People in distress never think that you feel enough.
--Dr. Samuel Johnson--

Short Story:

Distress
By Pritpal Singh Bindra [bindra@rogers.com]
[www.bindra.net]
(Please do refer to the special offer by the author at the end)
Distress

The peon opened the door, and let Bhupinder Singh enter the office. He saw
her sitting behind the large desk. The tables of the office superintendents'
were normally cluttered with files; Bhupinder had seen at various places,
but, unusually, her desk was devoid of any unnecessary papers. His would-be
boss must be very proficient, he thought. He looked around but there was no
one else there.
"Please, May I see the Superintendent?" he asked.
"Well?"
"I want to report myself on duty to HIM. I have been selected for the post
of Deputy Superintendent by the Services Selection Board."

She smiled. It was hard for a male chauvinist to digest that a female could
run an office too. Even her rise to that position had not been all smooth
sailing. She had just passed her examination for the degree of Bachelor of
Science, when she faced the calamity of her parents death; they were
involved in a road accident. Her father was a Forest Officer. He was on a
tour of duty round the hills to mark the trees. As the tour was going to
last for a fortnight, he had taken his wife with him. The driver of the
Jeep, in trying to save a collision with an on coming bus, swerved towards
the valley. Within a second the Jeep was a thousand feet down in the gorge.
The driver and her mother died instantly.

Her father was barely breathing when he was brought to P.G.I. Hospital in
Chandigarh. He could only manage to survive till he took two solemn promises
from his daughter. Her younger sister was only eleven, and he made her to
swear that she would look after the kid sister just like parents, and would
not deprive her of education or any other needs. On compassionate grounds
she was offered a job of a clerk in the Forest Office at Chandigarh. She
could not refuse; she had to run the household now. She was brilliant. She
cleared the departmental examination, and within one year she was Upper
Division Clerk. Her next promotion, as one of the Deputy Superintendents,
was not difficult either. She was on the top of the Seniority List when the
Superintendent was nearing his retirement. The male dominated office clique
manipulated the whole set up, and she was flabbergasted to learn that there
was no chance of her getting the job. She wrote numerous letters to the
higher authorities, but to no avail. But luck was in her favour. The
Ministry changed, and the new Minister appointed to take over the Forest
Department was a woman. Daring as she was, she, straight way, barged into
the Minister's residence, and narrated her story. Not only did she get the
job, she became a very close friend of the Minister. The retiring
Superintendent had refused to vacate the three bedroom Government bungalow
on the basis that his sons were studying in the University there. One call
from the Ministry, and he was gone.

The woman behind the desk asked, "So you think that a woman cannot be a...."

He was quick to realize his mistake. "I am sorry Madam... I... I... No body
told me.... The name plate on the door said `R.K.Singh'," and he advanced
his hand to give over an envelope containing the letter of appointment.
"I am R.K.Singh, Roopinder Kaur Singh. My husband, emphatically, prohibited
the use of Caste as surname, and pressed me to use Singh after my name;
Singh, the lion, as you know, designated to all male Sikhs as their
surname."

She pushed back the envelope, took out a file from the tray, and said,
"Don't worry, I already have a copy here. Have a seat."

He obeyed.

She had read through his file in the morning. He was a brilliant man.
Immediately after getting his B.A. in Commerce he had entered the
competition, and landed himself a job as Upper Division Clerk. Within six
months he cleared two other departmental examinations, and, here, he was
reporting as Deputy Superintendent.

She glanved at the framed photograph of her family placed at the edge of the
table. `That little girl in the picture, Rani, my kid sister,' she thought,
`was not less intelligent either; she had first class first in her B.Sc.
Silly girl, I wanted her to continue in the University, may be up to Ph.D.
but she did not want to be a burden on her older sister for too long....
Whatever she may say I am going to find a man for her as soon as she
completes her teacher's training.'

Rani was studying for her B.Ed. in Sidhwan Teachers' Training College.
Normally parents had to `donate' thousands of Rupees to get their children
into professional institutions the Minister of Forests' one telephone call
had secured a seat for Roop's sister without any payment.

She again prowled through a couple of pages. `Five foot eleven, not a bad
height,' she again rolled into the mental soliloquy, `but my sister is not
short either, she is not under five foot eight. They might make a striking
couple.'

Bhupinder had his eyes on the floor; probably he was repenting on his
misjudgment. She observed his face minutely, `His complexion is a bit dark,
well, never mind, Rani is not as fair as I am anyway.'

Bhupinder looked up. He felt embarrassed by her constant stare. He assumed
that she might have asked him something, and said, "Yes Madam?"

