drew the pictures for Ria

and she was happy. Drawing the dog

was the difficult part; it looked like

something between a goat and a cat.

But that was okay. The drawing was

finished with colors, the trees green,

the birds orange, and the dog blue.
The boy and the girl were stick
figures; the boy in red trousers, the

girl in a green skirt.

“I have one last request,” Ria
said. “Please write the word ‘picnic’ at

the bottom.”
Nisha smiled and complied.

“So, you want to meet him

during the picnic?”

Ria looked at her and blushed.

She smiled and ran away with the

card.
Shevak met Sonu late in the
evening when he came back from Peo.
“I am thinking of taking the apples to

Shimla.”
“No problem, Uncle. Tell me
when you want to go.”

Sonu was about thirty, and by

relation, Shevak was his distant uncle.

But they were more like friends. “How

is the road?”

“Okay except for a small block

at Kuppa.” Kuppa was six kilometers

from Sangla and due to heavy erosion

had suffered frequent landslides.
“How much delay in crossing
it?”

“Not much, about an hour. The

PWD (Public Works Department) men
are working on it.”

“Fine, maybe I will leave in a

day or two. I will let you know.”

“Will you come back the same

day?”

“We will see, maybe we will

spend a day there.”

“No problem. I know Shimla

well and I will take you around.” Sonu
smiled. Sonu had been brought up
outside the village. He lived with his

father at Johuri, a place beyond

Karcham, while his mother took care
of the farm at the village. He traveled a

lot and was happy and content with

his work.

It was late and getting dark.

Shevak got up and left for home.

Pravin came back and saw

Diwakar playing a song on his mobile

while Nisha stood near the window.

The TV was on but no one was
watching. Diwakar stopped the music
and smiled at his aaté.

“Why did you stop the song?”

Nisha turned and saw Pravin.
“Where have you been all day?”

Nisha asked. “He has been waiting for

you all afternoon.”

“I had to meet many people,”

Pravin said and sat down.

“I will make some tea,” Nisha

said.

“Have you stopped going to

school?” Pravin asked his brother.
“We have a holiday now before
our finals. But tell me about Solan.”

“There’s nothing much to tell

about Solan. It’s just another city.
There’s a temple, a big garden, and a

market. But my site is a bit far away,

and I only get time off on Sundays.”

“Can I come and stay with you

sometime?”

“Not yet. I don’t have a nice

place to stay,” he lied.

And then he remembered

Gangaram, Rampur, and Raju. He
decided to make a call to Ganga
Bhaiya. Nisha came in, served tea, and

sat down with them. Pravin told them

about his experience in Peo and then
about Solan. He told them how

difficult it was for a Kinnauri. He did

not mention his short stint at the

restaurant but told about his work, his

extra shifts, and about Raju.

“I can see it’s a difficult life.

Maybe you should stay here,” said

Diwakar.
Pravin looked at him and knew
his concern was genuine. “But we only
have a small piece of land and it’s not

enough for the family. Soon you will

get married and the family would
grow.”

Diwakar was a bit startled. He

blushed, looked up at Nisha, and then

looked down.
“I will not marry.”

“We will find a beautiful girl for

you,” Nisha said.

“No need, I am happy as I am.”

“Everyone needs to marry. If
you don’t, who will take care of you in
your old age?” Pravin asked.

Diwakar once again looked at

Nisha but only for a split second
before he turned toward the window.

He wanted to say that she would be

there. “I can take care of myself.” He

did not like this discussion. He had no

plans to marry; his dream was

something different.
“I am hungry,” Diwakar said

and left the room.

“I hope you are taking good
care of him,” Pravin said, looking over
at Nisha.

“He is nice and adorable,”

Nisha said and smiled.
At dinner, the men and Ria sat

first and Nisha served the gucci with

pancakes. She waited anxiously for

comments.
“It’s great! I will have extra

pancakes tonight,” said Diwakar.

Pravin ate silently. His mind

was working on many things.

Gangaram was at the top of the list. He
knew he had to break the news sooner
or later to his aau.

“Aaté, how do you like the

gucci?”
“It’s okay, but has too much

spices. I like the way Aama makes it.”

Nisha was half in tears. She

turned her face and looked away.

Diwakar looked at her and realized

she was hurt.

“She made it especially for you

with great care.”

Pravin did not realize what was
wrong with telling the truth. “I said it’s
okay.”

He continued with his food and

had an extra pancake. After dinner,
Shevak and Pravin left for the other

room. Nisha and Parvati ate silently,

though Nisha had just one pancake

and fiddled with her food. Parvati

finished and left for her room.

“I know you are hurt, but

please don’t take it to heart.” Diwakar

saw two drops roll down her cheeks.

He felt sorry for her. “Aaté is like that.
He speaks without thinking. But he
loves you. Please calm down.”

Nisha wiped her face, got up,

and washed the plates.
Shevak watched news on TV

while Pravin sat on one side. Nearly

everyone in the village watched news

and had a lot of fun discussing the

headlines the next day at Lalaji’s shop.

Mostly it was the news on corruption

running into billions that provided the

greatest amusement. Politics and

other affairs could not touch the poor
villagers and except for a couple of
them, no one had any savings or

money either. There was no

newspaper and no one felt the need
for one.

“I have a job offer from

Rampur.”

Shevak looked at Chotu but

remained silent. He knew more would

be coming.
“The money is better and it’s

closer to home.”
“Think it over and decide for
yourself. One of you needs to work
outside. I don’t mind if both of you

work. We will then stop farming and

get rid of the cows.” Pravin knew this
was not from his heart. At heart, his

aau was a farmer like all the other

villagers and it ran in his blood.

Shevak stubbed his bidi, stood up, and

left for his room.

Parvati was awake. She also felt

bad for Nisha but knew that Pravin

was like his father. Shevak never

thought before he spoke. He said
whatever came to his mind. She
remembered her initial days after

marriage when she felt hurt on many

occasions. She even stopped talking
for a few days. But then she realized

he was like that. At heart, he was good

and took care of everyone. But he had

a rough and arrogant approach to

everything. She thought maybe it was

the harsh conditions of survival that

made him like that. The only solace

was with her children, spending time

praying and chanting hymns.
Pravin found Nisha sleeping
with her hands folded and covering

her face. He shut the light off and

stretched out beside her. Nisha turned
to her other side, putting her back

toward him. He glanced at her and

prepared to sleep. He had many things

moving around in his mind. He knew

she was upset but it was not in his

nature to say soft words. For him, a

wife or a woman was just a helping

hand in the family. He thought about

his new assignment at Rampur for a
while. And then he slept.
 Nisha stayed awake for quite

some time. She realized she was over

enthusiastic with the cooking. She
should not have tried something new.

She hoped that he would at least talk

once. She did not expect him to say he

was sorry or anything. Just a touch or

maybe a few words. And then she

heard him breathing deeply and knew

he was asleep. And then she slept.

Shevak was up early as usual.

He wanted to pack the apples. It would
take a full day to pack them and then
another to seal the boxes. He woke up

Diwakar.
“Call Chotu. We need to pack
the apples. I wish to leave day after

tomorrow.”
Parvati and Nisha made

pancakes.
“I will finish the puja at the

temple and join you,” Pravin said.

The three had breakfast and

Shevak and Diwakar went to the

orchard. On the way, Shevak stopped
to inform Sonu.
 They walked down to Dongri,

their winter home. The road was cut

across the hills, which rose just
beyond the village. It went downward

and after crossing the village, the

entire valley opened up at the bend.

The river ran below on the left across

the gorge bouncing over and

splashing against large yellow and

brown rocks. A few boulders even had

trees growing in the cracks while a

few others were covered with moss.
Barbets, wagtails, and red and green
finches crowded the gorge and

chirped and chattered merrily making

a symphony with the roar of the river.
The boulders caused the river to

break up into streams that again

reunited after a few yards and

continued their downward journey

across the valley.

Far away on the eastern side

they could see the road winding down,

sometimes visible and sometimes

disappearing beyond the bends. The
hills sloped down from both sides
while the river went undulating in

between, teasing both. Orchards and

farmlands crowded the banks with a
few huts and heaps of grass and hay

stacked in places. The peaks on the

west stood proud, holding the sun on

their white caps. The small wisps of

cloud that floated above played with

the shadows on the grassy meadows

across the faraway slopes near Sangla.

Beyond that everything faded into a

blue mist. They reached the bridge
and were greeted by the angry rumble
of the stream, which flowed below it

in its mad final rush toward the river.

The sun barely reached this corner
except during the early hours and the

place was filled with the smell of rocks

and a cool mist that floated above

them. A narrow pathway went down

from one corner of the bridge and

ended near a crevice filled with marsh

marigolds swinging their little heads

with the breeze. Two bulbuls chirped

and hopped across the rocks.
Reflections of the sky quivered in
small pockets of water nestled among

the rocks.
At the next bend in the road
they saw the orchards. The trees

stood bare except for a few shivering

leaves that glittered in the morning

sun. A part of their orchard was next

to the Dongri while the other was

across the road. The Dongri was a

wooden house built on a one tier of

land. It was set far down the valley

with a fairly large courtyard in front
and a stream flowing through the
backyard. It only had two rooms and a

space for cooking. A lower tier was for

the cows and laborers. Grass, hay, and
branches were stored in a corner shed

and a big fireplace, used for brewing

liquor, occupied another part of the

compound. A small wooden

storeroom stood on the east. It was

used for storing the winter ration of

dried meat, vegetables, and seeds. The

house was way down from the road

but in winter, it received a bit more
sunlight than the village. Being a
thousand feet down, it was warmer

too.
Pravin joined them soon after
he returned from the temple. He saw

the orchard and again felt pain. Most

of the trees had been damaged by the

snowfall. Many dead branches lay on

the ground below the trees. He knew

that the family had put in every effort

to save the orchard and it must have

been heartbreaking for his aau. He

saw the graded apples in the
courtyard where aau and baya were
packing them in cartons. Most of them

were medium to small, but a few were

big. A pile of apples with marks on
them lay in one corner. He knew these

would be used for making liquor.

Pravin started putting the

apples in trays according to their sizes

and placed them in cartons. By

afternoon they had finished most of

the packing. Diwakar went inside the

house and made tea for everyone.

Once the cartons were packed, they
stacked them near the entrance.
 “You both can carry on while I

arrange for a few laborers,” Shevak

said. Laborers were needed to seal the
boxes with straps and also to bring

them up near the road.

“Do you need more tea?”

Diwakar asked.
“No, I will make more if

needed.”
When the brothers left, they

were munching on apples. Aau was a

self-sufficient person and rarely called
for help. They always felt happy
helping aau in any kind of work.

Pravin remembered his childhood

days when he went with his aau,
carrying his tools and passing him the

pliers and wrenches. The brothers

climbed up the rocky stairway and hit

the road. Pravin saw the other orchard

standing in an equally pitiful state

with broken branches still hanging

from the trees waiting to be trimmed

and taken down.

“So you and Aau spent the
night at the orchard?” Pravin asked
Diwakar.

“Yes, but we could not save

much.”
“I can see that. It will be four or

five years before the branches grow

back.”

Ahead, a few girls walked with

loads of firewood and soon they

caught up with them.

“Chotu Bhaiya, how are you?

You seem to have forgotten us,” one

girl said.
“Now that he has a beautiful
wife!” another said and everyone

laughed.
“I remember all of you, and
even if I have a wife, my brother is still

a bachelor,” Pravin said.

“But he is shy and never speaks

with us.”
Pravin looked at his brother,

who smiled and looked the other way.

They moved on, leaving the girls

behind.
“It’s not that I don’t talk to
them. But most of them don’t talk
about anything except films.”

“Girls are like that, except my

Nisha, of course. But is that the reason
you don’t want to marry?”

Diwakar remained silent. Aaté

was more than a brother—he was a

friend, too. But he could not open his

heart to him, at least not on this

subject.
“What if I find a girl like Nisha

for you?”
Diwakar looked at him. He
wondered how he could read his
mind.

“Maybe yes,” he said.

Pravin saw nothing in his
expression except for the hint of a

smile in his eyes. He remained silent

for the rest of the journey. Diwakar

saw his brother in deep thought and

wondered what was going on in his

mind.
Parvati and Nisha were coming

back from the field with bundles of

grass on their backs.
“I know you are upset but life is
like that. Men have no feelings for us.

We work all day and in return, what

we get are unkind words. It’s a curse
to be born a woman.”

Nisha said nothing; she had a

stoic expression on her face.

“I have been living with this for

so long,” Parvati said. “I have given up

hope and now pray to God that in the

next life he makes me a mule. Even a

mule gets a pat after carrying his load

all day.”
Nisha felt sorry for her. Parvati
was in her mid-forties and Nisha

understood the mountain of pain

hidden inside her.
“Chotu is like his father. He has

a short temper too but he does not

abuse like him. Maybe you should try

to adjust.”
“I will. It was my mistake after

all to try something new. ” Nisha

nodded and both walked beside the

river toward home.

***
Ria was in high spirits when
she arrived home. Lila had helped her

pass the card to Jeet and speak with

him. He said he was ready to meet her.
She could not sleep at night. Though

she had done this many times before,

she planned the dialogue over and

over again. She wanted a perfect start

for the chronicle that she hoped would

only end in the city of glitter beyond

the hills.
 Chapter 13

Sonu came quite early and blew his horn.

Parvati was up already. After serving

breakfast, she packed almonds, biscuits,

and a few apples and gave them to

Shevak. Shevak shaved and trimmed his

drooping, overgrown moustache. He
changed from his regular pajamas to

trousers and put on a woolen waistcoat.

He packed all the food in Diwakar’s
school bag and hung it on his shoulder.

Both the brothers were also ready. They

would help him load the apples along

with the laborers. Shevak closed his eyes

for a moment and prayed. And then all of

them left. Parvati stood at the gate with
folded hands. She prayed for their safety
and success.

The laborers were waiting on

the road. The brothers got down and

all of them loaded the apples while

Sonu stood on top of the vehicle

arranging the boxes. He then put a

plastic cover over them and tied all
sides with a rope. It was a two-seater
Jeep and there was no place for a third

passenger unless someone was

flexible enough to fit between the two
seats with legs placed around the

gearshift at difficult angles. Shevak

checked everything one last time and

got into the Jeep. Sonu started the

player and inserted a CD with

religious songs. He lit two incense

sticks and placed them on the

dashboard in front of a small photo of

Devta. He folded his hands, murmured
something inaudible, and started the
engine. Shevak also folded his hands

in prayer. Sonu waved at the two

brothers and changed gears. Both
brothers stood and watched until the

car turned a far bend and disappeared.

***

Parvati had a mild fever. She

shifted near the bukhari and sat next

to the fire.
“I will make you a thupka,”

Nisha said.
Ria ran out and got a packet of
maggi. In the village, a thupka and a
thung were the best remedy for a

fever, flu, and cold. While thupka was

made with noodles in excess water,
thung was a concoction of wild tea

(herbs), butter, salt, and hot water

prepared in a hollow bamboo canister.

Nisha served the thupka and

sat next to her. After Parvati was done,

she placed a woolen shawl on her and

folded the sides. Then she went

outside and brought in more logs,

which she set near her along with a
flask of hot water.
 Parvati watched her. She was

touched by her sincerity. She felt

fortunate to have a nemsha like her.
Then she wondered about the other

bride who would come once Diwa got

married. What kind of girl would she

be; would there be peace in the house;

where would they stay; how would the

farm be divided? She pondered these

questions until she felt exhausted. She

closed her eyes and started chanting

hymns.
“Aama, I will go for the grass.”
 “Okay, take Diwa with you.”

She assumed that Chotu must be busy

with his friends since he would only
be there for a few days.

“I have kept pancakes for you

also. Please rest today and don’t do

anything strenuous.”
“I won’t,” Parvati said and

smiled at her. She watched her as she

left with sickle and ropes.

***
Sonu knew Shevak was a
serious kind of man and spoke little.
He remained busy with the music and

over a period of time, he changed

from religious songs to popular
numbers. It was a long journey of

approximately twelve hours and it

always helped if someone chatted. He

tried thinking of something to say to

strike up a conversation.

“Your elder son is doing fine

now. I heard he is working in Solan.”

“Yes, he is working there but I

don’t know if he is doing good or bad.”
“It’s always good to have an
earning son. There are not many boys

in the village who have the guts to go

outside and make a living.”
Shevak nodded but did not

show any reaction to his statement.

“And what about Diwa? When

do you plan to get him married?”

“Maybe soon,” Shevak said and

then added, “Do you have a girl in

mind?” He regretted his question

immediately as he knew that Sonu

was not the right person for such an
inquiry.
 “I know many but you need to

tell me what kind of girl you are

looking for.”
Shevak remained silent for a

while and then said, “We will discuss

that later.”

He once again thought about

his younger son’s marriage and the

problem it posed. He lit a bidi and

looked ahead. The Jeep had already

crossed familiar terrain and was now

passing Karcham. He felt thirsty for
tea and decided to ask Sonu to stop
briefly at Tapri.

***
Nisha was in a cheerful mood.
Last night he had come to her. It was

not that he said he was sorry. He just

came and forced himself on her. She

tried resisting but he overpowered

her. At first she kept still but soon

responded to his fierce lovemaking.

She enjoyed every moment of it but

pretended otherwise. She did not feel

like it was a routine duty. It seemed
like a kind of embrace, his way of
reconciliation. Maybe a bit primal but

she relished it. Only later, when he

held her close, did she kiss him. She
also massaged his back for a while.

She hoped he would join them in the

field, as it would be much fun with the

two of them.
The brothers were on the road

chatting with a few men. Nisha waved

at Diwakar and handed him a sickle

and the ropes.

“Ask your Aaté to come with
us.”
 Diwakar ran and soon came

back.
“He said he would be going to
the village to meet the chief. He has

some important matters to discuss

with him.”

“Let’s move on then. He will

always be busy,” Nisha said.

Both went across the road

toward the river. The river lost much

of its splendor except for the exposed

banks, which now invited the wagtails
for a feast. They hopped on the flat
white sand banks and created

patterns with their tiny feet. The

bushes that filled the nooks and
corners with colorful flowers now

stood bare with barbs. In the absence

of leaves, the wind sang a different

song among the trees. Diwakar saw

Nisha in a jovial mood, swinging the

sickle and humming a song. She wore

a scarf tying her hair in a knot and

moved elegantly among the trees. He

wondered if there could be another
girl like Nisha.
 They walked the far length of

the field and reached the meadows.

Both started cutting grass and made
small bundles. The sun was bright and

it bathed the peaks. A few eagles flew

high above gliding across the valley

and riding the wind. The leaves

whispered with each gust of wind and

the river ran with an angry rumble as

it hit the bend below the meadows.

“Why don’t you want to

marry?” Nisha asked him.
He glanced at Nisha and
realized she was simply teasing him.

“I am happy as I am.” He
pretended to be serious.
“But who will look after you?”

“You are there.” He did not look

at her and continued with his work.

“But I will have children and

there is aama and aau to look after.

How will I find time for you? And what

if your aaté takes me to Rampur?”

“Did he say he would?”

