Shahi Paneer

He woke up with a start. It had been a nice dream (he had been made the Sarpanch and was driving a brand new tractor across his lands). Nice dream indeed. Time to wake up, he thought reluctantly because above him was the horrible face he saw every day. His wife was almost strangling him, asking him to get off the mat. He swore (not to his wife ofcourse, he wasn’t out of his mind), pulled up his ragged dhoti and went outside for a bath.

Murari had lived in this small village for as long as he could remember. From the stories told by Sarita Chachi living next door he presumed that he must have been born here as well. He had grown up in the village streets with no friends. He had seen this small village turn into a town. They even had a cinema theatre now. And though much had changed around him, Murari himself remained the same. He was what could be very generously considered, a poor man but still a man of honor and values. His occupation included picking scrap from the road and industrial waste which was bought by the ‘big thakur’ of the village for his industries. He, along with some shouting kids went street to street for their livelihood which ironically was the waste of the rich.

His wife Lakshmi (who he never failed to compare to an old goat) was a God-fearing woman in her late 40’s (though she looked much older). Well! She wasn’t very good-looking, he often thought but all in all she was a very honest and a loving partner who had stood by him in the worst of his days (his days were always bad, he meditated). He loved her too. If only she could cook shahi paneer for him someday, he would love her even more.

“Wake up! Wake up you moron!”, Lakshmi was not in best of her moods.

“Huh! Hmmmph!”, was all he could manage.

He had been dreaming again. Of food, a much better dream. A five course meal was being served to him. Shahi Paneer and butter rotis, tandoori chicken, rajma with curd, gulaab-jamun for dessert and all the things he could…well…‘dream of’. If there was anything he loved more than dreaming…it was food.

“I want Shahi Paneer when I come back tonight”, his mouth was still watering.

She looked at him incredulously.

“What? Just a simple nice looking Shahi Paneer. Didn’t your mother teach you how to cook?”

“My mother taught me how to cope up with nagging husband but not his stupid demands. Look at the vessels. All empty. You will only get onion and chapati for lunch today. Shahi Paneer”, she mocked.

“Have you done anything but fight all your life?”

“Oh yes! I have given a nice spanking to my husband whenever he tried to irritate me”

“What Lakshmi? You never have. Please! Just this once! We will save for some time but cook paneer tonight. I promise I will buy you payal from the mela”

“You haven’t taken me to the mela in 20 years. Just get the hell out of this house and don’t show your face before 9’O clock”

Crestfallen, he started to leave.

“Wait… You were right I think”, she called out from behind.

His eyes shone. Finally. With a sly smile he turned back.

“You were right I haven’t given you a beating yet but if you come back without raashan today, I will have to think about it again”

Murari who knew his wife pretty well saw the belan in her hand and decided in his best interest to leave as soon as possible.

It was a two mile walk to the town from his hut. Everyday he took this walk with utmost enthusiasm. Murari loved the world and it’s many miracles. He loved the creation of God and the wonders of man alike. He liked the colors around him. He was infatuated by the noise all those big cars created. He sometimes stood for hours admiring the big hoardings with beautiful people looking out at him. The posters attracted him as much as the nice dresses the children running off to school wore. He liked to watch people, their attitude towards their fast life and the way they all looked at him. Wherever Murari went, he was looked down with contempt and an ill feeling. He often wondered why? Wasn’t he made of the same elements that they all were? Didn’t he sometimes clean the filth no one would even want to touch? But those questions were old now. He had accepted his life as it was. Though not much of a philosopher, he had his own ideas for himself which told him that it is only the poor man who accepts life as destiny.

He often wondered what lay beyond the borders of this town. If they had the same colors, same light, if there were better people there and sometimes, if there was better food there. He looked at a child eating an ice-cream and gave him a murderous look (who immediately returned the favor). His work required him to move around the town looking for scraps of metal. He loved the job. It gave him the opportunity to explore. He would often go upto thakur’s house and marvel at it’s white beauty for hours before the suspicious guards turned him away.

He chose a different path that day and went to the residential colony area. The houses looked same here, all arranged in a neat row of blocks. He went through various houses noticing the big cars people had kept and their beautiful gardens. He acknowledged Babu, the gardener who he knew from the village. He was walking by one of the houses when he saw her. His eyes popped out, his tongue hung open and he remained rooted to the spot. He must be imagining. Was this some Goddess in disguise? She should be in her early 20’s, he calculated. She was wearing horn-rimmed glasses and had skin as white as snow. Her eyes were as big as an almond (though he hadn’t seen an almond in years and wasn’t sure if it had changed its size in these years). She must be a Goddess, he thought and what more; the Goddess was waving at him, calling him.

“Hello! You there! I am asking you. Come over here”

Should I go? Why is he asking questions? Questions are bad. He went there.

“Could you please help me with my luggage? I am having trouble carrying it in the house”

Till now he hadn’t noticed the 20-odd bags lying around her. Ofcourse she was having trouble. How could such a sweet fragile looking girl carry so many bags inside? Still, he kept staring.

“Not much of an Akshay Khanna (from Dil Chahta Hai) I expected. Don’t worry. I will pay you”

Pay. She was talking money here. He remembered Lakshmi and immediately felt guilty. And the girl must be her daughter’s age. But she was so pretty. What was he thinking about? He slapped himself within. But what the hell does she think he is? A coolie?

“Ofcourse madamji. I will help you”, he found himself saying.