"Oh, no, nothing. I am sorry, my mind has flown far away." She was
desperately looking for a match for her sister. She wanted to arrange her
marriage, or at least betrothal as soon as she was out of training college.
Whenever she came across a worthy young man, she would start reflecting on
the possibility of a life companion for her sister.

She hit the bell to call the peon, "I am going to introduce you to the
senior clerk. He will acquaint you with the office routine, lead you to your
office, and hand over your working files." The peon appeared. She asked him
to go and call Ram Lal, the senior clerk, and again said to Bhupinder,
"Remember, don't be subdued by this man. He is an old hand and may try to
over power you. Mind you, you are his superior." She read through another
page and added, "Don't hesitate to introduce the new practices and ideas you
have expressed in your resume."

And within four weeks Bhupinder earned the nickname of Mr.Idea, from his
superiors, in appreciation, but spoken with a sarcastic tone from the
subordinates.

Roop had seen him a few times either going in or coming out of the Kapil
Hotel. She wondered whether he lived there or was just fond of hotel food.
One day she asked him where was he staying in Chandigarh.

"Still in Kapil Hotel. I can't seem to find any suitable rooms. All I can
get is a single room and that too without many amenities," he told his boss.
Her eyes sparkled spontaneously, "I am sorry to hear this. Perhaps I may be
able to help you. See me before you leave the office this evening."

The government bungalow rented to her was quite spacious. Out of the three
bedrooms only one was occupied by her sister, and that too was lying unused
right now as she was staying in the Hostel at Sidhwan. Since the parting of
her husband Roop had installed a bed and a dresser for herself in the vast
rec room along with the sofa set, a T.V., and one small office table. As it
was next to the kitchen, she felt this arrangement most convenient.

"You can take the master bedroom if you like," she said after taking him
around to the house in the evening.

"I am flattered," reluctance was visible on his face, "but I cannot accept
charity." He knew she could not sublet.

"How can I charge you rent? Under government regulations I cannot let any
part of the property. But who lives here, is none of the authorities'
business," she told him.

She contemplated for a few minutes, "Well fair enough, you can pay half the
bills, and half the maid's and washer-woman's wages too." The maid attended
to the cooking and cleaning from Monday to Saturday, whereas the
washer-woman came on Sundays only.

His excuse would not work. He had no choice except to express his real
apprehension, "But Madam...."

She cut in, "I am not in the office. Please, no `Madam'," she nearly
shouted.

"O.K. then Di...."
"No Didi either. I am the big sister of only one person in the world, that
is Rani. You just call me Roop."
"Roop Ji...."
"Well I don't mind `Ji'."

"Roop Ji, I am scared. Two persons of the opposite sex, with no relation and
not far apart in ages, living under one roof- your neighbours, people will
talk."

"I have had enough of people talking. Had I listened to the gossips I would
have been on the road by now, and, my sister, she would have been rotting in
some unscrupulous in-law's house."

That same evening Bhupinder Singh was settling down in his bedroom in Roop
Ji's bungalow. For working more than two hours, cleaning and settling the
room, he felt very warm. He took his shirt off, threw himself on the bed and
dozed off.

The bell rang, and Roop went to open the door; the maid had come back after
getting the chapattis made at a tandoor, the clay oven. The master bedroom's
door was ajar. Roop, unintentionally, peeped in. He was lying spread eagle
on the bed in his underwear. She felt embarrassed, and jumped into her own
room after letting the maid in. She had never seen her own husband even in
such a state.

Her husband had fixed one Saturday of the month for `temporal cohabitation'
with his wife, as he used to call sex. Even on that day he never took his
Kurta, the loose shirt, off. One winter, during the early days of her
married life, the night was very cold. Although, it was not the scheduled
day, she jumped into her husband's bed and snuggled under his quilt. He was
half asleep, probably having had a very tiring day. Unusually, he did not
repel her. She slipped her figure through his beard. He hoo-hooned but no
reaction. Very gently she opened the buttons of his Kurta, and combed
through his thick chest hair.

"Roop, please no," he just moaned.

After a few minutes' wait, she slid her fingers very slowly downward, passed
over the belly-button, and tried to push her hand under the tight string
holding his breeches. He jumped out of the bed as if a scorpion had bitten
him.

"Restrain yourself, Roop. Four weeks are not over yet," he shouted, and
started to deliver his standard discourse on chastity; man suffered pain
with excessive revelries, he entailed diseases with sexual pleasures, and
the pain which pleasure caused could never be obliterated.
She felt remorse and moved over to her own bed.

The maid's call roused her, "Bibi Ji, dinner is on the table."