Diwakar was serious now.
Nisha looked at him and broke
into laughter. “No, he didn’t,” she said,

assuring him.
“Please don’t go. Aaté has
already gone and if you leave also…”

He did not finish.

Nisha could see his genuine

concern. She felt sorry for him. “I

won’t. I will stay here in this village,”

she said with a smile.

Diwakar smiled too and got

back to work. His demands were not

much. He just wanted her to be at his
side.
 From the road Pravin watched

his baya and Nisha moving along the

pathway. From a distance they looked
like a happy couple devoted to

farming. He smiled to himself. He

noticed that his aama was absent

today. He assumed she must be at

home. But first he had to meet the

village chief. The village was wasting

money in solar lights when they could

spend the same amount or maybe a

bit more and install a hydro-plant.
This could provide free electricity for
the entire village and also generate

employment for a couple of men. He

left his friends and went to the chief’s
house.

***
The Jeep reached Selaroo. Both

Sonu and Shevak were hungry. Sonu

stopped the car at a roadside dhaba. It

was much warmer and Shevak washed

his face by splashing cold water on it

from a hand pump. Both had dal, rice,

and vegetables and then rested a
while. Sonu stretched out on a cot
lying outside, and Shevak lit a bidi and

looked around. He had rarely traveled

this far from his village.
“It will be late when we reach

Shimla,” Sonu said.

“We will find a place to stay.

And we need to park the car in a safe

place.”

“No problem, Uncle. I know a

small hotel which will allow us to park

in the compound.”
“That’s great, but how much is
the charge for a night?”
 “Not much, around three

hundred for both of us, and tea is

free.”
Shevak thought for a while and

nodded. He got up and bought a

packet of cigarettes. He rarely smoked

cigarettes but this was a special

occasion.

***
Pravin came back home feeling

dejected. The village chief listened to

him half-heartedly and said he would
look into the hydroelectric plant idea.
Pravin knew it was a diplomatic

answer. He expected more questions.

At home he found Parvati seated by
the fire, knitting.

“Are you unwell?”

“I had a fever but now I am

feeling better. Do you want tea?”

“Yes, but I will make it.”

Pravin made tea and then sat

down with her. Parvati wondered

what happened to her son that he

preferred spending time with her
instead of his friends. She knew
something was different because he

would rarely make his own tea.

“You could have joined Nisha
and Diwa.”

“No, I have something to

discuss with you.” It was good that

she was alone. It would be easier to

convince her first and then the others.

“Our farmland is small and the house

has only two rooms.”

Parvati nodded. She knew this

and tried to figure out what he was
trying to say. “Soon we will have to get
ready for Diwa’s marriage but then…”

he paused and looked at her. He could

see she also shared the same concern.
“I know, and that’s what keeps

me awake all night. We need money

for the marriage, then to add rooms,

and then again for Ria’s marriage.

Your aau’s savings are almost

nothing.”
He had been thinking about

this for the past few days. Like his

father, Pravin was a man of few words
and thought he should come straight
to the point.

“What if we brothers share

Nisha?”
Parvati was startled. It came as

a big surprise to her. For a moment,

she could not comprehend the depth

of the statement. And then it sank in.

True, this was a custom and had been

followed for thousands of years but it

was not a widespread practice. In

some families, three to four brothers

shared one wife to keep the farmland
undivided under a single name. Even
Shevak’s two brothers were married

to one wife and they had the highest

portion of the land among all of them.
Some said it started from the

Pandavas as mentioned in mythology.

Though one brother, Arjun, got the

bride—Draupadi as a prize displaying

his skills with a bow and arrow—all

five brothers married her and shared

her among them. They decided the

days of a week between them when

one brother would be with her and
others stayed away. The custom was
old in this region and over the years, it

proved to have an economic benefit.

The family remained together,
offspring were limited, and land

remained undivided. And without land

they were nothing; they had no means

to survive.
But it called for trust,

responsibility, and great

understanding between the brothers,

and also the bride. Parvati realized

where he was coming from.
Pravin saw her startled face
and her thoughtful eyes. He knew it

would not be easy. “Do you think Diwa

would agree? He might have other
plans.”

“I will ask him and tell him

what is best for the family. If I am

willing to share her then he should not

have a problem. Also, he doesn’t have

any plan as yet. I only want to know if

you are with me.”

Parvati hesitated to speak her

mind. She knew that it was between
the brothers and if they decided it was
to be, she could not stop them. And

once Diwa agreed, he would be bound

to it and the land would remain intact.
A brother who broke the common

marriage in order to marry another

woman not only had to forfeit his

share of land but also ran the risk of

being convicted for rape. That was the

agreement and custom in these

villages.

“Did you talk with Nisha?”

Parvati knew that her opinion
was not important and did not count.
If the brothers agreed, that was

enough. The only duty Nisha had was

to take care of both the brothers
equally. And bear children for both.

The brothers would decide how to

share her and generally it was

alternate months. But still she needed

to be informed.

“I will inform her when the

time comes. And it’s only two of us,

not three, four, or five. I don’t think it

will be a problem for her. But don’t say
or discuss anything with anyone; I
want your word on that.”

“I won’t, but what about your

father?”
“He is a practical man. He will

realize that we are doing this for the

family. And if we all are in agreement,

he will be with us.”

“I am not sure about him and

the way he thinks. As for me, I will

wait for Diwa’s opinion and listen to it

myself.”
She had a special place for
Diwa in her heart and she would not
like him to be deprived of his choice if

he had one.
They heard Ria coming back
from school and stopped the

discussion.
“You must promise me not to

discuss this with anyone, especially

Nisha,” Pravin said.

Parvati nodded and Pravin left

for the other room.

In the field, Nisha and Diwakar

twined the grass in bundles using
vines. Some of the bundles would be
kept on the trees while the others

would be carried back and kept at the

Dongri and used as food for the cow.
The cow was important, not for the

milk but for its manure, which was

free and was used to maintain the

fertility of the soil year after year.

During winter the livestock stayed

with them at the Dongri and fed on

dried grass, buckwheat hay, and dried

leaves for the period when snow

covered the valley.
***
 Shevak and Sonu reached

Shimla at night. They had a light

dinner of black dal and chapatti and
slept. In the morning they drove down

to the dealer. Shevak had a little over

two hundred crates of apples.

Although the sizes were medium and

small, the quality was good. There was

some negotiation with the rate but

finally they settled on four hundred

rupees per crate and Shevak was

happy. It was a hundred rupees more
per crate than he expected and that
meant a great deal to him.

“You are going to give me a

treat today,” Sonu said.
“Why not? We will have dinner

at a good restaurant.”
“Not only dinner, I want some

good English drinks.”

“Okay, but you know I don’t

drink.”
“That’s okay, you just keep me

company.”
Shevak nodded and they went
to the main market. Shevak deposited
most of the money at the bank and

kept a few thousand rupees with him.

They roamed around the market and
Shevak browsed the hardware stores

for tools and gadgets. He also bought

medicines and pesticides for the

orchard and seeds for farming. Later

they had dinner and Sonu took him to

a dance place. Sonu drank while

Shevak smoked cigarettes and

watched the bar girls dance to the

beat of popular songs. He even gave a
few ten-rupee notes to the girls on
Sonu’s advice. He soon pulled Sonu up

from the table, as they needed to leave

early the next morning.
***

It was a sunny morning and the

brothers decided to get firewood from

the higher reaches, where there were

many dead trees and branches. Dried

wood burned better and gave off

fewer fumes. Diwakar was excited; it

had been a long time since he had

gone anywhere with his aaté. He
remembered his childhood trips when
aaté showed him how to trek, what to

look for to avoid danger, how to find

hidden herbs and much more. He took
nuts and apples in his pocket and also

his mobile. The brothers picked up

axes and ropes and made for the door.

“Don’t carry too heavy a load,

or else you will have back pain,”

Parvati said.
“We won’t,” Pravin said.

“And be careful about the

bears.”
“They will be scared of us,
Aama,” Diwakar said and smiled.

“Be back early,” Nisha said and

waved at them.
She watched the two of them

leave and went back inside. Parvati

was much better today but still weak.

She sat near the fire and watched

Nisha. A thousand thoughts crossed

her mind.
“Aama, do you want to say

something to me?”
“No, just make some rice and
rajma dal today,” Parvati said and
went back to her knitting.

The brothers walked through

the village and climbed up the path
parallel to the stream. Then they went

diagonally right and up toward the

ridge. This was a route the shepherds

used. The shepherds operated in

groups of three or four. Each group

took care of four herds, totaling about

forty to forty-five sheep. They took

the sheep to plateaus in the higher

altitudes for grazing and stayed with
them all summer. The owners gave
them money, food, and liquor. Before

winter they came down with the

sheep and the owner accompanied
them for a short while before they

migrated to warmer pastures toward

Dehradun. Diwakar had a great

respect for these shepherds as they

endured all kinds of weather and lived

in tents year round. Pravin walked in

steady steps a bit ahead of his

brother. Diwakar remembered his

first trip when aaté often had to hold
his hand to cross the boulders and
climb up. He felt scared at that time

but aaté was always by his side. He

looked over at Pravin, who seemed to
be lost in thought.

They reached the forest and

found a clearing. The bhujpatra

outnumbered the oaks and deodars

and stood with their golden barks

shining in the shafts of sunlight. Like

papyrus in Egypt, saints in India wrote

hymns and made drawings in

astrology and astronomy on the
bhujpatra bark. The bark formed in
layers in golden yellow and was

smooth to the touch. It was

considered sacred and used in rituals.
The villagers believed this tree

protected them from lightning strikes

and many of them carried a small

piece with them. Pravin found a huge

dead branch and started cutting

pieces out of it. Diwakar started off

with another large branch. They

collected the pieces and piled them in

one place. By late afternoon they had
accumulated enough for two bundles.
Pravin felt tired. He sat down on a

rock and Diwakar took out the apples.

“I want to discuss something
with you,” Pravin said.

Diwakar looked at his aaté and

saw him gazing toward the ground. He

seemed serious.
“I don’t want our land to be

divided. I want the family to stay

together.” He paused.

“That is my wish too.”

“But if you marry, things will
change.”
 “Then I won’t marry, Aaté,”

Diwakar said promptly.

“That’s not a solution. I would
never be at peace that way. And a man

is never complete unless he marries

and has children.”

Diwakar looked at his aaté. He

had known him all his life and was

sure he would come up with a

solution.

“Nisha will be our common

wife. It is okay with me to share her
with you. You will take care of the
farming and I will earn from outside.

We will always remain together.” He

looked at his baya.
It was too much for Diwakar.

He was unable to think or speak; he

could scarcely breathe. The forest

moved in front of him, changing colors

from fall to autumn to spring. The

birds sang; his dreams moved in front

of his eyes, the horse, the house, and

the river. He could listen to distant

drums and his heart thumped loudly.
“Of course it depends on you. I
don’t want you to agree just because I

told you. I know you love me but you

might have your own dreams.”
Diwakar half opened his mouth

to say that this was his dream.

Instead, he hid his excitement and

simply asked, “Is Nisha aware of this

idea?”

“Not yet. If this arrangement is

acceptable to you, only then will I tell

Nisha. But are you okay?”

He wanted to shout “yes” at the
top of his voice and make it echo
across the peaks that surrounded

them. He felt grateful and looked at his

aaté. Nobody understood him better.
He nodded in both respect and

affirmation.
“I am okay and I also think this

is best for the family.”

Pravin felt relieved and hugged

him. “If we stand together there will

be no harm or trouble for the family. I

will come back next month again. If

you change your mind let me know,
but until then don’t discuss this with
anyone, especially Nisha.”

Diwakar nodded and then both

went off to pick up their loads. It
would take more time to go down, as

they had to be careful with every step.

In the valley a strong wind blew

from the southeast and gathered

speed. A storm built up and blew

across the peaks threatening the trees

and chasing the pigeons. The wind

carried dust and whirled it across the

tin roofs. The dark clouds put an
accent on the mighty peaks that stood
in solemn isolation braving the winds

as they had stood over the past

million years. The dead leaves rolled
and circled with the wild swirling

wind until the storm picked them up

and carried them far away.

***
Pravin left for Rampur early the

next morning. He went with Balbir to

Sangla and from there took a bus. He

had mixed feelings as the bus left the

town behind. On the one hand, he felt
happy and content with his decision
to share his wife with his brother; on

the other hand, he had a feeling that

Nisha might not like the idea. He truly
loved Nisha but his sense of

possession of her was never strong

enough to cloud his sense of

responsibility for the family. After all,

he thought, if he and his baya could

sacrifice so much then she should not

stand against them. She was very

much part of the family. And since

both he and his baya were in
agreement, she had no other choice
but to agree. He assumed that even if

she did not like the arrangement

initially, she would adjust with time.
He let his thoughts about the

matter drop and started making plans

for the upcoming Dewali festival

(festival of lights) when sales were

expected to be high.
 Chapter 14

It was the day of the picnic at school. Ria

glanced in the mirror. That morning she

had washed her hair and applied the

fairness cream three times. She first used

her hairclips but then decided she

preferred the red scarf aaté had given her.
Nisha came into the room and smiled at

her.

“Can I borrow your lipstick?”

Ria asked.
Nisha had one but she rarely
used it. She helped her put on the

lipstick and applied some kajal on her

eyes.
“You look very pretty.”

Ria smiled, looked at the

mirror one last time, and left. It was a

bright day with just a few streaks of

clouds running across the eastern sky.

Diwakar helped Parvati make a

list of goods she wanted for the winter

rations. It had rice, onions, cooking oil,

turmeric, salt, red chilies, matchboxes,
soap, and other things, mainly items
that were not produced locally. The

food distribution system run by the

state provided rations in one lot for all
four months of winter but the

quantity was not enough and did not

cover all the items. Moreover, it was

average quality but still everyone took

it.

“Aama, you forgot molasses.”

“No, I did not. We will get it

from Chandigarh. The white molasses

is better for brewing.” White molasses
was used with apples and apricots to
brew liquor while dark molasses

added a sweet flavor but also gave a

hangover.
“Add a pruning saw for the

orchard. Your Aau did not get a good

one at Shimla.”

“Can we add some noodles?”

Diwakar asked, smiling at Nisha.

“No, Aama, we can always get

the noodles from Lalaji,” Nisha said

quickly.
“You need to check with Balbir
about his next trip to Rampur. We also
need to get ready for moving to the

other house. We cannot leave the

rations unattended at the Dongri. The
rats will have a feast,” Parvati said.

The move to Dongri was a not a

major issue for the family. Over the

years Shevak has built the second

home and made it self-sufficient for

winter. Only the blankets, clothing,

and a few other things had to be

carried.
Shevak sat at Lalaji’s shop with
a few men. The next day was Dewali,
the festival of lights, which signaled

the beginning of the financial year for

the traders. Lalaji had a display of
firecrackers outside the shop. He was

also selling new calendars with

pictures of gods and goddesses, oil

lamps, candles, gift sets of cups and

glasses, dry fruits, sweetmeats,

bangles, hairclips, and more. The shop

looked colorful and Dayawanti was in

high spirits. She nagged everyone to

buy before the stock ran out.
Everyone knew the prices were high
but buying there saved a trip to

Sangla. Being poor, the villagers did

not indulge much except for the
children and the drunk who burned a

few firecrackers.
***

In Rampur, the market was in

full swing; people had been flooding

the streets since early morning.

Pravin had a hard time keeping up

with sales of the decorative lights and

the various fittings for them. By
afternoon, his stock ran out and he
asked Gangaram for fresh lots. Then

he left the shop with Raju to fix chain

lights at the local temple. Dewali was
celebrated in all temples and every

road was decorated with lights. After

he finished fixing the lights, Pravin

took Raju to a shop and bought him

some firecrackers. Raju was

overjoyed. He was staying with Pravin

in a room at one corner in Gangaram’s

house. The room was small but had a

bed and blankets.
“Tomorrow the shop is closed,”
Pravin said. “We will visit all the

temples.”
“Yes, and have some Chinese
food too.”

“In the evening we will burn

the firecrackers at home.”

“There is a puja at home.

Remind me tomorrow to buy some

sweets.” Pravin was very pleased

about working for Gangaram. He

allowed him to run the shop freely and

also took care of both of them, joining
them whenever he got a break from
his farm. They had their meals

outside, but every now and then,

Ganga’s mother sent them dinner
when she cooked something special.

***
Ria came back home floating

on air. After she reached school, they

had all gone near the waterfall a little

way from the village. Two of the

teachers cooked rice, dal, poltu and

some vegetables. In the past, they had

meat in their picnics, but the new
principal was a strict vegetarian and
did not permit meat anymore. The

students scattered all across the field.

While a few sang, some danced in
groups and most of them got into

games like kabaddi, cricket, and

volleyball in makeshift courts. Ria and

Lila found an isolated, quiet corner

with a big rock beyond the waterfall.

Ria decided to wait there while Lila

went to find Jeet. When Jeet reached

the spot, Lila stood guard on the other

side.
“I like the card you sent me.
And I have something for you.” He

took out a chocolate bar and smiled at

her.
Ria prepared to ask her

questions. But Jeet took her hand and

before she could say anything, he

pulled her close and kissed her. She

felt goose bumps all over her and a

strange wave passed through her,

stirring her to the very core. She had

seen a few kisses on TV, but she never

knew it felt like this. She closed her
eyes but she could still see the trees,
the birds, and the sky with a giant

rainbow. After a few seconds, he

moved back and smiled at her. Ria
could not find her words. She simply

smiled back. Jeet soon left and Lila

joined her.

“What did he say? Did you ask

him everything you wanted to ask?”

Ria said nothing; she just stood

there with a foolish smile on her lips.

She was on cloud nine.

***
Diwakar took a few tin sheets
and carried them on his head to

dongri. His aau told him to make a

shade for the firewood to protect it
from the snow. He hoped for a Jeep so

he could hop in but none came by so

he walked the entire way. At the

dongri, he selected a few straight logs

and dug holes to put them in. Once the

four logs were placed in four corners

he tied the others as beams and

placed the sheets on top of them; then

he moved the firewood inside. He sat
on a broken chair and looked around.
The kid and the lamb, now big enough,

stayed at the dongri. Tied with long

ropes, they munched on the orchard
grass and slept in the shade. The

house stood at the back and looked

shabby with bundles of grasses, twigs,

hay, and dried leaves all around it. A

part of the courtyard was filled with

cow droppings while large vessels and

cans for brewing lay strewn near

another corner. Ropes, shovels, axes,

and sickles cluttered the entrance. He
decided to clean up the place. After all,
this would be the place where he and

Nisha and the others would be staying

for the next few months. Though it
was far removed from his dream

house by the river, he would try and

make it as fresh and neat as possible.

The Dongri only had two

rooms. He knew he had to sleep on the

floor with aau and aama in one room

while Nisha and Ria slept in the other.

He wished that the marriage had

happened earlier and then both could
share one room while Ria moved to
the other room. He smiled at himself

and got up. He was full of energy and

in high spirits. He started with the
courtyard and by evening had cleaned

almost all of it. He cleaned a portion of

the courtyard where he decided to

make a seat for both of them. It was

close to the apple orchard and had a

good view of the valley below. Next, he

pruned the bushes growing around

the boundary, keeping the cuttings for

the cattle. He glanced around and felt
happy with his work. He decided to
put another bukhari in the other room

and to put the rest of the house in

order later.
***

It was Dewali morning and

Parvati left early for the temple to

offer puja. Nearly everyone in the

village offered puja during Dewali.

