A Promise

 

It is June, mid summer. To the people walking in the street without an umbrella, it feels as if the heat is crushing you. The smoke from vehicles and the dust off the street rises into the air—it creates a thick fog of dirt. People on the street hurry by, covering their mouths.

 A peddlar walks by with his cycle on tow. On the back of the cycle, there is a huge basket and on it is a dizzying array of mangoes. The mangoes are covered with a cloth. He walks slowly pulling the cycle,  sweating profusely in the sweltering heat. He wears a simple vest and a wrapper for his legs, but he doesn't have a mask. He shouts  at short intervals, 'taja taja aap ayo hajur, taja taja aap',   which translates to 'you can find fresh mangoes here.'

He now looks over at the traffic police who shoos him away into a narrow alleyway. He keeps moving this way and that, from one street to the next, never stopping except for short intervals. Some people call out to him. They ask for the price and haggle, ask if the mangoes are fresh. His collection of mangoes slowly dwindles. As night falls, he hurries along—parks his cycle and enters the slum where he lives. It has been a long day.

 As he gets on his bed,he thinks of his village. His wife and mother live in the village. They live in a small shack. They work on the field of other sahujis, growing seasonal vegetables and grains.

Being a peddlar is tough work, but it is better than roaming aimlessly in the village streets. He hasn't been a peddlar for long. After he lost his house to the earthquake, his uncle brought him along to the city to work. He was told that if he worked hard, he would earn more money than he could ever earn in the village.

He now thinks of his wife. Her kohl smudged dark eyes, a red bindi on her forehead,her long black flowing hair, her beautiful smile. His stomach aches with longing. It hasn't been long since their marriage.This year will be the first time she fasts for him. He has promised to bring her golden bangles. It is with this thought that he finally drifts off to sleep.

With changing seasons, his cart's contents changes. Sometimes it's fruits, other times it's vegetables, and so forth. Peddaling with whatever is in demand in the market, he works hard to earn meager cash.

It is finally October. The city looks beautiful and clean. Festival season is fast approaching. He awaits the day when he can go home.

On the day before he goes home,he carries new clothes on his cycle's basket. He is stationed on one of the main roads of the city. By evening, half of his clothes are sold.  Business has been good.At night, he carefully takes out his stash of money and counts it. A smile spreads on his tired face.

The day he leaves finally arrives.This is his first time returning to the village since he left a year back.He has bought those golden bangles, which he has stashed safely in his jacket's inner pocket. He taps his chest, thinking of his wife's  smile. He whistles a happy song as he gets on the bus.

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 All year Renu worked tirelessly, looking after her aging mother in law, keeping the house clean and taking care of cattle. She did this without complaint, keeping her thoughts and opinions to herself.  

Renu had always known, even as a child, that one day she would get married and go to live at her in-laws' house. Girls were taught to expect this uncertainity early along in their lives. But what  she hadn't known was she would be lucky enough to be married off to a family which had a mother in law who adored her and a husband who loved her.

Her husband worked in the city. He sent monthly allowances through money transactions. That money was not enough as they were saving up to build a new house. She and her mother in law still had to work for daily sustenance.

Renu dreamt even though she knew her dreams were always going to be a fantasy. She dreamt of a good life, a fulfilling life where ideally her husband could stay back and work in the village. Her dream wasn't selfless but it was her own.She knew it was wishful thinking. That didn't stop her from dreaming.

Time went by. She often thought of her husband.  She was worried that he worked too much. She knew how determined he was to build a new house. The thought of him slaving away in a foreign city made her insides twist with anxiousness. She thought about his whispered promise of buying her a pair of golden bangles, and how unreal that promise sounded. 

 Finally the time of year arrived when she got hopeful. Happiness seeped into her heart slowly. It was the season of festivals and her husband would be arriving soon.

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Renu has a sleepless night. She tosses and turns in her bed. Even though it is cold out, she is sweating profusely.She has a bad feeling in her gut. She tries reassuring herself that nothing is amiss. But it is useless. She can’t stop worrying. Only after recalling a prayer softly to herself does she feel  at ease and finally dozes off.

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On the other hand, Mukunda is in a bus that rocks back and forth lulling him into a deep slumber. Around midnight, he wakes up. He needs to take a piss. He gets off the bus. It is raining softly. He goes into the bushes to relieve himself.

At that precise moment,he hears a sliding noise, a loud bang of collision. His mind goes blank. He trembles, frozen with fear.

After his initial shock, he runs over. He sees two buses slammed into one another, with broken glass everywhere.  There is rancid smell of burning rubber ,and a smoke bellowing into the dark sky. It is a gruesome scene to watch. As it is raining, the fire has died down.Some villagers from nearby have gathered. People are searching for survivors.

He cries softly and thanks god silently for his survival. Then, he goes over to help.

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Renu was woken up with some terrible news. The bus that was headed towards the village had crashed some miles away. Her husband had been on that bus. There had been few survivors. All survivors and the bodies of the dead had been taken to a nearby hospital.

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Renu hurries along the hospital corridor. The smell of the recently cleaned floors gives her a headache.  Her heart is racing. Tears do not stop flowing. She is afraid that she won't find her husband alive.

'My husband was on that bus. ' This paralyzing thought keeps repeating in her mind. She has little idea of what she needs to do, where she needs to go. Her fear paralyzes her.

 She steels herself for the worst possible scenario.Her husband may be dead, or he may be alive and seriously injured.   

She hears the terrible sound of someone wailing. She follows that sound, inching forward with dread seeping into her heart. A group of villagers are gathered around a dead body. She cannot bring herself to look at it.

At that very moment, Renu feels a hand on her shoulder. She turns back and it is Mukunda. She lets out a yelp of relief and joy.

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Tears trickle down Renu's face. It isn't tears of sorrow, but of  joy. She looks at Mukunda's face. He has become thin and tan. He has a bandaged hand but apart from that, he looks alright.

The shock slowly subsides. They realize that it is pointless to remain in the hospital. They leave.

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The morning air is crisp. Road is red and muddy. Birds are chirping. It is a beautiful morning for lovers to reunite.

Mukunda steals glances at Renu. She is smiling. His heart swells with love. He reaches for his jacket pocket.

'I have something for you.'

Renu looks at him with questioning eyes.

He takes out the bangles wrapped in paper. He hands it to her.

 She is frozen for a moment. She has so much to say but no words come out of her mouth. She hugs him and doesn't pull apart for sometime.

They walk back towards the village, holding hands and talking softly.