Roop would not dare to go near the master bedroom's door, so, at the top of
her voice, called, "Bhupinder Singh, please come to the table. Dinner is
ready."

Sunday morning she was still in her bed when the washer-woman barged in her
room. She was laughing her head off.

Roop grabbed her from her shoulders, jerked her violently, and asked, "Come
on, tell me, what's so funny?"

"That man...." She bent down holding her stomach; excessive laughing was
giving her cramps, "That man, he... he is under the shower in the bath
room."

"But why are you laughing?"
"He... he is all naked."
"So what. Why did you go in there? Go and finish the job in the court-yard
first."

She was right, Roop thought, it was indeed unusual. Roop herself had never
seen her husband taking a bath. He rigorously adhered to the letter and
spirit of the tenets of his religious baptism; after the baths he would wrap
`round a big towel, take one leg out of the wet breeches, slip one side of
the dry breeches on that leg first, and then repeat with the other leg. He
used to assert that it was irreligious to be, entirely, out of breeches.

That whole night, and all the nights during next couple of months, she could
not help ruminating on what had been transpiring; the thought of him
sleeping next door almost naked, and then having a shower in the morning
with nothing on. Sometimes she enjoyed and amused herself, and sometimes she
felt exasperation. During the day, in the office too, when he came to see
her, she could not help her eyes penetrating his clothes.

New Year's Eve was the next Saturday. She had invited a few of his
colleagues to lunch, along with their wives. She had been following this
routine as set by her predecessor. The predecessor had started this with a
view of cashing in the gifts but Roop had positively banned such practice.
If an official brought any gift, she would turn him out to go home to leave
it there.

Although her sister used to organise the party, Roop did not miss her
presence this year; Bhupinder had taken full responsibility. Rather he had
done the job much more lavishly; chicken tikkas, mutton, fish and lentil
curries, two vegetables, Nans, and at the end two desserts followed by
ice-cream and cappuccino. Roop, herself, was overwhelmed. She would not
accept his `no' for an answer, and he had to accept reimbursement for every
penny he had spent.

The maid left at six as she was to go to the Church for Mass with her
family; she was a Christian. Roop and Bhupinder had to clear the table, and
clean all the dishes. It was nearly eight in the evening when everything was
normal in the house and the kitchen. Bhupinder relaxed for about half an
hour, then, he got up, and dressed himself.

"Going somewhere?" Roop asked when she saw him dressed up nicely.
"I feel like going out this evening."
"I suppose you have got someone to go to in Chandigarh now?"
"No, not really. I'll just go and relax in the Kapil's Restaurant. I... I...
feel like...." He hesitated.
"Feel like, what?"
"Roop Ji, I hope you won't mind. I am neither an alcoholic nor a drunkard. I
just feel like having a drink, just one or two beers."

She laughed loudly, "Why should I mind? My father used to drink. Our house
was always full of various types of drinks; father's clients were very
generous in offering him presents to get his consent to cut a tree or two.
He confined himself to one or two drinks in the evening but used to
distribute bottles among his staff and near relatives. You go ahead. I
couldn't care less.... I don't mind if you bring it home."

"Really? As a matter of fact I won't feel relaxed in the restaurant, all
cooped up in one chair in the corner all by myself."
"Well, as I told you, I have no objection. You may buy some, and come back
home if you like."

He looked at his watch. He reckoned that the beer store would still be open,
and he walked out.
Later, she heard the sound of a scooter. Quietly, he opened the door, picked
up a glass from the kitchen table, and tiptoed towards his room.

"Bhupinder," she said aloud turning her head towards the passage, "why don't
you come, watch T.V. with me. Nice programmes are broadcast today."
"But...."
"I told you, I don't mind. You can bring your beer and glass here."

He settled down on the office chair in the lounge with his glass and beer
bottle on the table. They had been watching T.V. for about half hour. In the
mean time he had gone to his bedroom, and fetched remaining two litre
bottles of beer as well.

She broke the ice, "Really beer does not smell so bad. In spite of a number
of good whisky bottles at home, my father liked to have the Roorie Brand,
the home distilled. He relished it but it smelled awful, just like
methylated spirit."

"The smell of alcohol is just like garlic or onions. If every body has
eaten, no one feels it. But if only one person has enjoyed, the others feel
revolted."

"You mean if I have beer I won't smell you."
With a cunning smile he said, "Well, you can experiment."
"I'll get drunk. I may start behaving funny, may become rude as my father
used to."

"No, not with beer, at least. Alcohol does not make one drunk. It only
brings out one's hidden feelings, and sometimes evil thoughts." Amused and
sarcastic, he againasked, "Do you want to try some?"