Nisha made pancakes and a dish of

mustard leaves for all. Ria had her

breakfast and nudged Diwakar. “Take

us to Sangla today.”
Sangla had a small fair during
Dewali and people from nearby

villages flocked there. Diwakar looked

at Shevak for his opinion. Shevak
glanced at Ria and smiled. “Take this

money.” He gave two hundred rupee

notes, first to one and then to the

others.
“Get some meat when you

come back.”
“But Aama is not back yet,”

Nisha said.
“I will tell her,” Shevak said and
the three got up to get ready.
 Ria made a mental list of things

she wanted to buy. It was a rare

opportunity and she wanted to make
the most of it. Nisha was also happy.

She had not been outside the village

since she came here. And she had

some money that Pravin gave her

when he left.

The three went to Lalaji’s shop

and found Balbir’s Jeep, which was

literally filled to overflowing. Even the

carrier in back was full. He shifted two
boys to the back in the carrier and
asked them to fit in. Diwakar sat in the

small seat in the middle while Nisha

sat next to the window. Ria sat half on
her and half on her brother. The back

seat had five people who adjusted

between them. Balbir was in a good

mood and promised a discount for

everyone. Diwakar played local folk

songs on his mobile all the way.

Nisha glanced out the window.

It had been a long time since she had

gone this route. Diwakar showed her
the bridge with the brook flowing
under it and the place where a flood

came and washed out some of the

orchards. When the car reached
Batseri, he showed her the temple

with red and yellow flags. They rode

along the river and watched its blue-

green water undulating across the

valley. Next, they came across the

peak that held the meadow for grazing

goats and sheep. He told her about the

shepherds who stayed there braving

the weather in all seasons. Balbir
stopped the car at the next bend. He lit
two incense sticks and went down to

place them at the Shiva temple on the

corner. He returned and drove the
Jeep down the slope where they saw

apricots and apples in full bloom.

Finally, they crossed the orchards and

were inside the market.

Sangla looked festive with

women flooding the streets in colorful

dresses. Stalls with firecrackers, toys,

snacks, shawls, garments, gifts stood

on both sides of the road.
“Both of you can walk around
and have a look. I will get the meat and

join you later,” Diwakar said.

Ria pulled Nisha over to one of
the stalls selling bangles, earrings,

clips and other items. She started

checking one after the other and was

soon confused. Nisha smiled and

helped her choose a few. Nisha bought

two sets of earrings, one for her, and

one for Parvati. They next moved to

the garments stall and Nisha bought

two scarves, one for her, and one for
Ria. She also bought a packet of
sweetmeat before they set off to roam

around the rest of the market. Soon

they came across a stall with a
peephole slide show and stood in a

queue to see it. The slides ran inside

an illuminated box while a popular

song played on a tape-recorder. It

showed images of famous places and

gods and goddesses. The show lasted

for five minutes and both came out

happy, having seen a world they

would never see for real.
They saw Diwakar coming
toward them with a pack of

firecrackers and a big smile.

“Let’s go and have something
to eat,” he said.

“Chowmein!” Ria said.

“And momo!” added Diwakar.

The three went to a restaurant

and had their fill. Nisha was enjoying

every moment, as this was a different

day for her and a break from the

routine work. The three went around

again and checked all the stalls.
Diwakar suggested they buy a set of
cups for the family and everyone

agreed. Nisha went back to one of the

stalls and got a big pack of diyas
(small earthen oil lamps). They then

checked out the robot-like

contraption with blinking red lights

forecasting the future in a mechanical

voice. Except for Ria, none of them

were interested in knowing their

future but listened to the device as it

told others of their futures. Ria

decided to save it for some other time
when no one was around; she did not
want the robot device to make her

plans public.
It took some time and some
honking for Balbir to collect his

passengers. Finally, he got most of

them and started back. Everyone was

happy and cheerful. Diwakar again

played the songs on his mobile but the

battery went dead after a few minutes.

***

Shevak sat at Lalaji’s shop in

the village and had a cup of tea. A few
children burned firecrackers and
every now and then, a loud bang went

off that scared the pigeons and sent

them flying from one corner of the
valley to the other. The sounds echoed

across the peaks and broke the

serenity of the otherwise peaceful

place. Half of the men who sat there

were already high on liquor while the

others were well on their way. Lalaji

sold most of his wares and for the rest

he offered a big discount. The goods

had a shelf life of only a few days and
then it would be dead stock for him.
Dayawanti distributed a few free

firecrackers to the children. She also

distributed sweets and biscuits to
Shevak and others sitting there. She

kept on shouting at all who planned to

burn firecrackers near her shop.

“Everyone be careful! Dry grass and

hay are stacked everywhere and could

catch fire at any moment,” she said.

Shevak nodded in agreement

and asked the children to move

toward the barren fields to burn their
firecrackers.
 “Don’t worry, the Devta will

save us all,” remarked Ravi, tapping

his feet to the music that came from
Lalaji’s shop. He was drunk as usual.

“Devta never saves the fool,”

Shevak said and got up to leave.

***
Ria and Nisha placed diyas

across the balcony and the

windowsills. They also placed two

bigger ones at the gate. When they ran

short of diyas, they placed candles in
patterns across the courtyard. Parvati
set a plate of dry coconut pieces,

biscuit, nuts, and toffee in front of a

picture of Lord Ganesha and Laxmi
(the god of wisdom and the goddess

of prosperity and wealth) and then lit

two incense sticks. She prayed for a

few moments for peace and

prosperity for the family. She then

offered the prasad to Nisha and Ria

and kept the rest for others. Shevak

came back and changed. He stood in

silence in front of the images and
folded his hands in prayer. He had
prasad from Parvati after which he

placed a spare bukhari in the

courtyard in which he laid some logs.
“Let’s sit outside,” he called to

everyone.
Diwakar was out with the

firecrackers that made loud noises. He

promised to be back early and asked

everyone to keep an eye on the field

toward the eastern peak, near the

waterfall. He and his friends made a

ten-headed Ravana (the demon god)
with dead branches and twigs. Each
head was fitted with firecrackers and

the body wrapped in coils of cloth

soaked with kerosene.
Shevak lit the fire and Ria

helped him with more logs. Parvati

made tea and carried it outside with a

plate of nuts. Meanwhile Nisha lit the

candles and the diyas and shut off the

room lights. The family sat in the

darkness except for the small

flickering flames all around and the

fire in the middle. Ria burned fuljhari,
which emitted small specks of flowery
sparks that danced all over. Shevak sat

smoking his bidi. Parvati closed her

eyes and sang an old folk song. Nisha
listened keenly to her.

A few moments later, the

silence was shattered by the noise of

firecrackers echoing across the peaks.

Ria pulled Nisha to the edge of the

courtyard and they saw the Ravana

burning at a distance. One by one, the

heads burst into flame. Finally, the

main head burst with a huge bang and
brilliant flames, making a series of
popping noises as the firecrackers

burst inside it. The ten-headed demon

stood glowing in flares. They could see
the boys shouting and dancing around

the demon silhouetted by the flames.

Ria clapped and announced, “The

demon is dead!”
***

Pravin and Raju first visited the

temple, which was located outside the

town. The temple was famous and

there was a long queue of disciples
waiting for a darshan (a view). They
bought a garland, flowers, and a pack

of sweets wrapped in sal leaves. They

finally emerged after the darshan with
big red tilaks on their foreheads.

Outside they had jalebis and puris

before returning to the town. The

town dazzled with lights and

firecrackers burst everywhere. Both

roamed around the market and the

streets for quite some time, and then

went back to their room where they

found Ganga waiting for them. He also
had firecrackers and sweets.
 “Let’s burn the crackers!” said

Raju who could not wait any longer.

They all sat in the courtyard
with Ganga’s mother, and Raju burned

the crackers, clapping and jumping

with each explosion.

Ganga performed the puja in

the morning. Dewali was a new year

for traders, many who worshipped

Goddess Laxmi. She represented

wealth and prosperity. Ganga’s

mother served dinner for everyone
and Pravin and Raju ate to their
heart’s content.

“This is the best day of my life,”

Raju said.
Both he and Pravin sat in the

courtyard late into the night watching

the rockets spreading glares as they

flew in the sky.

***

Diwakar came back and saw

Nisha seated next to the fire. Her face

glowed in the light of the dying

embers. She smiled and he sat next to
her, spellbound and captivated by her
beauty.

“You are late,” she said.

Diwakar pushed in a log and
smiled.

“Did you see the Ravana

bursting into flames?”

“Yes, we saw it. You’d better

eat your dinner before it gets cold. We

are all finished and everyone is

sleeping.”

“I am not hungry. I had enough

food at my friend’s place.”
Both sat quietly next to each
other enjoying the warmth of the fire.

Diwakar removed the lid and pushed

in a few logs. The flames leaped out
and he rubbed his hands to soak up

the heat. He again looked at Nisha. She

seemed like a divine beauty. He

wanted time to stand still for all

eternity. Soon he floated across to his

dream house.
“We will have a fireplace in our

courtyard where we will light a fire

every evening.”
“And you will play the flute
while we sit next to it.”

“I will play while you dance.”

“Then who will cook?”
“I will roast potatoes and meat

in the fire.”
“I can do that too,” smiled

Nisha.
“No, you will burn your

fingers,” Diwakar said and took her

hand.

They held hands and sat next

to the fire in the moonless night.
Above a million stars hung in a dark
veil blinking at each other while their

fingers made love in blissful isolation.

That night Diwakar had a
dream. He saw his aaté collecting

wood with him in a forest. Both

returned home and aaté arranged the

logs in the middle of the courtyard. He

then picked up a drum and went

inside the forest while he and Nisha

sat next to the fire. After a few

moments, they could listen to the

beats of the drum coming from a
distance. A leopard roared and they
saw flames chasing it. The beats

returned and Nisha got up and danced

while he played the flute. She wore a
purple scarf and her moist face

glistened in the orange glow from the

fire. She danced late into the night and

then slept in his arms. The fire died

but the full moon spread a silvery

glow across them.

 Chapter 15

Shevak was in the backyard waiting for

Diwakar. He watched Shankar roaming

leisurely around the barren fields looking

at the cows. He had multiple choices as

well as a strong libido. After all, he was

a yak and a bull owned by Devta himself.
The other bulls stayed away from his

huge bulk and he fathered the majority of

the calves. The villagers tolerated his
open display of passion and worshipped

him on special occasions. He often

became affectionate in the middle of the

road, causing cars and Jeeps to wait for a

long time.

The day before, Shevak had

brought one of his sheep down from

the shepherds. Diwakar joined him

soon and father and son offered the

sheep to Devta and sacrificed him.

The sheep was skinned and cut into

chunks. A few chunks would be passed

on to close relatives while the rest

would be kept for drying. In the
absence of vegetables, meat served as
an essential food for sustaining them

through the winter. Shevak kept the

blood in a bottle mixed with salt. He
rubbed sand and salt on the skin to

speed up drying. Once dried this

would be used as a cushion to sit on.

Father and son carried the

meat, entrails, skin, and blood to

Dongri. The family had moved there a

few days back. Diwakar got busy

cleaning the entrails while Shevak

chopped the large chunks into smaller
pieces. Parvati strained buckwheat,
which when mixed with the blood,

would be used to fill the entrails. It

was boiled like sausages and cut into
pieces, resulting in the greatest

delicacy of the region, gimti. A portion

of the blood would be used to make

another delicacy, sikri, again a mix

with buckwheat flour but cooked on a

fire. Nisha rubbed salt on the meat

pieces and Shevak put them in a

string, much like a garland, which was

hung on the space between the ceiling
and the tin roof and kept there for
drying.

***
Arvind sat at Lalaji’s shop
cursing his fate. He kept a lot of apples

in one corner of his orchard for

brewing. A bear had come in last night

and eaten most of them. He knew it

was a bear because he had found large

droppings near the broken fence.

“Can someone give me a gun?”

“You want to kill the bear?”

Naresh asked.
“Yes, I want to shoot him in the
head!”

“If you kill him, the forest

officer will put you behind the bars.
And if you miss, the bear will kill you.”

“And there is a chance the

leopard will get you,” added

Amarchand.
“You mean there’s a leopard

around?” Naresh asked.

“Yes, Balbir saw one crossing

over the road last night. It probably

came to drink water from the river.”
Dayawanti listened while
preparing a bukhari, which she kept

outside. There were very few people

left in the village, as most of them had
moved down. The fire was a means to

keep people around the shop, and that

sometimes converted to sales. A few

laborers and Kishori helped her to get

firewood in return for free tea and

biscuits during winter.

***

Pravin decided to plan a trip

home. He would carry back apples,
khomani (dried apricots), dried meat,
and potatoes for Ganga bhaiya. But

first he called his brother.

“How are you, Aaté?” Diwakar
was excited.

“I am fine. How are things at

home?”

“Everyone is fine. When are

you coming?”

“I will come soon and stay for a

few days.”

“But I may come to Rampur by

the end of this week for the rations.”
“That’s fine. You can stay with
me for a day and then leave.”

“No, Aaté, Mamaji (Balbir)

won’t wait. I will have to return by
evening.”

“Come to my shop once you are

done with the shopping.”

“Say Namaste to Aau and

Aama,” Pravin said and disconnected.

Diwakar was excited to meet

his aaté at Rampur. He went out to

find out when Balbir would be leaving.

If there were more passengers then
the cost could be shared.
 ***

It was another dull day and

Diwakar left for collecting sutar (pine
needles.) The pine needles were used

as a cushion for the cattle to sleep in

their sheds during winter. Parvati

decided to take out the potatoes. She

left with Nisha and Ria early in the

morning. Ria went for fun as her

school was closed for winter. She

would be in the village for less than a

week. Shevak had decided to send her
to Chandigarh to his sister’s place for
the next few months. There was

nothing for her to do at home during

winter. In Chandigarh, she would at
least get tutorials from his niece. Ria

was thrilled, as this was her first visit

to a city.

Parvati and Nisha started

digging the field and took out the

potatoes. Ria collected them and filled

a sack. The plant was kept in another

lot, which would later be dried and fed

to the cattle. The earlier snowfall
damaged most of the crops and the
yield was poor with most of the

potatoes small in size. This was the

last crop before winter, after which
there would be no farm work left. All

other vegetables, like radishes, peas,

cabbage, and spinach, had been taken

out and the fields stood barren with

only cow droppings scattered across

them. The alpine choughs that come

down in winter flew around in flocks

looking for food. They normally fed on

insects and turned over the soil in
search of worms. The cows grazed the
field, munching on the dead plants and

the leftover grass. A few donkeys used

their hooves to dig up soil and look for
roots. The donkeys served as a lifeline

to supply salt and rations to the

shepherds and the army in the border

areas stationed in high altitudes.

Parvati took a break and called

everyone for tea and snacks.

“This is the last day in the

field,” she said.

“And then you can rest for a
few months,” Nisha said.
 “There is no rest for me. I have

to make wool from the fleece, make oil

from the apricots, feed the cows, and
shift the cow droppings. I will get rest

only after I die.

“Don’t say such things; I am

here to help you.”

“You are a big help but it’s

difficult for me to rest after so many

years.”

Both continued with the

digging and by evening, they had four
sacks. These sacks would be kept
below the ground, covered with dry

leaves and pine needles, and taken out

when necessary. The accumulated
snow would help them to stay fresh.

Parvati remembered the last

yield, when it was nine sacks. Out of

the four from this year, she had to

send one with Ria, along with some

buckwheat, garlic, and a crate of

apples. After all, she would be there

for quite some time. Nisha and Parvati

carried two sacks each tied to their
backs and started back for Dongri.
 At home, the family decided to

have potatoes for dinner. Diwakar

took out the few large ones and kept
half for roasting and the others for

boiling. Parvati washed her hands and

sat down to grind almonds. Nisha took

out some dried mint, chili, and garlic

and chopped them. A little salt was

added and the dip was ready. The

family sat around the bukhari and

Diwakar passed out potatoes.

Everyone had their fill and the rest
was kept aside for future use.
 At night, Parvati saw Shevak

sitting on the bed lost in thought. He

normally slept early as he got up
before everyone else. “What are you

thinking?”
“We only have four sacks when

we need at least seven to eight. We

will need to buy two sacks.”

“Maybe three. One sack needs

to be sent with Ria. I am also worried.”

“I don’t know how to manage

when the family grows.”
Parvati wondered if she should
discuss Chotu’s proposal with him.

She had promised not to discuss it

with anyone. But Shevak was not
anyone; he was her husband, god, and

everything.
“Chotu told me something

before he left.”
“What was it?”

“He said that if Diwa agreed,

both the brothers would go for

common marriage.”
Shevak was surprised. This
was a new development and he had
never thought of this as a possibility.

For a moment he was confused and

then he saw the logic and benefit.
Even though he would have received

some money from the bride’s side if

Diwa married, it would not be

sufficient to cover the marriage

expense and the cost of expansion.

Again, the problem of division of the

land and orchard would be there. He

realized that Chotu was not as dumb

as he assumed and he also thought for
the family. He remembered that only
last week he had sent money and

promised to send it regularly. If not

proud, he felt pleased about his son.
He looked at Parvati, who was waiting

for his response.

“And what did Diwa say?”

“I have no idea. Chotu said he

would speak with him and let us

know.”
“Let’s wait for his opinion.”

Parvati watched Shevak stretch

out and close his eyes. It seemed he
was at peace with the proposition. He
was always quick to respond and

would have expressed his opposition

instantly if there was any. She thought
maybe this would really benefit the

family. She prayed to Devta and slept.

***

Ria managed one last meeting

with Jeet before she left for

Chandigarh. Jeet was still in the

village, as his family kept the cattle in

a small shed nearby. Ria went with

Lila, who had called Jeet under an
excuse of asking him if he could lend
her his schoolbooks. Jeet came out

and the three went to the Temple. Ria

was prepared to ask all her questions.
Jeet smiled at first but when he saw

that she was serious, he gave his

answers more thought.

“But I need to finish school first

and find a job. How can we live in a

city without money? And who will give

me a job if I am illiterate?”

Ria was taken aback. She had

never anticipated any such problem.
And this was a setback to her plans of
marrying early. But she was happy

that he was positive and that he, too,

shared her dreams of living in the city.
Maybe the Devta would be kind and

help them.
“I will leave for Chandigarh in a

few days and will be back in the

spring,” Ria said as she got up to leave.

“Have a good time and enjoy

your stay,” Jeet said. He smiled but Ria

could see he was sad.