Half an hour later, he was exhausted. The bags were heavier than he had expected. He put the last one on the floor. He was sweating profoundly. She was sitting on the sofa drinking some juice. She isn’t all that beautiful afterall, he thought. But she helped him with a glass of water and took a 20 rupee note out of her purse (which was stuffed with money, he noticed) and gave it to him. He thanked her and started to leave.

“Wait!”

She stood and gave him a new 50 rupee note. She was smiling at him. She is pretty, he added as a final thought and walked out of the house.

70 rupees! He had 70 bucks all to himself! His happiness knew no bounds. It was a week’s worth of pay. And all for just half an hour work. There was no need to work that day. He passed by an ice-cream shop. He could buy one, he thought but decided against it. He even looked longingly at the dairy, paneer was on his mind but he had better plans. He half walked and half hopped towards his home.

She was sitting outside the hut.

“You are early! You will have no food tonight”, she said with a tone of finality.

“Lakhi! Why are you always angry huh? Common go inside and wear your best saree. We are going to the mela”, he said happily.

She wasn’t very impressed though.

“Crap! First I don’t have any ‘best saree’ and second I won’t buy your bull-shit about mela. I know you better than you think”

“Offo! Come inside. Let me show you something”

Still suspicious she went with him and was amazed when he brought out new 70 rupees from his dhoti.

She hadn’t seen so much money together in a long time. After staring at the 50 rupee note for quite a while she said, “I hope you haven’t been stealing”

“You are just stupid as your mother”

Then he told her the story of the day conveniently avoiding the exact ‘description’ of the girl.

“God bless her”, she said.

“Now if your blessings are over shouldn’t we go to the mela?”

“Yes Yes. I will just get ready and come. You wash your dhoti too. You don’t want to go there looking like this”, she said excited.

The mela was the great carnival of town where people from far off villages came in thousands with their families and their extended families in buses full of people. They both couldn’t help but notice the huge crowd (not to mention the variety), the happy looks on their faces, the excited kids sticking to their mother in fear of getting lost. They saw the huge wheel rides and Murari with satisfaction saw the expression of fear on Lakshmi’s face (he wouldn’t have to take her there, he thought smugly). For a few hours they had forgotten all their worries.

They roamed about looking into various shops with expressions of wonder and awe. They decided to have ‘pav bhaji’ (today they could afford the luxury of two plates) and had softy after that. Rs 30 already spent, Murari calculated. Merrily they walked around the mela again when Lakshmi saw what she was looking for.

“Murari! Ae Murari! You promised to buy me payal. Remember?”

“When?”

“In the morning today. Buy me one na. Please”, she said making a childish face.

“Na na! I don’t have any money”, he retorted.

“Ok let’s atleast look at them once. I will not buy anything. I promise”

“Oho ok let’s go. I know you won’t let me live unless you get what you want. It won’t hurt just looking at them. But mind it! I am not going to buy you anything”

“Offo! Ok baba! Now come. Will you?”, and she pulled him towards the shop.

She tried a few of them. Murari couldn’t help but notice how much beating time had given her wife. Her legs looked like a badly shaped stone. Her ankles were cracking and skin had started to peel off from all the labor she did in homes. In all these years of marriage, why hadn’t he noticed these differences? Wasn’t it all his fault that he couldn’t bring any happiness to his wife in all these years? Couldn’t promise any in the future as well? Her neck, her hands were all bare. He, somehow had failed in his responsibilities as a husband. He bought her the payal…It was a cheap anklet but still, it made her look beautiful. That night, he later remembered that her wife wasn’t as bad looking as he had thought her to be.

They saved a little money for daal and completely exhausted, but exhilarated, they returned to their village. They had had the best time of their life in a long time. Absorbed in the daily chores, working for daily bread they had forgotten that they themselves had the will to make each other happy.

They chatted merrily for a few hours talking about all the things they had seen and experienced that day. Lakshmi showed off her new anklet and then very carefully kept it in the big box in the corner which was taking most of space in the hut. She came and sat next to Murari.

“You didn’t buy anything for yourself”, she said.

“Some other day”

“Thank you”, she said in all little English she could manage.

“Ha! That’s the last gift you get alright. Forget going to the mela for next 20 years”, he smiled.

“I don’t think I will live for 20 years Murari”

He remained silent. May be he wasn’t sure of his own fate 20 years later.

“Murari…”

“Hmm…?”

“Will we remain poor all our life?”

“Probably”

“Isn’t there any way we can become rich? No shortcuts? No lottery?”

“No”

“I am sorry Murari”

They were hunched in the corner of the room. He looked at her. Her forehead was creased and her eyes were wet.

“For what? Because you couldn’t cook me paneer?”, said Murari who had never seen Lakshmi cry.

“No! Because I couldn’t bear you a child…”

They both remained silent for long time just looking at each other. That night they couldn’t tell what looked more beautiful. The silence or the tears. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her that it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that they were poor, that they have had to look for little happiness like scavengers, that he didn’t need a child to look after him. Wanted to tell her that nothing mattered as long as they had each other. That all that he always wanted was to look at her face whenever he came back home. That nothing beats the roti she cooks for him. That nothing mattered to him more than the comfort of having her with him. But words weren’t needed that night. Wouldn’t she understand it all if he just…cried…and then in the silence of the night he did something he had never imagined he was capable of…he put a hand around her and cried, cried his heart out, not speaking a word but still saying everything, she understanding every sob and every tear.

Between those sobs, she said, “I am so selfish”

“No you are not”

“Oh yes I am! I bought payal for myself and forgot all about how you keep nagging me about paneer. We should have bought some right?”

“Some other day Lakshmi…Some other day”, he sighed…