“I will think about you,” Ria
said and then left with Lila.
 It was a few days after Ria left

when the first snowfall came. The

morning sky was covered with clouds
and a fog stretched across the entire

valley, covering the peaks halfway

down. By afternoon, the snowfall

started and soon covered the valley

with a thin layer of white. The barren

fields, the riverbanks, the mountain

slopes, meadows, roads all lost their

texture as the snow covered them,

painting everything white. The valley
looked like a large gray canvas. By late
afternoon, over a foot of snow had

accumulated and the road seemed to

merge with the fields and the fields
with the bank. The snow fell on the

mountains and filled up the nooks,

caves, crevices, and cracks on granite,

exposing the texture that remained

hidden in the sunlight. The empty

houses in the village stood like

scattered mushrooms with snow

piling on their tin roofs and extending

outside. The crows, the only birds to
stay during winter, hid below the
branches of leafless trees and shook

off the occasional snow that fell on

them. The dogs took shelter in houses
and the few cows still outside stood

below trees with white patches across

their backs and heads waiting for

their owners to put them back inside.

By evening, two feet of snow

had fallen. Diwakar used a shovel to

scoop out snow from near the door.

Nisha stood on the balcony and

looked around. The snow fell steadily,
forming a veil, and through that, the
mountains seemed distant. A few of

the peaks hid below mist and were

partly visible. The naked trees in the
orchard stood with their trunks

submerged in snow and the valley lost

its contours. The courtyard looked

clean and fresh with all the cow

droppings and dry leaves hiding

below layers of white. The snow

accumulated on the tin roof while

some splattered and melted on the

walls and windows. Parvati took a
bundle of soft apple branches and
gave it to the cows for munching.

Every year the orchard was pruned

and Shevak applied paste to the cuts.
While it stopped the growth of the

trimmed branches, it ensured growth

for the healthy branches, which held

better promise of bearing fruit. It also

provided cuttings to feed the cattle.

***
It was late evening when the

cables snapped, causing a power

outage. The snowfall continued and
the temperature reached below zero.
The fire was already burning and the

family huddled next to it. Parvati

made pancakes while Diwakar boiled
potatoes for dinner. Shevak and

Diwakar shared one room with the

bukhari and Parvati slept with Nisha

in the other.
The whole night it snowed and

in the morning, Shevak found a build-

up of four feet of snow covering the

entrance. He called Diwakar and both

shoveled to make a road to the
pathway. Diwakar went back to milk
the cows and Shevak left for the

village. On the way, he met a few

villagers and one of them told him the
snowfall was as far as Karcham and

the roads were all blocked. The

villagers did not complain about the

snowfall, as the moisture was

necessary for the orchards and the

farm. It even provided the necessary

water to keep the peaks green. He

followed the narrow trench like path

made by others who had gone out
earlier and in slow steps reached the
village. His colleague Mahajan

informed him that it was not only

power cables that snapped in a few
places but also a few poles, which fell.

Even Sangla and neighboring places

suffered from the power outage.

Shevak knew it would be days before

the power could be restored.

***
Pravin got into a shared Jeep

early in the morning. It would take

him to Sangla. He heard about the
snowfall but was not aware it was
heavy. The army frequented this route

and the PWD normally cleared the

road with bulldozers after a snowfall.
The Jeep stopped at Tapri for a tea

break. After crossing Karcham, it

slowed down as the road had just

been cleared and only a narrow

stretch in the middle was passable. It

was getting cold and Pravin put on a

jacket. Outside, the landscape changed

with layers of snow covering the

meadows and pastures on the slopes
and only the huge granite peaks
managed to keep their surface

exposed as the snow skidded away

from their smooth face. The sky was
clear, making it difficult to gaze on the

patches that reflected sunlight. It was

afternoon when the Jeep reached

Sangla. The snowfall was heavy and

Pravin found the road to his village

was still blocked. He picked up his bag

and decided to walk the last stretch.

***
“You should have joined the
army!” Nisha exclaimed as Diwakar
made a straight jump from the roof

and landed on the three-foot layer of

snow on the courtyard.
He smiled, did two

somersaults, and sat in the snow half

submerged.

“Better be careful. You will

catch a cold and fever.”

Diwakar again smiled and

pushed against the snow, making a

small snowball and then rolling a huge

ball out of it. He balanced the ball on
his head and stretched out his hands.
Nisha took a handful of snow and

threw it at him. The sun was out after

three days and everyone was outside
trying to soak in as much warmth as

possible. The peaks stood against an

azure sky in all their majesty. A few

puffs of white clouds floated across

the western sky. The pines stood

awaiting the wind to help them shed

the snow that draped over them.

Nisha went inside to help

Parvati, who was grinding apricot
seeds in a stone mortar to extract oil.
The oil was good for health, for

massage and could be used in cooking

too, but the villagers sold all of it, as
the price it fetched was quite high.

Nisha came back and saw

Diwakar putting finishing touches to a

ten-headed snow Ravana. He was

putting small twigs on top of each

head. He came back, made a few

snowballs handed them to Nisha.

“Now, let’s knock him down!”

Both threw the snowballs as
long as the figure stood and finally
managed to level it. Nisha clapped and

laughed aloud. She loved being a child

sometimes.
***

Shevak sat on a pole while

Mahajan and a few villagers held the

cable below. He was an expert at

climbing poles and could work high on

top of one without the help of ladders

or anything. Even at his age, he was

agile. The villagers normally came out

to help them during winter, as it
would take days for people to come
from Sangla. Replacing and erecting a

pole took several days or more if the

terrain was difficult. The work
continued until five in the evening, as

beyond that time the government

would not pay for any accidents.

Shevak came down and everyone

went to a nearby house where they

drank hot water and tea.

***

Pravin started across the

snow-covered road by walking
through a narrow trough. There was
less snow in Sangla and it was like

walking on a crisp carpet. But ahead

he had to slog and sometimes push
through the snow to make any

headway. The poplars stood on both

sides spreading their naked arms

toward the sky as if praying for spring.

There was no sign of green except for

the pines, though most of the trees

remained covered with snow. The

river ran far below like a silver snake

undulating across the snow-covered
plain. The villages looked like
something out of fairytale books with

only the tall flags fluttering in the

wind. Smoke rose through chimneys
from the snow-covered rooftops. A

few stray cows stood gazing aimlessly

at the snow, unable to find anything to

feed on. A few desperate birds picked

on the dried grass that was still on

trees.
Pravin walked along and finally

reached the stream before the final

bend. It flowed in a narrow trickle now
and the music it played among the
rocks was lost. A thin layer of ice

adorned the rocks wherever the

stream kissed it and icicles hung on
the underside glowing in the reflected

light. He crossed the bend and the

valley opened up before him. The sun

was down and the sunlight fell on the

eastern peaks reflecting a golden

shine. The peaks opposite also glowed

with shared light from the white

valley that stretched for miles. Pravin

watched the snowscape for a while
and turned toward the steps that led
toward the Dongri.
 Chapter 16

It was morning but clouds hung overhead

covering the sun and snow drizzled

across the valley. Diwakar cleared a

portion of the courtyard and started sizing

up the branches with an axe so that they

fit into the bukhari. He was happy that his
aaté was there. He had missed the trip to

Rampur as Balbir said there was no need

for him to go and also there were no seats
available. Balbir himself purchased the

ration and brought it for them. But aaté

was a big help at this time. It was always

good to have more hands during winter.

The grass bundles left on trees and

firewood had to be brought to the Dongri.
Diwakar stacked up a pile of firewood

and set his axe aside. He was feeling

warm and decided to clear off the roof;

otherwise, water would leak inside and

spoil the goods stored below it.

***

Pravin woke up to the sound of

footsteps overhead. It took him a
while to realize where he was and
then to make out the source of the

noise. The previous night he had been

tired and retired early. He shivered for
quite some time and Nisha put two

blankets over him. She held him close

until he felt comfortable. Pravin came

to the other room and saw Parvati

making wool from the fleece and

Nisha grinding the apricot seeds for

oil. Nisha got up and gave him

pancakes and some vegetables.

“Aama, cook some meat today.
And also give me a few pieces when I
go.”

“I need a sack of rice. Take

Diwa with you and get one from the
house,” Parvati said.

The dongri did not have much

space so part of the ration was kept in

the other house in the village.

“I will go and feed the cows,”

Nisha said and left.

“How long do you intend to

stay?”
“I will leave as soon as the
roads are open.”
 “Did you talk with Diwa about

Nisha?”
“Yes, he is okay with the
proposal. He understands what is

good for the family.”

Parvati felt relieved that Diwa

was in favor of the proposal. She

wondered how Nisha would take it

but that did not matter. Women had

very little say and had to accept if the

brothers agreed.
“I will leave for the village with
Diwa,” Pravin said and got up to leave.
 ***

In the village, Dayawanti

looked at the shop in despair. Huge
chunks of snow that fell from the roof

blocked half of the shop. She took a

shovel and started clearing a part of it.

Kishori came a short while after and

took the shovel from her. He lit a bidi

and first cleared the front, making a

space for placing the bukhari.

Kishori was a man of few

words, plus no one understood him
properly as his words were garbled
most of the time. He wore a ragged

jacket, woolen trousers, and a pair of

over-used military boots. He always
carried his axe. He rarely bathed or

cleaned himself and his unkempt hair

hung below his topi covering the

upper part of his face. Kishori was

much in demand during winter as he

braved the snow to supply wood from

the upper reaches. The government

sold firewood at four hundred rupees

a quintal while he charged only for
labor. Even during summer the
villagers gave him the contract for

wood required for building or

renovating houses. The villagers
called him jungle mafia because the

forest guards hounded him, hoping to

catch him red handed some day.

***
The brothers walked up to the

village but first Pravin wanted to meet

Balbir. They saw the Jeep half

submerged in snow in front of his

house. They knocked and Balbir came
out. He smiled at Pravin.
 “Any word yet, Mamaji, when

the roads will open?”

“The PWD bulldozers have
reached Batseri and they should be

here in two or three days.”

“That’s good news. I will need a

drop at Sangla.”
“No problem. As it is, I plan to

keep the car near Dongri once I am

able to start it. The snowfall was much

lighter there.”
“But you will have to wait a day
or two as I am on Devta’s duty.”
 The Devta selected his carriers

every year and now it was Balbir’s

turn. He had to be available whenever
there was a call. But there was little

chance the Devta would come outside,

except for an emergency. The red flag

was down and Devta rested during

winter, locked in his private space

along with all his jewels and cash. The

snowfall normally came a few days

after the lowering of the red flag.

The brothers went back to the
village and reached their home. Like
other houses, their house had a thick

deposit of snow on all sides. They

made their way through the snow and
opened the door. Pravin opened the

windows to let fresh air in and

checked the taps. Even though

everyone kept one tap open to avoid

bursting the pipes, a few old and

rusted pipes always gave way, causing

trouble for everyone. The water

department had only one man in the

village; he used rubber tubes to seal
such leaks when they occurred.
Sometimes such a disaster resulted in

the total cutoff of water for many days

and villagers had to get water from
the hand pumps.

“I will clean the roof,” Diwakar

said.

“Be careful to avoid the

entrance and push the snow to the

back side.”
“You stay inside while I finish

this part.”
Diwakar came down after a
while and found that his aaté has
already cleared the entrance. He sat

on a plastic chair firming it on the

snow. Diwakar pulled up another chair
and sat next to him.

“I wish I could have gone to

Rampur for the ration.”

“Bad luck, but there is always a

next time.”

“Now I can go only after the

winter is over and the snow melts.”

Pravin also wished his baya

could come to Rampur and spend a
few days with him. He could show him
around and, with Raju on the team, the

three would have a nice time. But he

had something else on his mind. “Did
you think over what I told you last

time? About Nisha?”

“Yes.”

“You have not changed your

mind?”

“No, I think it will be good for

the family and we will stay together.”

Pravin once again felt relieved.

He knew that his baya would not
change his resolve but still he wanted
to be certain.

“One more thing. Nisha will be

with you most of the time except
when I am here. It may be a few days

or even a month. I hope you are okay

with that.”

Diwakar simply nodded. He

thought it was fair that his aaté got his

share of Nisha whenever he came,

which would only be once in two or

three months. He was not bothered

even if he stayed for a month. His
presence gave him immense
happiness and he always wanted to be

near him. He also knew that he could

never have anyone entirely for himself
and even if he wanted to marry

someone later, it would depend solely

on Nisha and her approval.

On the road, they met Naresh

rushing in with a few men. His son,

who was the same age as Diwakar and

his friend also, had been in an

accident. He was sitting on the

balcony of the first floor when,
apparently, a ghost pushed him and he
fell down, injuring himself. It had to be

a ghost because there was no one else

around. The injury was not severe but
he was speaking incoherently and

very scared. They all reached the

temple and the Gur advised a puja to

be performed immediately.
Everyone sat down and the Gur

performed the puja, informing the

Devta of the victim’s name and

condition. After a few rituals, the Gur

passed him some prasad and advised
him to give it to the boy. He also
suggested Naresh bring the boy and

cook halwa after he was okay.

Diwakar went back with
Naresh to check on his friend. After

having the prasad, the boy calmed

down. Everyone praised the Devta and

Naresh promised to perform puja. He

decided to take him to the hospital at

Sangla to treat his physical injuries.

Pravin walked back home. The

sky was overcast and a mild wind was

blowing. He reached home and saw
Parvati cooking while Nisha helped
her. He waved at her and went to the

other room.
“Aama, your son is calling me. I
will see what he needs and come

back,” said Nisha.

Parvati nodded and Nisha

joined Pravin.
Pravin closed the door and

gestured to her to sit down. He sat

next to her on the bed.

“I have something to tell you.”

Nisha remained silent and
looked at him. She saw he was serious
and hesitant.

“You know our farmland is

small and if divided will not be enough
for the two of us to sustain.” He

paused.
Nisha nodded.

“I have decided to work while

baya will take care of the farm and

orchard. As of now he does not want

to join the army.”

“But that was always his

dream.”
“I don’t know about tomorrow
but now he wants to stay in the

village.”
“And what happens to the land
when he marries?”

“He will not marry anyone else.

He will be your second husband. I

have spoken with him and he has

agreed to share you with me. This way

the land will remain intact and the

family will stay together.”

“What?” She sat quietly as the

full depth of Pravin’s statement sank
in and hit her consciousness. She was
stunned and outraged.

“But… but I look at him as a

brother,” she managed to say.
“That was before. From now,

you can treat him otherwise. Even my

fourth uncle who got married to my

aunt later is much younger than she is.

It will not be a problem. And this is

best for the family.”

“How can I love both of you?

How can I love equally? How can I be

in bed with him?”
“It’s only the two of us, not four
or five. If both of us can sacrifice for

the family, then it should not be

difficult for you.” Pravin raised his
tone a bit.

Her universe crumbled and

sank before her. All the while she

thought that he loved her immensely

and wanted to possess her and keep

her for his own. It would have been

different if it were a shared marriage

from the beginning. Even her cousin

was married to three brothers. She
never thought, even in her dreams,
that this was a possibility. She was not

prepared mentally. She was terribly

shaken and disturbed.
She knew she could not contest

the decision; she had to accept it. If

she didn’t, she would be marked as an

outcast and thrown out of the house.

There would be no place she could go.

She also knew that her world would

not be the same again. She knew the

meaning of love would be lost forever.

True, she enjoyed his brother’s
infatuations and also floated with his
dream sometimes, but in her mind,

the image of love was always around

one person. Was it that he did not find
her love strong enough, not

passionate enough, that he could

share her so easily?

She looked at him in pain. How

could the person she trusted so much

betray her love? Had he ever loved

her? She felt very much like a

commodity that had no say in the

trade, or who would acquire it. How
could he decide like that?
 She looked away. She went to

the window and looked outside. Tears

rolled down her cheeks. Outside the
sky was dark and the wind gathered

speed and grew into a storm. A

blizzard came from the south and hit

the eastern peaks, sweeping the snow

off the pine trees and blowing them

down on the valley. The trees swayed

violently and the wind started

brushing the rocks and boulders in

broad furious strokes; the deposits
forming on them rode the storm to
scatter everywhere. The blinding

blizzard moved from one peak to the

other like a caged leopard, knocking
down poles, flags, tiles, and all in its

path.
Nisha stood still as a rush of

snow came along with a gust of wind

and plastered the window. Another

came soon to clean it and then a burst

of wind approached, twisting and

twirling with snow, and hit the house,

shaking the foundation. The front
yard, the logs, the grass, everything
disappeared below a covering of

white. Huge slabs fell from the

rooftops, blocking the roads, lanes,
and steps. Pravin left the room while

Nisha sobbed silently near the

window. Her sobs floated across the

ranges and finally condensed into a

single teardrop, which fell on the river

and flowed toward some unknown

destination.

***
Shevak came in late. He had
been struck by the storm and had
snow all over him. He changed and sat

next to the fire with the others.

Parvati gave him a glass of hot water.
She lit a candle and placed the meat on

the bukhari to warm it up. Diwakar

told everyone about Naresh’s son and

Parvati listened intently.

“They need to call the Lama to

perform puja. If there is an evil spirit,

he needs to be driven out.”

“It was all his fault and his son

is paying for it,” Shevak said.
Everyone was aware that he neglected
his wife and spent most of his time

with his brother’s widow.

The meat was delicious and all
ate silently. Outside the storm

lessened. Nisha fiddled with her food

for some time and then ate a little. No

one in the room was aware of the

storm that raged within her mind,

devastating her.
At night, Pravin found Nisha

sleeping on her side with her back

toward him and her head buried in the
pillow. He placed an arm around her
but she remained silent. He realized

that she was upset and that it would

take time to make peace within her
mind. He hoped she would realize

what was good for the family. He left

her alone.

***
The storm ceased at night and

took away the clouds with it. The

valley woke to an azure sky with

bright sunlight dazzling across the

snow. The villagers pushed their way
through the snow. A few stray dogs
followed them. Everyone was busy

clearing their compounds and roofs. A

few trees had fallen, blocking a major
part of the road and forcing everyone

to skirt it. Dayawanti abused the PWD

officials, as they always came late to

this part of the valley. Balbir smiled at

her as he sipped his tea.

“Yours words won’t make them

come earlier. They will clean the

approach first and then reach here.”

“But, Bhaiya, I am out of stock. I
have almost nothing to sell except
these snacks.”

True she had only a few

cabbages, which had shrunk in size
and turned black, and a few potatoes

with sprouts showing on them.

“Ask Lalaji to get some when

he returns,” Balbir said and waited for

her reply with a smile. Lalaji had left a

few days back to see his second wife

in Bilaspur and he knew Dayawanti

was upset.
“You think that man would
carry goods? You think he will find
time after having a good time with

that witch? He will enjoy the warm

comfort of his home and his preferred
lady,” she fumed.

“Then you should close the

shop and rest for a few days.”

“I cannot rest. If he finds out he

will abuse me like an animal.”

Shevak came in a while later

with Mahajan. He had been out since

morning to assess the damage.

“Five poles are down between
Sangla and our village,” he announced.
 “Does that mean we will be

without power for another week?”

Balbir asked.
“Maybe less if I can gather

more people from the village.”

Balbir nodded, but he also

knew that power was not that

important, except for lights and TV

and there were not many TV sets in

the village. He was more worried

about the road blockage, as that

meant his Jeep taxi service would
remain stagnant.
 “We also need to check the

upper reaches.” Shevak looked at

Mahajan.
Chitkul was ten kilometers

away but another two thousand feet

up. It was a small village of about

seven hundred people. Being the last

village on the road, it suffered the

most. Snow blocked the road to

Chitkul for most of the winter and

supplies remained out of their reach.

The people did not migrate such long
distances and preferred to remain in
their houses braving the severe cold.

Shevak knew it would be weeks before

they could restore power but that was
quite common in this region. He

decided to make a trip in the next few

days once he was able to fix the poles

and restore power in the village.

All of them turned around as

they saw Arvind running down the

road at great speed. A little ways

behind him, Amarchand came running

with his big rifle in hand. Everyone
stood up, as they thought he was
chasing Arvind, but he waved at them

and pointed to the river.

“There is a buck out there.”
In winter, most of the springs

and water sources froze and

sometimes the deer came down to the

river. They mostly came at night but

sometimes a few desperate ones

came during the day. The villagers

thought these were a gift from the

Devta and killed them if they could.

The kill was then offered to the Devta
after a puja and then everyone had the
meat.

A few men came running down

from the village as they heard the
gunshots and joined them in the

chase. The dogs also joined in and all

ran down to the river.

The deer, quite young, was first

startled by the gunshots but soon

realized the imminent danger and ran

along the riverbank. For the villagers,

running in the snow was not easy and

the rifle was quite old to offer proper
aim. The deer ran through the gorge
and escaped along the river to the

valley below.
Shevak and Balbir watched
from the road above. Soon the party

came back disheartened.

“You and your gun are both

good for the museum,” Balbir said.

“My father killed a leopard with

this gun. Don’t make fun of it.”

Everyone settled down at

Lalaji’s shop and recalled the various

old tales of hunting.
***
 Parvati glanced at Nisha. She

was making wool while Nisha soaked

some dried peas and spinach in hot
water. Since morning, she had worked

silently without uttering a single word

or looking up. Parvati guessed

something was wrong. Then she

realized or rather her wisdom told her

that Chotu must have spoken with her.

She remembered she couldn’t find her

during the storm last evening. She

thought for a while.
“Are you upset about
something?” she asked.

Nisha looked at Parvati, and

Parvati saw her gloomy face and
moist eyes.

“Aama, do you think this is

right? You all could have married him

easily to a beautiful bride. This was

beyond my dreams and I am in great

pain.” She started sobbing again.

“I would have done so if he

wanted, but both brothers are in

agreement. I can understand it is a
surprise for you but I also believe you
can adjust. There are many women

here with more than one husband.”

“But, Aama, I love only your
elder son and for Diwakar I have

affection. I know he is good and

adorable but how can I love both of

them equally?”
“If you ask me, I cannot answer

that. I am illiterate. I don’t know the

meaning of love; neither do the other

women in this village. For us, it is a life

of labor until we die. In this life, we get
food, shelter, and clothes. Maybe it is
different elsewhere, but here this is

the way it is. I am sure that with time,

you will also come to terms with
everything.”

“I don’t know if I can. I never

wanted this life.”

Parvati saw that she was a bit

calmer, and she knew she needed to

be at her side.
“We never get what we want in

life. Look at me. Do you think I wanted

this life? Maybe you should come with
me to Lamaji and listen to hymns.”
 Nisha remained silent and

continued with her work.

At night, Parvati thought about
it and decided to ask Lamaji about a

good date in the coming month. It was

the month of Poush, as per their

calendar, and an inauspicious month.

So the announcement would only

happen next month. The first

marriage was important while the

second one was a mere revelation to

relatives and friends.
She made a mental list of
relatives. As it was, she had to call all

the women shortly for a meal. Every

woman treated all other women
among the relatives, far and near both,

once a year. It was generally meat and

poltu. Parvati decided to use the

occasion to make a casual

announcement.

Nisha slept with her back to

Pravin, who wondered what was so

wrong about his proposal. This was a

common thing and no one
complained. Instead of one, she would
now have two husbands. And both

would take care of her and the family.

Also, the family would remain united.
Nisha sobbed silently on her

pillow. She wanted to run away, far

beyond the hills and the meadows.

Run away to her Sheru, to her aaya.

The mountains glimpsed at the

boulders on the slopes. The river,

which was flowing in a torrent, hit the

boulders, and divided into two,

forming an island never to be reached
by anyone.
 Chapter 17

It was the day of Tang-Tang. Parvati

searched among her cooking utensils and

found a silver plate broken near the edge.

She remembered it had been a gift from

Shevak’s aunt, but the ritual involved was

important. During Tang-Tang, one
member from each family went out with a

stick banging against a broken utensil,

which he or she threw away at the far end
of the village. If there was nothing broken

at home, then the villagers carried tin or

anything metal that could make a noise.

This was a symbolic ritual to drive away

the evil spirit from each home.

Parvati joined her neighbors

and all of them marched down the

road. Soon more villagers joined and

the noisy procession marched ahead.

Naresh’s wife came out with a large

brass vessel. The family was scared

after the recent mishap that injured

their son. The doctors at Sangla

diagnosed a spinal injury and advised
a consultation with a specialist in
Chandigarh.

The procession reached the

end of the village and everyone threw
the broken utensils into the gorge

next to the river.

***

Pravin was out early, as he

wanted to spend the day with his

friends. Diwakar decided to chop

more logs for the bukhari as the

temperature went down to minus

twelve. Apart from overnight,
everyone now needed fire, even
during the daytime. He spat on his

hands and picked up the axe.

Nisha watched him from the
kitchen window. And once again, the

definition of love haunted her. She

thought maybe it was a totally useless

effort to imagine that she belonged to

one person and that one person

belonged to her. Maybe she had been

wrong from the very beginning and

had been deceiving herself all along.

She knew even in her wildest dreams
she would never be able to share him
with anyone.

She listened to the song that

played on Diwakar’s mobile outside
and remembered all the moments and

the dreams he had shared with her.

She liked his innocence and simplicity.

But maybe that would be lost forever.

She felt sad that even he would soon

realize that love and dreams are both

fragile. A thought crossed her mind.

She could plead with him to back out,

but she realized instantly it would
mean betrayal and she could not
afford to take such a risk. Also, she

was not sure if he would agree. She

was certain he was very happy now
that his dream was taking shape.

Diwakar saw her and asked for

a glass of water. He was sweating even

in the cold and his hands were red

from the effort. Nisha came out and

gave him the glass. “You don’t look

well.”

“No, I am all right.” She took

the glass and left silently.
Diwakar thought that
something must be wrong between

her and aaté. He said nothing and

continued with his work.
The bulldozer came through

pushing the snow to both sides of the

road. Children jumped on its back

while the dogs barked at the huge bulk

and noise. A thin layer of snow, frozen

and hard, still remained, but everyone

knew it would soon melt away.

“Now I can resume my trips,”

Balbir said, as he saw the plow
approaching Lalaji’s shop.
 “Yes, but you need to get my

supplies first,” Dayawanti said.

“I don’t know if I can make a
trip to Rampur; there’s nothing to be

found at Sangla. You will have to wait

for a few days.”

“Do you have Devta’s duty

during the mela (fair)?”

“Yes, this year my trip will be

affected by my duty, but maybe Devta

will be kind to us.”

Dayawanti knew that Balbir
and his wife performed puja all
through the year for blessings, but

they did not yet have any children.

“Look at you and look at Lalaji.
Are you going to marry another

woman like him if your wife fails to

give you a child? It is all my fate.”

“Lamaji says it’s all for our sins

in past lives. Maybe he is correct,”

Balbir said with a stoic smile crossing

his lips.

***
Ria enjoyed every moment of
her stay in the city. Her cousin, who
was a little older than she was, took

her through the various facts and

benefits of city life. She listened in
awe and firmed her resolve to run

away as soon as the opportunity

came. Her aunt gave her a new pair of

jeans and shirt and she wore them

every day. She learned how to pluck

her eyebrows, the right way to apply

lipstick, and much more. She devoted

most of her time to watching popular

movies on TV. In the village, they only
had free channels provided by the
state services. She listened to all the

romantic exchanges, redesigning and

reshaping her own upcoming
dialogues. She loved almost

everything about the city—the bright

lights, the girls with short hair, their

dresses, the food, the shops, the mall,

the glitter, the cars, everything. Even

the stray dogs looked different, from a

class apart. The only thing she hated,

that made her feel like crying, was the

unsolicited tutorials she received
every evening. She failed to realize the
need for learning and books. After all,

she was not going to be a teacher or

work somewhere. She would cook,
keep the house clean, shop, and travel

all the time. She did not miss the

village or her family at home but

spoke to aau and aama whenever her

aunt called them. She told them she

was fine and would return when

school opened after winter was over.

***
Parvati took out the leh
berries. They grew plentifully and she
had brought enough branches before

winter. She knew the cold was severe

and Shevak needed to be given the
juice to keep up with his work.

“Aama,” said Diwa, “you know

these berries are very good for health

and rich in vitamins. My teacher said

that even the army drinks this juice, as

it remains unfrozen even at

temperatures below minus forty!”

Parvati nodded. She only knew

from her grandma that the juice from
the leh berries provided strength and
vigor and helped with disease

resistance.
“Diwa, make the fire in the
courtyard.”

Diwakar placed logs in a tin can

in the opening where he had sized the

logs. He lit the fire and Parvati put on

a vessel with water. Then she and

Nisha started plucking the berries and

dropping them in a wooden vessel. It

was a painful exercise as the branches

had sharp thorns all over them and
soon their hands burned in pain.
Nisha was new to this and she

followed Parvati but soon her hands

turned red.
“Give them to me.” Diwakar

came and took the branch from her.

“Just keep the fire on,” he said and

smiled at her.
With all the berries in the

vessel, Parvati took a wooden

pounder and crushed them, turning

them over and over. She then dropped

them in the boiling water on the fire
while Nisha stirred it with a branch.
Parvati spread a clean cloth on top of

another vessel and Diwakar poured in

the liquid. Nisha got a few bottles and
filled them up.

Diwakar watched her and went

inside. He came out with an almost

empty tube of cream but managed to

press out a little bit with great effort.

He gave it to Nisha to rub on her

burning hands. He took a sip from one

of the bottles.
“Aama, add some sugar before
you give it to Aau.”
 “I don’t want to spoil the

benefits,” Parvati said and carried the

bottles inside.
***

Shevak walked down toward

Chitkul with Mahajan. Very few people

had gone up this stretch of road and

the trench that formed was narrow.

They reached Mastarang and were

greeted at the army outpost. Jeevan

Ram stood at the gate with an AK-47

slung over his shoulder. He smiled at
Shevak. Jeevan Ram was from Johuri
and the only person who was familiar

with the terrain. He was middle aged

and had spent most of his life with the
border force. He had two daughters at

home and an apple orchard. Jeevan

Ram was considering voluntary

retirement, as he needed to be at
home to arrange his daughter’s

marriage.
“Did you get a good price for

your apples?” he asked Shevak.

“I went to Shimla but the price
was average, much lower than last
year.”

“Yes, the rains spoiled

everything.”
“When are you going back?”

“Soon. My holidays are overdue

but the new men want me to stay

here. Why not have some tea?”

“We will on our way back,”

Shevak said and kept walking.

The army was friendly with the

locals and helped them in many

instances. They often gave them a lift
to the city or carried the seriously ill
people to the hospital in their

vehicles. They also bartered their

supplies, like rum for apples.
Shevak reached the stream and

found it completely frozen. The

stream carried ice-cold water from

the glaciers and went across the road

on its way to the river below. In

summer, the water was sometimes

knee high and the current made it

difficult to cut through. But now it was

frozen and the pebbles and rocks that
traveled down from the high peaks
rested inside peacefully. The pine

forest stood in solemn silence on a

thick white carpet with only the
occasional sound of snow dripping off

the trees and splattering below.

They could not go far because

of the huge deposits of snow that

covered the road and merged it with

the valley below. Shevak decided to

come back again after the bulldozer

had cleared way. They both returned

to the army outpost and, after having
tea with Jeevan Ram, returned to the
village.

There were no vegetables in

the house so Parvati decided to use
apples instead. She took six apples

from a crate kept for the family and

cut them in cubes. Nisha watched

intently as this was a new dish for her.

Parvati blanched the cubes on the

bukhari and removed them. She then

heated some oil in another pan and

added cumin, chopped garlic, onions,

and a few pieces of dried tomato. After
frying them a bit she added the apples
cubes and sprinkled in a pinch of

turmeric and red chili flakes. She

cooked and stirred it a few more
minutes and the dish was done. She

looked at Nisha and smiled. “You can

even add peanuts or almond bits. This

goes very well with pancakes.”

“I have so many things to learn

from you,” Nisha said.

Pravin came in and sat next to

the fire. He looked at Nisha and then

turned toward Parvati. Nisha was
making the pancakes. “Aama, the
roads are clear and I will leave

tomorrow. I will go to Sangla with

Balbir and catch a bus from there.”
“The mela is just a few days

away. Why not stay for the mela?”

“I cannot, I have to save my job.

I have left the shop in the hands of a

boy. I have nothing to do with the

mela. And if it snows again I will have

to walk.”

“This boy stays with you?”

“Yes. I will try and bring him for
a visit one day. He is a nice boy.”
 “I hope he is not a Koli. Did you

check on his parents?”

“Yes, Aama. His house is near
Batseri. He lost his father and left his

house a few years back.”

“But when will you be back

again? I have planned the

announcement next month, though I

need to discuss it with your Aau.”

Nisha glanced at Parvati for a

moment and then continued doing her

work. “You don’t need me for that and
I cannot come frequently.”
 “But there is some expense.”

“I know. I will send more

money this time, and that should take
care of the expense.” Pravin went

outside and saw the heaps of logs kept

in one corner. He knew that it would

help if he stayed, as the family needed

more logs. But he knew that his baya

was capable and together with his

friends, he would manage.

At night he saw Nisha standing

near the window. On the floor he saw
a crate of apples and another box
neatly packed. He assumed that the

box contained potatoes, buckwheat

flour, and other things that aama must
have given her to pack for him. He

went and stretched out on the bed.

Nisha came and sat beside him. Pravin

saw she was calm and composed.

“You will leave tomorrow.”

Pravin simply watched her and

said nothing.

“My life will never be the same

as it was earlier. But I know I will
continue to love you even though you
decided on such a fate for me.”

“I also love you, Nisha, and will

continue to do so. Only now you will
get his attention also. It’s not as bad as

you think. And everyone will respect

you more.”

“I never wanted this but let’s

not discuss that. It’s my destiny. I can

only say my love will not be the same

for him.”

“I don’t think he will notice or

ever complain.”
“But do you think he deserves
it? Don’t you think he also deserves to

be loved and cared for by someone

who devotes herself solely to him? I
don’t know who is the bigger loser in

all this.”
“I don’t fully understand you.

But all I can say is this is good for our

family.”

Pravin pulled her close and

kissed her. She did not protest but

remained unresponsive. They made

love but somehow Pravin realized it
was not the same. He missed the
warmth and the rhythm. He slept,

spent and exhausted but not content.

Nisha watched him and
realized for the first time that she had

some control in his happiness. She

became conscious of the fact that her

action and participation played a vital

role in giving him the required sense

of satisfaction, providing him the

sense of achievement. She couldn’t

fake passion, rather didn’t know how

to fake it, but came to the conclusion
that it must be the state of her mind
that played against her. And she

herself was not responsible for that. It

also dawned on her that the body
spoke the language of the mind and

the soul. She lay there wondering

about the future and then she slept.

***
It was a bright morning and

Parvati thanked Devta for keeping the

clouds away. She expected a hundred

women from her family whom she

invited for lunch. This was an old
custom and followed by almost every
family. There was no name to it.

Parvati and Nisha took out two sacks

of wheat flour while Shevak busily cut
the dried meat into pieces. Diwakar

shoveled the snow from the courtyard

and made space for the guests to sit.

Jayshree, Parvati’s sister-in-

law, was the first to arrive. She was

married to the second and fourth

brother of her husband who had two

portions of land between them. She

was jovial and friendly and came early
to help them with the cooking. “So
when do we start?”

“You have just come, so go

inside and rest a while. I will join you
in a moment.”

Parvati asked Nisha to strain

the wheat and went inside to make

some tea. She told Jayshree about

Diwa’s marriage and also mentioned

that Nisha was a bit upset.

“Everything will be okay with time,”

she said.
Nisha came in a while later and
smiled at Jayshree. “Aama, we need oil
and salt to knead the wheat.”

“I will carry them out.

Meanwhile you chop the garlic and
onions for the meat. If we don’t start

boiling the meat now it will be

evening before it gets soft.”

Parvati went out with the tea

for Shevak and Diwa.

“Bring the garlic and get me a

knife,” Jayshree told Nisha.

Nisha always loved Jayshree’s

company; she was simple yet full of
wisdom. She often came out with
simple answers to important issues.

Jayshree came from a far off place.

“So, you will have two
husbands soon.” She smiled at Nisha.

Nisha looked at her but she

failed to see any signs of sadness.

Almost all of the time Jayshree was

merry and smiling.

“Tell me something. How do

you love both equally?”

Jayshree smiled at Nisha as if

she was asking an innocent question.
“The balance of love is in our
mind. How will they read what is

inside me? Will one come to know the

difference? It’s not as difficult as you
think.”

“You mean you didn’t feel any

difference when you came to know

that you would have two husbands?”

“Why should I? Even my

mother had two husbands and both

my father and uncle adored me and

my brothers and sisters. We were one

big happy family.”
“But I am worried. I know it’s
good for the family but I cannot be at

peace in my mind.”
“Look at me; I am happy with
my two husbands and four children.

And I can tell you that time will teach

you many things. Very soon you will

enjoy being loved by two handsome

men.”

Nisha felt confused with these

insights and wisdom. She continued

chopping the onions and thought

about Pravin. She thought about the
thrill and romance of their first
meeting, about their first night, and

about the night when her universe

crumbled.
Jayshree looked at her. She

could not make out if the tears that

rolled down her cheeks came from

emotional pain or from the onions.

***

In the courtyard, Diwakar

kneaded flour with oil and water and

passed on the portions to Parvati.

Shevak finished cutting the dried
chunks of meat with his axe and knife
and placed the lot in the large vessel of

water. Nisha, Jayshree, and Uma,

Balbir’s wife, who had also come early,
made balls out of the kneaded flour

mixture and rolled them with rolling

pins.

The guests arrived in lots and

the place was filled with laughter and

chatter. A group came and left and

then another group came. A few

gossiped while a few sang in chorus.

Diwakar sat upstairs and played
music from his mobile. Parvati started
frying the poltu and placed them on a

covered vessel. Nisha worked

mechanically, helping Parvati. She
served the guests while Parvati

cooked and sometimes they changed

places. Diwakar came down

occasionally and helped them wash

the plates. By evening, it was over and

only a few close relatives and friends

remained. Parvati took this

opportunity to inform them about the

ensuing engagement of Nisha and
Diwakar. Everyone was in favor of the
understanding and appreciated the

arrangement. Parvati felt relieved and

thanked the Devta.
Shevak, Parvati, and Diwakar

sat in the courtyard. Everyone was

exhausted after a hard day’s work.

“We need to make the announcement

next month,” Parvati said.

“I know.” Shevak puffed on his

bidi.

“Do you have some money

with you?”
“For what?” Shevak looked at
her.

“Chotu said he would send

more this month. But I need a bit
more as I wish to give a necklace to

Nisha.”
“She already has one.”

“But it’s my wish. If you cannot

help me buy one then I will give her

mine.”
“You only come up with more

expenses when you know the earnings

are low. Let me see how much we can
afford. The bank loans are there.”
 “Maybe we could sell the part

of the land that we don’t use?”

Shevak felt disturbed and
irritated. Land was close to his heart

and he could never imagine selling

any part of it even though it remained

unused.
“You foolish woman, you don’t

know what you are saying,” he yelled

at her and picked up an empty glass.

Diwakar saw his aau and realized that

he had to act promptly and stop him.
He jumped up and stood between
them and grabbed his aau by the

shoulder.
“Please calm down, Aau,
please,” he pleaded.

Shevak sat down but continued

rumbling.

“An ornament is of no use to

the family. Land can come to use at

any time. I will get you the money you

need but don’t ever think of selling

land!” He looked at her with scornful

eyes.
Parvati kept quiet, as she knew
about his ill temper. But she was

happy that he assured her he would

get the money she needed. This was
the only thing on her agenda—to give

the girl who would do much to keep

the family together a piece of gold.

“Get me the necklace when you

go to Sangla.”

“I will, but I need to get wheat

and meat also.”

“Yes, and ask your sister to

send Ria back.”
Shevak remembered that Ria
was the next liability he had. He had to

marry her off and that was an expense

also. “I will ask them to put her on a
bus to Sangla. And then Diwa can go

and bring her here.”

“Maybe Diwa could go to

Chandigarh and bring her back.”

“I don’t think that’s required.

The bus is safe and she can travel

alone.” Shevak was tired. He got up

and both went inside.

 Chapter 18

It was the first day of the mela. Snow

flurries filled the valley but the mild

wind that blew held some promise of

clearing the clouds. Dayawanti was

happy to see a gathering at the shop.

Some supplies of vegetables and
essentials like sugar, rice, and wheat had

been delivered. During the mela,

everyone brought something and
contributed to the temple.

The mela was an annual event

during winter and the locals called it

Gunga Mela. Gunga means deaf and

dumb. No one knew who would be the

Gunga; the Devta selected him and
Gunga could be either one person or

two. Once selected, the Devta spoke

through the Gunga and passed

judgments. Balbir and a few others

chatted and speculated on who would

be the Gunga this time.

Parvati saw that one of the

cows had been groaning since
morning. She took out some dried
turnips and fed her. Turnips help to

keep cows warm and provide relief

from mild diseases. But the turnips
did not help and the cow kept

groaning. Shevak was not in the

house, as he had left for Sangla. She

found Diwakar fiddling with his

mobile on the balcony.

“You need to take her to the

doctor.” A veterinary doctor was

posted in the village but his clinic was

at the far end beyond Lalaji’s shop.
Diwakar had his breakfast and
went out with the cow. It was a slow

trek for two kilometers as the cow

was sick and could not move fast.
Parvati had breakfast with

Nisha and picked up the shovel. “We

need to take out the droppings from

the cow shed. It’s loaded and will

overflow if we don’t move it.”

Both went down and made

their way to the apple orchard. Parvati

cleared a space in one corner where

the cow dung would be heaped. They
went inside the cowshed and pushed
the manure out into the courtyard.

Parvati sat down and spread a sack

that was cut open from the middle.
She started gathering the manure and

stacked them in the middle of the

sack. When enough manure were

loaded, Nisha and Parvati lifted the

sack by holding the corners and

carrying it to the clearing. By late

afternoon the shed was clear but by

that time they both looked miserable

and smelled horrible. Parvati sat down
exhausted and wiped her hands with
snow. She watched Nisha as she

cleaned hers with a towel and water.

“We will go to the temple
tomorrow. It’s no use for all of us to

spend the night there.”

“But will Aau be going

tonight?”
“Yes, he has to go. He will have

his dinner early and leave.”

Diwakar came back a while

later with the cow. He explained the

medicine to Parvati and left for the
temple.
 It was late evening and the

villagers, braving the cold, had

reached the temple. The snowfall had
stopped and the wind finally moved

the clouds. The stone bricks of the

temple floor were all covered in white.

The main complex was in the middle.

The thick wooden posts stood dark in

the twilight while the tapered slate

roof, now covered with snow,

extended on all sides. A few candles

burned near the door with flickering
flames and the light fell on the wooden
walls that depicted dragons and

deities enhancing their mystery. The

Devta sat outside the door in his
throne in solitary silence.

On the western side of the

compound stood three large halls

where the roof offered some

protection. The villagers sat outside

on the balcony under the overhang

and huddled closely together. A fire

had been lit on one corner to heat a

large vessel filled with oil. A few
women strained wheat and cleaned
the meats.

The only sound came from the

Gur, who was reciting hymns and
would perform the puja. He finished

his ritual and came back to light oil-

soaked torches on four corners. The

flames danced in the darkness of

night. An eerie silence prevailed until

the first beat of the drum. The sky was

clear with stars blinking and a quarter

moon that spread a mystic glow

across the snowscape. The beat
continued and suddenly the tempo
increased. Everyone looked around

and saw the Gunga rising from the

crowd. It was Rajaram. He walked in a
trance toward the fire and in a flick

dipped his hand in the hot boiling oil.

He took it out intact and unscathed.

This was the proof the villagers were

waiting for. It meant that the Devta

had taken possession of his body and

mind. And Devta was all-powerful. The

Gur removed a silver belt from the

Devta’s idol and wrapped it around
him. He also placed a piece of yellow
cloth over his shoulder. Finally, he was

made to wear a sheepskin helmet.

It was not that the Devta was
present constantly. The Gunga

remained silent most of the time and

only stood up when Devta wanted to

speak through him. The Gunga walked

among the crowd of people and

everyone felt scared. The Devta

passed judgment through the Gunga

and identified the non-believers, who

were fined. Sometimes it was ten
rupees, sometimes twenty, and
sometimes more. The youth that

followed him decided on the amount.

The money was collected and kept in a
fund to be used the next morning for

buying goodies like chocolates,

biscuits, and condiments. The

villagers were worried. Not for the

fine, which was negligible, but for the

loss of face in front of others.

This continued until midnight

and then the Gunga rested, or rather

the Devta rested. Everyone went
home with apprehension for the
victims, which Gunga would identify

the next day.

The second day was festive in
nature. Villagers came with sacks and

baskets of apples, wheat, flour, meat,

rajma, and other edibles and gathered

at the temple. Except for the sick and

elderly, everyone came, as staying at

home would make them a candidate

for identification as a non-believer.

Parvati and Nisha left early with

apples and buckwheat flour. Diwakar
was already in the temple. Shevak
woke up late and joined them.

The Gunga was already up and

wanted a tour of the village. The
drums and cymbals and the Gur

followed him. He walked with his eyes

half closed, speaking incoherently.

The Gunga pointed at three homes in

the village whose owners were fined.

Arvind was among them and he was

fined the highest. He had to pay a

hundred rupees to the party.

In the temple, the women and
men sang and danced while some
cooked meat and poltu. During a break

Nisha approached the Devta and

stood before him with folded hands
and closed her eyes in prayer. In her

mind, she spoke with him.

What wrong have I done that

you have given me such a punishment?

Why are you making me suffer? I have

never asked anything from you and

even now I don’t ask anything. I respect

you and have full faith in you. She

paused for a moment but then
continued again. If this is my destiny
then so be it. Just give me courage and

strength so that I perform my duties

peacefully. I have no peace in my mind.
I need your blessings. She stood there

for some more time and then went

back to sit with Parvati and the other

women.
After a while, liquor was served

and the men drank to their heart’s

content. The liquor helped them

overcome the cold and they continued

dancing until late in the evening. The
party broke up and except for the
victims, everyone went back relieved.

Ria came back after a few days.

She traveled alone on a bus to Sangla.
And as the city faded behind her, she

felt depressed. Diwakar picked her up

at Sangla and brought her home. Both

Parvati and Nisha looked at her for a

while.

It was difficult for Parvati to

approve the jeans and shirt.

“You are old enough now. You

should not wear this English dress.”
“Everybody wears these in the
city.”

“Yes, but this is the village. It

would be better if you put on
something decent.”

“You will always remain a

farmer,” Ria said and marched out of

the room.
She went inside and unpacked

her bag. She saw the packet of photos

and spread them on the bed. After a

while she forgot the exchange with

aama and called Nisha.
Both went through the photos
and Ria told her her excitedly about all

the places she had visited. She

insisted that it was the best place to
live and was much better than their

village.
“I will live in this city. I am not

going to stay here,” she announced.

All along Nisha sat silently by

her side and listened to her. Ria

finished and looked at her, expecting

some comment.
“Why are you so quiet?”
“It’s nothing,” Nisha said,
managing a weak smile.

“No, I can see you are not your

usual self. But you should be happy.
Now you will have two husbands

instead of one!”
“Do you think it’s something to

be happy about?”
“Both my brothers are good

and they will take good care of you.”

Nisha thought about speaking

her mind but realized that it was

useless to waste words with her.
“Yes, they are good and I
should be happy,” she said and went

back to the kitchen.

***
Diwakar crossed the river and

went up the slopes with his axe. He

had tried to find a few friends to go

along but everyone was busy. He

decided to go alone. He found nothing

on the nearby slopes and trekked

higher. He used the axe for support

and reached the forest. The snow had

melted from the rocks and boulders
but the ground was still covered with
a thick layer. He saw footprints of

various animals in the snow and

assumed they had gone to the river.
He sat on a boulder and glanced

around. The pines stood tall with their

bark wet from the snow. The wind

blew through them and made a whoo-

whoo sound. A few that stood in the

shadows still had snow on them.

Freshly fallen needles made a pattern

below each tree. The oaks and poplars

stood naked and bare but he knew the
new leaves would come out soon. He
looked at the spring flowing next to

the boulder. The top was frozen but he

heard the faint sound of the water
flowing underneath.

He thought about Nisha and

his dream. He smiled at the very

thought of her. In just a few days, she

would be in his arms. It was more of a

fulfillment than a desire. He thought of

the coming season and decided to

advise aama to take complete rest. He

would work the farm only with Nisha.
He thought of the many moments he
would spend with her on the field, the

meadows, the slopes, and near the

spring. He decided to straighten up
the house, the room, the courtyard,

and everything around it. He would

ask aau for two lamb kids to

accompany them to the field

everyday. He thought about planting a

few rose bushes around the fencing.

He then drew a house on the

snow with his finger, with a tree and

two lambs. He felt happy looking at it
and then clicked on a song on his
mobile. He kept it playing on the

boulder and picked up the axe.

***
Shevak sat with Ria and

listened to her intently. He had a soft

spot for her and had missed her

presence all through winter. He asked

her about everything. He also shared

his experiences in the city. He saw the

photos. “You look like a city girl.”

Ria thought about sharing her

thoughts with him but good sense
prevailed and she simply smiled. She
knew he would never approve.

“I have learned a few recipes. I

will cook them for you.”
“And what are those?”

“Noodles, a sweet dish from

carrots, and also cakes, but we don’t

have the things we need.”

“Never mind, we will try the

carrots some time.”

Parvati made pancakes and

watched father and daughter talking

together for some time. “Why don’t
you tell her not to wear those pants in
the village?”

Shevak glanced at Ria’s pained

expression and was at a loss of words.
He smiled at her but kept silent.

Parvati saw the conspiracy between

them and decided to drop the subject.

Lila got the news that Ria was

back and came to meet her. Ria

hugged her and pulled her inside. Ria

showed off her photos again and

chatted for a while until Lila

interrupted her.
“Your brother is getting
married tomorrow?”

“Yes, Nisha will be his wife

also,” Ria said casually.
“He does not want another girl

to be his wife?”
“No, both my brothers will

share her, like Aunt Jayshree.”

“So now it’s your turn?”

Ria blushed and smiled. But

then she was serious. “I need to ask

Jeet when he will be ready.”

“Ready for what?”
“For running away to the city,”
she said and realized instantly that

she had divulged a great secret. But

Lila was a trusted friend and an ally.
“But you must swear to God not to tell

anyone about my plans.”

“I swear,” Lila said, touching

her.
Ria looked at her and saw she

was sincere. She smiled at her and

both left for the courtyard.

At night, Ria went to sleep

early. But sleep eluded Nisha, and she
stood at the window gazing at the
faraway peaks. She couldn’t see the

moon but she could see the

moonshine washing the slopes that
stood tall against the dark sky. The

mountains had always instilled a

sense of freedom in her but now she

felt trapped, trapped in a situation

from which there was no escape. She

thought about how to face the

situation. It was only a day away. She

knew she could not pretend. She knew

everyone expected her to be happy.
Everyone expected her to keep the
two men happy. She knew it would be

difficult. She once again prayed for

strength and wisdom.
***

It was the morning of the

announcement. Pravin sat in the shop

with his gaze fixed outside. He had a

sense of accomplishment and felt

happy it was he who had taken the

initiative. He knew his aau treated

him differently now. He was not sure

about Nisha but hoped she would
meet all expectations. Diwa was more
than a brother and he was sure there

would never be any differences

between them.
“What are you thinking?” Raju

asked.
“It’s my brother’s marriage

today and I cannot attend.”

“Yes, you told me earlier.

Maybe you should make a phone call.”

Pravin nodded.

“And when do you plan to go

back to your village again? Remember,
you promised to take me along with
you.”

“Yes, I remember. We will

surely make a trip but not
immediately. Let my brother have fun

for a few months,” he said with a stoic

smile.

***
Shevak sat in the courtyard

while Diwa cut his hair. He took a

handful of snow to remove the

trimmings from his face and jacket.

Shevak then insisted Diwakar go for a
haircut but he refused. Winter was the
only time he could grow his hair and

he liked it as it was. He simply shaved

and washed his face.
In the kitchen, Parvati took out

her treasured shawl and the necklace

Shevak had brought from Sangla. As

per custom, the women wore a

necklace made of black beads with

three gold balls in the middle. Nisha

already had one of those, so Parvati

wanted this necklace to be different.

This had alternate green and gold
beads and Parvati felt sure she would
like it.

“This is for you. Please wear

them today,” she said and looked at
Nisha. Her eyes were sad but she saw

a hint of glitter. Nisha nodded and set

them on the bed.

“You should save this for Ria’s

marriage instead of spending the

money on an old girl like me.”

“We will think of that when the

time comes. Meanwhile you wash and

get ready. You had better get rid of
that long face,” Parvati said and
without waiting for an answer left her.

Nisha splashed water on her

face, dried with the towel and then
looked in the mirror. She rarely used

anything except some kajal for her

eyes and a bindi. She brushed her hair,

changed into a pink kameez and put

on the green topi. She wore the

necklace and wrapped in the shawl

that Parvati had given her.

Ria came in and kept looking at

her in awe. “You look beautiful. You
could easily be on TV.”
 “Maybe with a sickle and a

bundle of grass,” she said.

“No, I am serious. And this
necklace makes you gorgeous.”

“It’s a gift from your Aama. She

gave me this shawl also.”

Ria smiled, while in her mind

she was making a list of ornaments

she would need after marriage.

Jayshree came early and helped

Parvati with the poltus and the halwa.

She saw Nisha and smiled. “No
wonder Diwa agreed to the marriage.
There are very few in the village who

can match your beauty. I hope my son

takes a wife like you.”
Nisha blushed and smiled. She

decided to keep smiling at everyone

and everything that was said even if it

required an effort.
“I see you have a new necklace.

It’s beautiful.”
“It’s from Aama.”

Parvati glanced at Nisha and

felt proud. She thanked Devta that her
decision was right.
 Ria came in a while later. She

wore a kameez and a bright hooded

jacket.
“So you are next in line,”

Jayshree said.
Ria kept silent and simply

smiled at her aunt. She liked her but

was afraid of her wise words.

It was afternoon when Lamaji

came. It was not necessary for him to

come but Parvati insisted Shevak call

him. She gave him a cushion to sit on
and offered food to him. He chanted a
few hymns for peace and blessed the

couple. There was no ritual; rather

there was no custom for rituals in
such announcements. Instead, there

was just a casual get-together.

Diwakar looked a bit different in the

traditional jacket and topi. Jayshree

smiled at him and he blushed. He left

the room following Lamaji.

The relatives, hardly a dozen of

them, came soon afterward. Among

them were Shevak’s three brothers,
their wives and children, his colleague
Mahajan, Balbir, and neighbor

Balkishen. Everyone praised Nisha for

her looks and blessed her. The women
sat in the room singing songs while

the men sat outside in the courtyard.

Shevak took out a bottle of liquor and

served everyone while Diwakar

passed out almonds. Ria chatted with

the girls, telling them about the city.

The boys sat in one corner exchanging

songs and images from each other’s

mobile phones.
After everyone left, the family
gathered for a dinner of meat and rice.

“You don’t have to wait on us tonight,

Nisha. I will serve,” Parvati said.
“I will eat later, Aama. I am not

hungry,” Diwakar said.

Nisha sat down next to Ria and

had dinner. The three of them ate

silently and Ria and Nisha left the

room. Shevak lit a bidi and Parvati

arranged two plates for herself and

her son.
She looked at Diwakar. She
remembered his childhood days and
smiled. Her son was grown up now

and would soon enter the man’s

world. She was thankful he respected
family values. She prayed to God in

her mind to bless the couple and to

ensure peace and happiness.

In the other room, Ria packed

her things and placed them in one

corner. She folded her jeans with

special care and placed them in her

bag. She looked at Nisha standing at

the window.
“I am leaving this room for
both of you. It’s a big sacrifice,” she

said.
“If you want to, you can stay,”
Nisha said without turning from the

window.
“I knew you wouldn’t mind, but

my brother would beat me up,” she

said and left the room.

Nisha sat on the bed and tried

her best to comprehend the

uncertainty ahead. At one point she

felt confident she would be able to
handle being with Diwakar. She was
already familiar with his dreams. But

again she felt scared that her mind

would take over her body and he
would realize she was pretending. She

felt uneasy and drank a full glass of

water.

Diwakar came in, looked at

Nisha, and smiled. He closed the door

and placed a few logs in the bukhari.

He switched off the light and sat next

to the fire on a sheepskin and placed

another next to him. After a while,
Nisha came and joined him. Both sat
silently next to the fire.

Diwakar had been watching

her for the last few days. He had a
feeling something was wrong and she

was disturbed. Maybe it was the

marriage or maybe it was something

else. Maybe she needed time. He was

not sure. He decided to wait, as there

was no rush. He had all the time in the

world.

Nisha was confused. This was

not what she expected. He was young
and aggressive, and that was what she
knew. She had failed to notice he was

sensitive also. Maybe she had never

understood him properly except for
his infatuation. Or maybe the

infatuation was too young to mature

into love and desire. Or maybe he was

sad for some reason or preoccupied.

She never expected him to understand

her state of mind. She assumed he was

too young. But she was wrong.

Diwakar looked at the beautiful

woman seated next to him. Her face
glowed from the fire and the green
and gold beads glistened in the dark,

adding a touch of mystery. In his

mind, he knew he desired her, he
desired her intensely, but it wasn’t

physical, it wasn’t her body, it was her

company he desired. It was desire in

an innocent state, untouched and

pure, and he revered every moment of

her presence in his consciousness. He

just wanted to sit there, be at her side,

and watch her sitting next to the fire

in total silence. To him, life and love
was made up of such simple things.
And somehow he knew if he made any

impulsive move everything would be

lost. It was best not to rush things, not
to say anything. The inevitable would

happen with time.

Moments passed and after a

while they looked at each other. While

Diwakar saw a trace of a pain in her

eyes, Nisha for the first time noticed

compassion. There were no words

exchanged yet much was spoken

between them. Nisha moved close to
him and rested her head on his
shoulder. Diwakar put an arm around

her and both sat silently gazing at the

fire.
 Chapter 19

Nisha woke to the sound of music. But

the music was not in the room. It came

from outside. She noticed she had two

blankets on her instead of one. She

assumed he must have awakened much

earlier and left silently without disturbing
her. And then she remembered last night.

They had both slept after he pushed the

last log in the fire. He didn’t touch her
once. He simply smiled and was soon

asleep.
 She still felt disturbed but the

uncertainty and aversion had

lessened. She remembered his eyes
and the softness they reflected. Was

her mind betraying her? Was he the

predator watching his prey now that

he knew there was no escape for her?

She was confused. But somehow she

felt thankful. His warmth was

overpowering and even though he

barely touched her, it seemed as if he

was holding her in an intense
embrace. But there was no sense of
violation. She remembered that for a

moment she floated away from the

pain, the distress, and the reality into

a different world never visited before.

This was strange and new to her and

somehow that world, a forbidden
territory, haunted her.
She remembered Pravin and

the first night after marriage. She

remembered the intense lovemaking

and the flames that had danced

around them. She remembered the
sweat, the animal passion, and her
total surrender that night. And night

after night after that. She thought that

was love, desire in its wildest form,
free of any pretense and inhibition.

But then what was it she had

experienced last night? What about

the warmth, affection, and

compassion that touched her to the

very core? What was this other world

that managed to erase her pain if only

for a fleeting moment? Was it this she

had been searching for all along? Or
was it the sense of belonging she
missed with Pravin? She didn’t know.

Nisha thought she could never

be as free with Diwakar as she was
with his brother. But then she realized

it was up to her to keep both of them

happy and satisfied. It was up to her to

earn their respect, love, and

gratefulness. It did not matter if she

was happy, sad, or uncomfortable. The

only thing that mattered was that

both of them should know how loyal

she was to them and to the family.
Men did not want to see how happy
their women were; they want to see

how devoted they were. Maybe she

would have to pretend. She didn’t
know and once again felt confused and

unsettled.
For the rest of the day she tried

to stay away from her thoughts and

concentrate on housework. After all,

she thought, there is more to life than

analyzing the wisdom of love, and

comprehending what the future has in

store for me. She would attend to
ploughing the fields, planting the
seeds, waiting for the monsoon,

harvesting the buckwheat, grinding it,

and making pancakes.
Parvati watched Nisha while

she helped her but could not make out

anything. Sometimes she seemed a bit

lost, sometimes sad, while sometimes

her usual jovial self. They fed the

cows, made oil from apricots, spun

wool, and cooked. Diwakar was out

clearing snow at the other house and

spent time with his friends. Ria spent
the day with Lila, who came to their
house to see her photos and share her

plans for the future.

It was evening and the setting
sun painted the silvery puffs of clouds

with bright orange from behind the

western peaks. The mountains had

regained their texture as the snow

skidded off the granite surfaces in the

sun. Nisha stood on the balcony and

glanced around. She looked at the

pines that stood dark, silhouetted

against the red sky, which slowly
turned pink, then violet, and finally
gray before surrendering to the deep

blue of the night. She watched the

valley, which still remained a white
canvas. She knew the white cover also

held the promise of a colorful

landscape with blossoms, harvests,

and wildflowers. She knew that the

river would soon wake up from its

slumber, turn into a blue-green

torrent, and roar down the gorges.

The finches, wagtails, and bulbuls

would return and fill the valley with
their chatter. The peaks would turn
green and brown. The wild roses

would bloom with pride. The poplars

would swing with the wind, showing
their silvery undersides. The village

folk would sing happy songs. And,

suddenly, she longed for the fire, to sit

next to Diwakar again and just cherish

the moment.

Nisha had dinner with Parvati

and, after cleaning the plates, went to

her room. She saw him seated next to

the fire, his face glowing in the light of
the burning embers. A song played on
his mobile at a low volume but she

could make out the words.

Below the clear blue sky,
with the sun shining bright,

let’s ride away, my love,

let me be your knight...

Let’s ride across the hills,

and the plains and the meadows;

let’s ride through the forest,

between the light and shadows...

He looked at her and smiled. It

was the same innocent and simple
smile; the only baggage he had carried
all along. From the day he first met

her, from the fields, the meadows, the

river, to this room with the fire. He
gestured to her and she sat down. She

listened to the music and her mind

floated away. She could visualize the

trees, the flowers, the green grass,

birds, and the distant valley. She didn’t

know how long she floated in the

trance but keeping track of time was

not important. She looked at him. He

sat quietly gazing at the fire. Once
again she couldn’t read anything
except for the silent warmth he

radiated. She looked around and saw

the shadows dancing at a distance as
if the predator was encircling the prey

and could pounce at any moment.

Then she realized it was just an

illusion. She felt a strong urge to speak

to him, to say anything to break the

spell that threatened to overtake her.

He looked at her, and as if he read her

mind, he smiled and gestured for her

to remain silent.
Once again she was taken
aback. How could he understand her

so well? She wondered what was

going on in his mind. Here she was
sitting next to him, a girl in her youth,

attractive if not stunning, but

definitely desirable, a girl with whom

he had shared his dreams. But he

remained calm like the mountains lost

behind a wall of solitude, which she

could not penetrate. Or was it that he

said yes to the arrangement out of

compulsion. And maybe she was just a
placeholder in his dreams as she
thought she was. She got worked up

with her thoughts and finally

concluded it was all her imagination
and maybe there was no wall to

penetrate. The only truth that

engulfed her was his tenderness. And

for the first time she realized that sex

was not all that was important in love.

They barely touched each other but it

was as if they had made love. Once

again she listened to the music and

floated away.
Riding along the shoreline,
 next to the sea deep blue—

with waves greeting us,

and spraying mist on you…
I shall take the reins

while you hold on to me,

we shall not slow down—

to the unknown—we would flee...

A mild wind blew into the

room, the flames leaped a little and

the shadows danced, kissed, and made

love. She took his hand and covered it

with her palms. She did it on impulse.
She didn’t know if she did it to express
affection or love or gratitude or

simply to complement his warmth.

Both sat until the last log burned, both
sat in the inflammable ambience, in a

world they themselves created, a

world free of words, a world where

silence painted love in vivid colors.

That night she saw a dream. In

the dream, she rode a horse next to a

sea with Pravin on the reins. They

crossed the sea and entered a forest.

After a while, she listened to the
sound of a flute that came floating
from the deep. They went closer and

she saw Diwakar sitting below a tree

smiling at them with a flute in his
hand. He waved at them as they

passed him.
In the days that followed, this

became a standard ritual. At night,

they both entered their small world,

isolated and secluded, and both got

intoxicated in each other’s company.

They barely spoke or touched each

other. Nisha left all her thoughts and
worries behind and simply reveled in
the time she spent with him next to

the fire.
Sometimes they sat near the
fire, sometimes near the window, and

sometimes she simply watched him

from the bed.

The mountains watched the

spring that came dancing down to

meet the river. It was close but took a

parallel path and both ran down the

slopes in unison complementing each

other in their pace, swiftness and roll.
The snow melted, the sun
remained longer, a few grasses

peeked out of the soil with their young

green blades, warm air blew across
the peaks, a few birds returned.

Parvati looked outside and a thin

smile crossed her lips. Summer was

near. She called Diwa and Nisha and

asked them to check out the fields.

Diwa went to the village house

first and checked everything. He came

back and it was afternoon when they

both left. On the way to the farm, they
met village folk. Everyone knew about
the marriage and blessed them. Both

smiled and walked side by side across

the river. The river was still narrow
and the white sand on the exposed

banks sparkled with the sun. The

fields on both sides were still dark and

wet with hints of green scattered here

and there. The mountains stood tall as

if waking up from a long slumber. The

distant peaks faded away into a

mysterious blue. They went around

the field from one corner to the other.
Then Diwakar said, “Let’s go to
the stream.”

Nisha nodded and both went to the

stream and sat on a boulder. Diwakar
took out his mobile and clicked on his

favorite song. The stream ran below

and the far side that did not receive

the sunlight was still frozen. The

glaciers were melting and the stream

ran full-bodied, creating music and

splashing on the rocks that came its

way. The water was clear and they

could see the round pebbles lying on
its bed. A bulbul called out for his
partner. In a flash, Nisha remembered

the last time they had been there

together. She remembered his dream,
the snowfall, the swift kiss on her

cheek, and how they held hands like

children. And now, even as they sat

next to the stream, she felt like she

had every night as she sat next to the

fire with him.

The rocks guarded the sun but

a shaft of light escaped through a

crack and fell on Nisha’s face. Both got
lost in a different world of trees,
flowers, birds, and bees. Only the song

floated around them.

And when the sun comes down,
we will need some rest

sit below an age-old tree,

birds chirping in their nest...

The cool evening wind,

the last sunrays on your face—

your timeless innocent smile,

and your heavenly grace…

Nisha moved closer to him.

Diwakar looked at her for a while and
then brought his mouth close to her
ear.

“May I kiss you?” he whispered.

“Why do you ask? You never
asked me before.” She smiled and

looked at him.
Diwakar moved back and

looked down at the stream. True, he

thought, I did not ask her last time. But

that was different.

Nisha nudged him, as if waiting

for an answer.
“Your happiness is important
to me,” he said without looking at her.
 Nisha listened and thought for

a while. Nobody ever bothered about

a woman’s happiness; it was the other
way around. She looked at him and

knew he was sincere. She thought for

a while and said, “I am always happy

with you. But I don’t know if you are

happy. I just want to see you happy

too. Tell me what you want from me

that will make you happy.” She did not

know what else to say and thought

maybe now he would speak his mind.
“Just give me your pains. You
can keep the pleasures.”

Nisha looked at him. His words

touched the very core of her heart, her
being. “Why do you say that?”

“Because that’s what will make

me happy. I want to share your pains,

your sorrows. I want to see you happy

always.”

“If you want to see me happy,

never ask again.”

“What?”
“What you asked in the
beginning.”
 Diwakar moved closer and

kissed her cheek; he moved the few

strands of hair and then kissed her
ears, her earlobes. She felt

goosebumps all over. He took her in

his arms and kissed her forehead, her

eyes, and then her lips, gently tasting

her. She held on to him tightly and

kept her eyes closed. She felt aroused

and desired him intensely. They sat

like that for a while and then he

released her from his embrace.
“Now, I am happy,” she said
and smiled at him. She was not sure if

it was the truth or if he believed her,

but that did not matter. For a moment,
she really felt happy and blissful in his

arms.
It was evening and both sat in

the twilight. Nisha sat with her eyes

closed, savoring the moment. She kept

her mind closed and her thoughts

away. She rested her head on his

shoulder and held his hand while

playing with his fingers. The song
continued playing on the mobile.
 When darkness spreads all over,

stars appear on the sky

You move closer to me,
shivering and yet so shy…

I shall get some woods,

while you start humming a tune,

and light up a fire small

watching the rising moon…

“Let’s go and sit next to the

fire.” She rose up and pulled him.

“Then I want to listen to your dream.”

“Which one?”
“The one you never completed.
The one where I dance around the fire

and you play the flute. I want to know

what happens after the fire dies out.”
“Nothing, we both sleep,”

Diwakar said with a smile.

“Now you are lying. I have also

seen the dream.”

“Really? Then tell me what

happens next.”
“I will tell you tonight,” she said

and smiled mysteriously as if she had

the key to some secret book.
It was getting dark and both
stepped quickly on the way back. The

wind was cold.

Far above, the mountains
watched the river bend toward the

spring and the streams surging closer

to each other.

At home, Parvati noticed a

change in Nisha. She had been

watching her all along. She saw a hint

of the lost glitter in her eyes. She

smiled to herself and prayed to Devta

for his blessings.
It was cold that night and
Diwakar carried in a few more logs

than usual. He lit the fire and kept the

lid of the bukhari open. He rubbed his
palms on the flames to soak up the

heat. He played his song and kept the

mobile next to the bukhari.

Nisha came in and found the

room warm. She glanced at him once

and went to the window while

listening to the song.

The night will wake up soon

with a silvery moonlight spread
trees dark and tall,
 hidden in a mystic shade…

You will smile at me,

and then get up to dance,
moving around the fire,

as if in a primitive trance...
She went to the bed and picked

up a blanket. She placed it on the other

side of the bukhari and gestured for

him to sit there while she sat on the

sheepskin opposite him. She felt hot

and removed her jacket and topi and

let her hair down. She wore a red
kameez and a white salwar. The
bukhari lid was open and the flames

leaped out every now and then. In the

light of the flame, Diwakar saw her
and kept looking. He was lost in

another world, in his dream. She was

sitting out there, but in his mind, he

saw her dancing. With the flames.

Around the fire.

Time went back a million years—

distant drums filling the space,

the flames will join you...

putting colors on your face...
The trees will watch in wonder,
 as you dance around,

stars will blink in awe...

even the moon will arch down...
“But I don’t know how to

dance,” she said, smiling at him.

The spell broke and he

returned his thoughts to the room. He

saw her once again in the light of the

fire. He desired her strongly. Both felt

hot from the heat of the fire and he

noticed beads of sweat on her face. He

smiled and she came and sat next to
him. Close. Almost touching. He could
smell her hair, her sweat. The song

played on…
And when the dance is done,
you will sit next to me,

I will be looking at you...

dark eyes filled with glee...

You will stretch on the grass,

below the mystic skies...

moonshine painting your dreams

while I kiss your eyes...

She listened. She knew the

song was the inspiration of his
dreams. She moved away slightly and
sat facing him. The room was dark but

he could see her clearly. She unhooked

and removed her kameez. Diwakar
watched her. Her face glowed in the

orange light. Her long black hair

flowed on both sides of her face partly

covering her breasts. He could see

them, not too large, not too small.

Perfect. Her eyes remained fixed on

the fire. He moved forward and closed

the lid of the bukhari, trapping the

flames inside. But the flames inside
him burned intensely, tormenting
him.

She stretched next to him on

her back, removed the rest of her
dress, and pulled him next to her. He

lay down on his side, facing her with

his head raised with one arm. She

raised her head and brought her

mouth close to his ears and

whispered, “Now, don’t ask anything.”

Then she closed her eyes, as if waiting

for him to kiss them.

He kissed her eyes. Then the
tip her nose. The lobe of her ears. He
tasted her sweat, drank it from her

cheeks, from her dimples, her neck. He

touched her breasts, moist and warm,
cradled them softly in his palm, and

then kissed them gently, circling the

nipples with his tongue. He pressed

his cheeks against them, feeling her

heart thumping below her ribs. He

came back and kissed her lips, putting

his tongue inside. She shivered and

tried to keep still. He kept kissing her

while his hand explored the hills, the
meadows, the valleys, the ravine, and
the gorge. And then he came back and

rested his hand on the plateau that

nested the small hollow of her navel,
making small circles with his finger.

He moved down and kissed her toes.

Her ankle. Her calf. Soft, sweet, and

short kisses. He kissed her knees, the

soft inside of her thighs, the valley of

pleasure, pausing there a bit, tasting

her wetness. She shivered and stirred,

feeling deeply aroused. And then he

moved up. He was on top of her,
crouching on his elbows. She pulled
him close and guided him inside her.

She felt her own wetness against him

as he went deep inside her.
He slid his hands beneath her

armpits and placed them below her

head and raised her up. He kissed her,

and at the same time, kept on with the

motion plunging inside her, reaching

the very depths of pleasure. It was as

if the mountains inspired the rhythm

with which their bodies responded.

He was a natural lover. He was intense
but not forceful, strong yet gentle,
passionate and loving. As if she was a

river and he sailed on it. He kept

watching her every now and then and
planted soft kisses. He was thrusting

faster and faster, the rhythm

increased, reached a crescendo and

then he came inside her. She felt him

shudder on top of her, she felt him

move inside her, and then she felt him

coming inside her and she came also.

It was as if a tremor hit her. She felt a

mind-numbing joy, and for a moment,
she blanked out into a world of bliss. It
felt like heaven, like the mountains,

the valley, the river, the green

meadows, the birds, the sky, the
moon, and the stars. Only a few

minutes had passed but it seemed like

an eternity.

She enjoyed every moment of

it and as he slid next to her, she kept a

hold of him while he put his arm

around her. The song ended but the

tune still floated in the room. She

listened to him breathing deeply and
felt his heart thumping against her
breast, slowly calming down. She

kissed him.
She allowed her mind to
ponder. She felt enriched, enriched by

the knowledge and realization that

there existed two women inside her,

while one wanted to be pure and

devoted to the only love of her life, to

be a slave to her ideology, conforming

to her values, the other wanted to

indulge and get intoxicated in the

forbidden pleasure that lured her. And
she realized that she had to maintain
a balance between the two. She could

never allow both of them to meet

except in due reverence; otherwise,
she knew that there would be disaster

as one would destroy the other. She

also realized she herself had the key to

her freedom, to her pleasure, and she

could decide when to let which

woman out.
The mountains watched as the

spring met the river and the river

guided it on its journey toward the
ocean of perpetual bliss.
 Chapter 20

In the weeks that followed, the ice melted

and the fields were ready for sowing.

Huge glaciers that formed on the peaks

also melted. They fell on the meadows,

near the waterfall and wherever they

could make way across the slopes.
Sometimes they came down with

boulders, sometimes uprooting trees.

Sometimes they made loud rumbling
noises, scaring the cows and the dogs.

The snow made the soil rich and fertile.

The family shifted to the village. Parvati

waited for the Bishu puja, as only after

the puja could they sow the seeds. During

the puja, each family made wheat breads,
which the Gur offered to the Devta for his

blessings for a good harvest. The valley

once again came back to life. Young

greens appeared on the branches of oaks

and poplars. The apple orchards showed

signs of a fresh bloom. The grass grew
tall on the side of the roads, riverbanks,

and hills. Small yellow marigolds raised

their colorful heads. The river regained

its blue-green torrents; it grew in size and
slowly expanded in its bed, expanding

toward the banks, submerging the

exposed rocks and boulders on its way.
The wagtails, barbets, and finches

returned and filled the ravine with

chatter. The pines stood in all their

majesty, glistening in the summer sun.

The schools opened. The students got

new books. The roads were repaired. A
gate was put up to mark the entrance to

the village. Shankar the Yak Bull groaned

and roamed around with vigor, chasing

every cow that came his way.

Parvati got busy and discussed

a recital by Lamaji. She planned a
green flag for the upcoming harvest.

They could not afford another poor

harvest, as already the stocks were

running low. She planned to get two

blankets woven from the wool she

made and also to knit two pairs of

socks for Nisha and Ria. She decided

to ask Shevak to put in tiles in the

toilet; to ask Chotu to buy her a new
pressure cooker and a few rat traps; to
ask Diwa to replace the fencing in the

backyard; to get a new pair of shoes

with a soft sole, like the ones she saw
on Jayshree’s feet; to offer puja at the

temple, for a grandson and a groom

for Ria. She decided to visit the

farmland soon, though Diwa and

Nisha said it was not necessary. It was

difficult for her to get out of the habit.

There was nothing much to do at

home except for cooking. She spent

time reciting hymns and visiting the
temple, neighbors, and relatives.
 Shevak remained active with

replacing and reinforcing the weak

and vulnerable poles that got
uprooted during winter. He pulled

together a team of village boys and

with their help replaced large parts of

the cable. He explored the possibility

of a hydropower unit as suggested by

Chotu and spent the rest of his time in

the orchard with a hope to harvest the

maximum number of apples from

whatever remained of the trees after
the damage. He bought pesticides,
fertilizers, sprays from Sangla and

devoted his time with other growers

in discussing preventive measures. He
also planned to paint the rooms which

got dark from the smoke of the

bukhari, to change the tin roof with a

better slope to make it easy for the

snow to skid off, to buy a few

fluorescent bulbs for better lighting, a

new razor for shaving, and to make a

visit to Rampur.
Balbir decided to go out on
pilgrimage, his last hope to get a son.
He planned to visit at least nine places

across the country. He considered

organizing a tour. He went around
canvassing and his tour filled up

slowly. Everyone in the village aspired

to see the outside world. The

destinations went up to eleven. He

decided to make no profit. Dayawanti

pestered Lalaji to send her on the

tour. Like many others, she also had

never gone anywhere beyond Rampur,

and even then, it was only for picking
up goods for the shop. Lalaji ignored
her at first but finally consented.

Balbir decided to book a bus.

Everyone decided to hold a meeting to
fix the date and to offer a puja and

sacrifice a lamb to Devta before the

journey.

***
Ria went to school and

managed to get a group of admirers

who subscribed to her colorful

episodes about city life. She also

advised her friends on applying
lipstick, wearing make-up, and
plaiting hair. Soon she became a star

in her group. She had a few meetings

with Jeet who found her more
attractive now. She kept a good

distance from him, which, as per her

sister’s advice, was supposed to make

him more desperate for her. She stood

firm on her resolution to settle in the

city and decided to go it alone if he

lacked the courage.

Diwakar and Nisha spent most

of their time on the farm, tilling the
land, sowing seeds and removing
weeds. Shevak bought two kid lambs,

which accompanied them. Parvati

went with them sometimes but they
did not allow her to do anything. She

simply sat under the tree with the

lambs, where she knitted socks and

served lunch. She watched both of

them in amusement as they worked in

the field, sometimes chatting,

sometimes chasing, sometimes

fighting. Both were lost in each other’s

company and enjoyed every moment.
In their spare time, they roamed
around visiting the hidden meadows,

the waterfalls, the valley beyond the

village, the pine forest near
Mastarang, the slopes on the sacred

peak, the bridge close to Dongri, and

the gorge down below. They took

pleasure from the small things the

valley presented them. From the

pebbles on the river, the white

anemones, the marsh marigolds, the

yellow and blue poppies, the wild rose

bush, from the barbets, finches,
wagtails, the green grass, the dew
drops on them, from the clouds, wind,

and the sky. Some days they skipped

the farm and went to the dongri. They
cleaned the courtyard, the roof, the

cowshed, the balcony, removing the

dried leaves and the dust. They

planted marigolds, rose bushes

around the courtyard, and creepers

around the fencing. Sometimes they

lit the bukhari and sat next to it

listening to songs and sometimes they

made love.
Nisha enjoyed life as she had
never enjoyed it before. It was a

totally new and unexpected world for

her. Maybe it was the world she had
always wanted, the world she wanted

after her marriage to Pravin. She

experienced a strong sense of

belonging. She wondered sometimes

what would have happened if she had

married Diwakar in the first place.

Over a period of time, her

feelings of guilt lessened and her

ideologies and wisdom receded
further. She doubted if they really held
any meaning for her, as all along the

only thing she earned out of them was

distress. She started enjoying life and
revered each moment, each day,

looking no further, thinking no

further. A wild sense of freedom

engulfed her as she realized her

happiness belonged to her and no one

could make her unhappy unless she

allowed them to.

***
Pravin came home with Raju
two months later. All the while he had
worked hard and sales had doubled at

the shop. Gangaram was happy and

provided one more helping hand. He
increased his salary and even gave

him a percentage of the profit. At

home, he gave them a small TV set

with a cable connection. Pravin kept

sending regular amounts home. He

also saved a part of his salary in a local

bank; he still cherished his dream of

owning his own shop one day.

At home, everyone was
delighted to see him. Diwakar decided
to stay at home with his aaté. Parvati

decided to cook meat and rajma dal.

Even Shevak greeted him with a smile.
Nisha was overjoyed when he gave

her a mobile phone.

Raju quickly became friends

with Diwakar. Both went out and

explored the village. Diwakar showed

him around the temple, the river, the

meadows, the stream, and the

orchards. Raju chattered constantly,

telling him about Rampur, the market,
about how he and Pravin had spent
their holidays, where they went, what

they ate, and more. Diwakar treated

him with noodles every day at Lalaji’s
shop. It was as if two lost brothers had

met after a long separation. Raju

relished the home-cooked food,

Diwakar’s company, and the care and

affection from Nisha. He felt as if he

was with his own family. He felt

homesick and decided to drop by at

home on his way back to Rampur.

“Now I can talk with you
anytime I want,” Nisha said when both
of them retired for the night.

Pravin watched her. She did

not seem to be as distressed as she
had been when he was with her last.

She was calm and it seemed she had

made peace with her mind. She sat

close to him but somehow he felt that

the Nisha he knew, the girl who had

belonged to him, was a bit different

from the one who sat next to him. He

did not feel bothered; instead, he felt a

strong desire, as if it was the first time
with her. He was in no mood to talk,
but rather to act.

He made love. Wild love. He

rode her like a bull quenching a thirst
not satiated over the past two

months. Nisha relished the hurricane

that passed over her. She felt pain but

also felt proud in the fact that she was

desirable. She tried responding but he

took no notice and went on

rampaging, as if to prove his superior

manhood, establish his expertise, his

authority. And then he lay drenched
and exhausted. Nisha wiped off sweat
from his face and chest and kissed

him. He smiled. And Nisha knew it was

a smile of contentment.
She also knew he was different;

he lacked the gentleness, the

tenderness of his brother. But

somehow she enjoyed the change. She

enjoyed the tempest. Her submission.

She did not know if it helped her

reduce her sense of guilt but she felt

more free and devoted the rest of the

days to satisfy him as best she could.
She was thankful she could stay away
from pretension, as her responses,

which came naturally, were enough to

provide him the necessary confidence
and reassure him of her commitment.

Pravin left after a week. And

Nisha missed him. She realized her

first love would always have a special

place in her heart. Much like the first

rains of monsoon. And even the

distance did not have any effect. She

thought once again about the true

meaning of love. She remembered the
days when she first met Pravin, the
days of courtship, and then the days

immediately after marriage. At that

time, she thought she knew the
meaning of love and that she had

found love in him—that he was the

true symbol of love. His embraces,

kisses, words, the exchanges, the

pleasure was what love was all about.

The sense of possession. The sense of

belonging. The memory of pleasure.

But after the first few months

when the nighttime ritual became
routine and when she surrendered
night after night to mindless

lovemaking, she had thought once

more. And it was then that she
realized that love was not just a

momentary feeling and the pleasant

memory of a sensual pleasure. It was

more than that. It was something else.

The memory of pleasure always led to

expectation and if it was not met, it

led to frustration, despair, and

depression. It could not be love.

Then she came to know
Diwakar with his warmth, affection,
understanding, and care. And his

innocent smile. His dreams. The fire.

The flames. The song and the silence.
It was a different world she entered

every evening. She became aware of a

new kind of desire that extended

beyond her physical entity. That made

her want to be close to him, just to be

near him and nothing more, and that

gave her happiness. Immense

happiness. And though the inevitable

did take place, it was not important. It
was just a form of embrace. Mutual.
There was no sense of possession.

Neither of them wanted to possess

the other. She felt free to choose
whatever she wanted to do. She had

felt confused once again about the

meaning of love.

With Pravin, it was different.

And though the sense of submission

was pronounced, she relished it. As if

it made her really free in a different

way. With him, she became aware of

the many sides of human nature. With
him, she shared her wild side. The
mind slept and the body engaged in

mindless primal pleasure. She did not

know if other women also took
pleasure in sex, as such discussion

was taboo. Women taking delight in

sex was forbidden. They were simply

expected to provide pleasure and bear

children. She thought that probably no

one took pleasure in the suffering, the

pain, and the humiliation, but still

everyone aspired, and then found

justification in such sacrifice from the
respect they earned from their
husbands, family, and society.

She wondered how Jayshree

felt. On the outside she looked like any
other woman of the village. She could

never ask her. She remembered her

cousin who was married to three

brothers. She wondered if she also

remained a slave of the system and

took it as her duty to serve three men.

She thought about Draupadi in the

epic and her five husbands. While

three of the brothers were old enough,
the twins were much younger. She
wondered if she could love them all

the same. She knew she was supposed

to be married to only one initially. She
tried to imagine her mental state and

how she had made peace with her

fate.

She realized it was difficult to

break away from this sense of

sacrifice and maybe that was the

reason she found Pravin’s company

addictive, the sense of self-denial

overwhelming in keeping with the
custom and tradition. In earning his
respect, in letting him know how loyal,

dedicated, committed she was,

listening to the appreciation all
around even if it meant forfeiting her

own pleasure in the process.

She remembered the first time

he proposed the common marriage.

She had felt troubled and her world

fell apart. At the time, she saw such an

arrangement as a sacrifice of her

ideals and destruction of love. She felt

her own values crumbling under the
profound weight of family values. Her
very existence as an individual was at

a grave risk and it did not matter. She

felt threatened, humiliated, and
disgraced. She couldn’t find any

justification in that sacrifice. Rather

the justification it provided did not

address her sense of happiness or well

being. She was confused, and she was

terribly shaken.
And yes, sacrifice was there.

But it was not a sacrifice of her dignity

or self-respect. She had to sacrifice
her understanding, her notions, her
expectations about love and life. She

sat every night next to the fire. And in

her mind, she made a bonfire of past
knowledge and burned everything.

Everything she knew and

remembered until then, the sense of

possession, the memory of pleasure,

the concept of love so deeply

engraved. Finally, she was totally free.

There was nothing left to compare, to

judge, to evaluate.
That was when she learned to
live every moment. It was as if she
was a brook flowing down the hills.

Every slope seemed to be new; every

gorge held the promise of excitement;
every crevice held the surprise of

chatter; every bend had the assurance

of a thrill. She learned to be aware

without the interference of knowledge

and thought. She realized that like the

brook, which could choose its own

way, each day she also had the power

to choose the truth with which she

wanted to live. Like the brook, which
washed down dirt and rocks in its
path, she also could wash out age-old

concepts and values on her journey to

rediscover life.
She had always wanted to

understand love. Even in her college

days, she saw many of her friends

suffer and she knew something was

wrong. She found them heartbroken

whenever they lost someone. She

laughed at herself as she recalled at

one point she even thought that

having a family, working in the fields,
cooking food, bearing children, and
getting old was what love was all

about. And she remembered falling in

love and seeking love in that person.
All along she was wrong in her search

of love in the other individual.

And now she knew she could

never find love in someone else. She

knew the lines she treasured for so

long from the movie were wrong.

There was no use searching for love in

someone who was born for her. Even

if he existed. Love existed in her own
self. Inside her. But to comprehend it,
to understand it, to awaken it, she

needed the other person. Someone

who would pull the right strings that
made her sing, someone with whom

she could share her feelings, her

thoughts, her dreams. It was not just

someone with whom she could grow

old, someone with whom she could

share the murmur of the brook.

***

Diwakar sat next to the stream

on the boulder. During the last few
days, he had been happy, as the whole
family was together. And more so for

Raju whose innocence touched him.

He wished they could all stay together
forever.

Nisha sat next to him throwing

pebbles in the water. She noticed he

was lost in thought. She ran her finger

on his back.

“What are you thinking?” she

asked.

“Nothing.”
“Are you sad? I was not with
you for the last few days.”
 “I missed you but why should I

be sad? I saw you happy and cheerful, I

saw aaté in high spirits, and I felt
good. We all need to be happy,

always.”
Diwakar looked at Nisha. His

Nisha. And somehow he knew she

would always be there for him, with

him, next to him, to share his dreams.

With the moonshine. With the

birdsongs. With the morning dew.

Nisha looked at him. She liked
his simple and uncomplicated
approach to life. She felt the strong

wave of affection and love that

touched her. He stood like a tree that
not only soothes with its shadow but

also sends down the breeze. She knew

there was always room for her in the

branches. They would hold her in

tenderness; protect her from the heat,

the rain, the storms. She wanted to

treasure it forever.

The last rays of the sun kissed

the eastern peaks. A soft breeze came
down the valley and formed a wave
across the yellow-mustard fields. The

pines shivered, the leaves fluttered on

the oaks and poplars, a flock of
pigeons flapped their wings, the

buckwheat fields bowed down, the

river flowed in torrents, two wagtails

hopped on the banks, the first star

peeped out above the peaks in the

ultramarine sky, and the only sound

that remained was the murmur of the

brook.
She took his hand and
squeezed. He looked at her. “Let’s go
sit next to the fire.”
 Chapter 21

Five years later…

Diwakar stacked the buckwheat hay

while Nisha strained the husk from

the grains. Both felt happy, as the

harvest was good. They decided to

take a break and join Parvati.

Parvati sat below the tree

knitting socks with two lamb kids and
her two grandsons, Deepak and

Pritam. They both ran toward Diwakar

as they saw him coming.
 “Aau, please make us a bow,”

said Deepak, the younger one.

“Chote papa, please make us
some arrows also. Aaya said you know

how to make them,” said Pritam.

Diwakar reached the tree and

stretched on the grass. The boys sat

on both sides and kept nagging him.

“But what will you do with

bows and arrows?”

“We will guard the house from

leopards,” said Pritam.
Diwakar smiled at them. “I will
get some branches tomorrow and

teach you how to make them.”

Both clapped in joy and went
out in the field. The lambs followed

them.
Nisha sat resting her back on

the tree. She looked at the boys. As per

custom, she gave the first son to the

elder brother. While Pravin’s son

Pritam was a bundle of mischief,

Deepak, his brother’s son, though

younger, was not far behind. He
followed his brother everywhere and
was a partner in crime and

destruction. Both kept the household

on their toes, except when their Aaya
(Parvati) told them stories. Except

when their Teté (Shevak) took them

out. Both slept with Aaya at night, but

every once in a while, they slept with

her also.

Both the boys loved her. Their

fathers loved her too. Aama and aau

loved her. What more could she want

of life? The only thing she longed for
was a formal marriage ceremony that
would seal both the acceptance and

unity of her families. And she knew

that would happen soon.
 Epilogue

The village wore a festive look. The

marriage season came after the apples

had been harvested. And this was the

only marriage in the village that year. A

light drizzle passed the valley and the

pines stood with beads of water all over
them, glistening in the last rays of the

October sun. The poplars, oaks, and

deodars stood fresh and clean listening to
the chatter of the barbets and finches. A

flock of pigeons circled high above,

flapping their wings, which echoed
across the mountains.

The sun went down beyond the

western peaks sending out streaks of

gold and orange. Some of the colors

touched the peaks while others played

with little puffs of twilight clouds. By

evening, the villagers gathered at the

temple. The children played in the

courtyard. The elders, dressed in gray

and brown jackets, sat on the steps on

the eastern side. The women, dressed
in green jackets, green topis, and huge
silver necklaces, squatted near the

main compound in the center. It

housed the Devta who was the
guardian god of the village. He was

brought outside and sat in his throne

majestically to oversee the marriage

and bless the couple.

The musicians sat with their

drums, cymbals, flute, and trumpet on

the ground next to the Devta and were

dressed in long brown jackets and

yellow scarves tied around their
waists. In one corner, a big fire was lit
where poltu (fried pancakes) and

meat was cooked for the guests. Large

vessels filled with local apple liquor
stood alluringly with the promise of a

colorful night.
Parvati, the groom’s mother,

sat with a few old women from her

family. Her daughter Ria, who came

from Chandigarh for the marriage

along with her husband Parminder,

oversaw the cooking. Shevak, the

groom’s father, took care of the
bride’s family. He had retired recently
and had enough time to brew the best

liquor for the marriage. He never

drank but made sure his guests drank
to their heart’s content.

The moon came out and

washed the compound with its soft

silver light. Tall wooden torches were

lit on all corners. The musicians

started playing the drums and the

flames danced to the beat. The women

stood up, held hands, and formed a

circle around the compound. They
sang in chorus, primitive songs
carried over thousands of years. The

men danced in the middle.

Pravin, Diwakar and Nisha, the
bride and the grooms, sat near the

western wall below the shades. Pravin

and Diwakar sat in a white jacket and

woolen trousers while Nisha wore a

shawl with three borders over a light

gray blanket, which her mother-in-law

had wrapped around her in keeping

with the tradition. They knew that

very soon they would also have to join
the dance. Earlier, the bride’s parents
had blessed them with gold. While

Nisha got a necklace and a pair of

earrings, both Pravin and Diwkakar
got gold-plated watches, which they

wore with much pride.

Nisha looked around. Her

brother sat next to her and kept on

looking at his sister, chatting

occasionally. She felt happy to see her

parents enjoying the celebration. She

saw her mother and cousin’s sisters

dancing with the group while her
father drank merrily with the elders.
She searched for Ria, and saw her in

one corner of the compound playing

with her two boys, Pritam and Deepak.
The elder Pritam was ten years old;

the younger Deepak was eight. Both

were like two bundles of mischief but

she was assured that Ria would be

able to manage them. The women

came in a queue and adorned the

three of them with garlands made of

almonds and walnuts.

Soon the cymbals joined the
drums, shattering the silence of the
valley. The percussion stopped

abruptly and someone took the flute

and played a primitive song. The tune
floated up with the silence of the night

and touched the peaks, which cradled

the valley and its people.

- THE END -
 About the author

Debashis Dey gave up a high-powered

career in Media to live among tribal

nomads in the Himalayas.

Born in Calcutta, Debashis Dey worked

for media and television in Mumbai for

twenty years. After chasing the rat race
through senior corporate positions, he

realized he couldn’t take another day. He

sold his apartment and car, gave away his
possessions, and moved to the Himalayas

to live in a remote village populated by

tribal nomads.
He has been writing poetry and short
stories since his college days and also
contributes to The American Chronicle.
This is his first novel. Murmur of the

Lonely Brook, reflects his immersion into

an ancient culture that continues to follow

age-old rituals, customs, and traditions. A

major portion of the proceeds from this

book will be used to build a health
facility for the downtrodden women of

the region.
Author’s Website