She considered this as a challenge, picked up the empty glass from her
bedside table and handed it over to him, "Well, I'll see what it does to
me."

He filled the glass more than three-quarters, asked, "Are you sure?" and
handed it over to her.

After taking a couple of sips, she said, "Not a bad taste." She put the
glass again to her lips, and started to gulp.

"Not so quick," by the time he finished the sentence she had emptied the
glass.
"Anything a man can do, a woman can; I have been proving this throughout my
life."
He had no comment.
She saw him moving his body left and right, and scratching his back with the
chair.
"What's the matter, Bhupinder? Anything wrong with your back? The other day
I saw you taking your coat off, and scratching your back with the corner of
the wall."

He felt embarrassed, "During my stay in the college hostel, for more than
four years, we, all the student who were good in athletics, used to go for
Indian style wrestling on Sunday mornings. The wrestlers besmear their
bodies lavishly with mustard oil. We rubbed each others' backs. At my
previous place, at Bhakhra, our peon did render me this service a few
times."
"You need some help now?" she said, and got up.
"No, please no," but she started scratching his back over the shirt. He did
not mind. Rather, he liked it.

"I have dry skin and if I do not oil it, it starts itching. That's why I use
baby oil very regularly but unfortunately I cannot reach my back."

Without letting him know, she picked up the bottle of baby oil from the
dresser behind her, and poured it on to her palm. She pulled out his shirt
from the trousers abruptly, and began to massage his back, using the palms
of her hands.

"What are you doing?" he turned his head to look.
"Didn't you want some baby oil on your skin?"
"Please Roop Ji, you shouldn't be doing this."
"Why? Because I am your boss in the office? Just forget it, and stay still."

During her childhood, she had seen her mother acting the same way with her
father; she, often, went into the bathroom, and rubbed and soaped his back.
A few times she noticed her mother's hands slipping under father's armpits,
grabbing his breast nipples, and squeezing them. Father seemed to have
enjoyed it.

Once Roop wanted to try this herself with her husband. A few days after her
marriage, she sneaked into the bathroom behind him, but she was brutally
rebuffed.

Inadvertently Roop's hands slipped in a similar manner, now, and went over
Bhupinder's breasts. He jerked, "Roop... Roop... Roop Ji, please stop."
"Oh, I'm sorry. My hands just slipped."

Her hands slithered on his back from the top to the bottom. Gliding over the
sensual zones, they were producing an almost hypnotic mood. He felt
tantalized. His eyes were closed. He held the edges of chair-arms very
tightly, and clutched his lower lip firmly in his teeth.

After a few minutes her hands again slid through, and went right down his
belly-button.

He shot up. They grabbed each other, and fell on the bed. They became
erratic, tearing off their clothes, and bodies too.

He slept late but she was up early. `Oh, God, what a mess,' she thought
looking at the state of the room and the empty beer bottles, `Good thing the
Dhoban was not coming today.' The washer-woman normally came very early on
Sunday mornings, but, being the New Year, she had taken the day off. Roop
got up, and, deeply absorbed in last night's episode, cleared the room. By
the time her work was finished she had fully resolved the situation in her
mind.

When she heard movement in Bhupinder's room, she prepared tea. Holding two
cups in her hands, and standing in the hallway, she announced, "Bhupinder, I
have got some tea for us. Do you want it there?"

"No, no, please no. I am coming out. Please leave mine on the table."

She smiled at his response riddled with nervousness, and put the tea on the
dining table.

He could not look at her face. With eyes dug on the cup he sat down in the
chair. "I... I am very sorry for the last night. It's my fault.... I should
have not...."

"What should you have not? What happened last night?"
"Please, please Roop Ji don't pretend," he looked into her eyes, "as if you
don't know anything?"

"I know but I don't care. When two young hearts come so close under one
roof, it does happen. What ever happened has happened.... Don't you remember
what day today is?" She got up, leapt behind the kitchen door, picked up a
small gift pack, said, "Happy New Year," and handed it over to him.
Visibly strained, he took the packet and stuttered, "But... but.... Sorry,
Happy New Year," he forced the words out. He got up and went into his own
room. Roop was still confused when he came back holding a small gift-wrap.
"Happy New Year to you, too," and gave her the packet.

She quickly tore off the paper. It was a colourful silk scarf. She unfolded
and placed it round her neck, "Thank you very much.... Aren't you going to
open that?"

"Oh, I am sorry," he tore off the wrapper, "What a beautiful tie. Thank you,
thank you very much."
"Would you like more tea?"
"Yes, I don't mind.... Roop Ji...."
"Please cut out this `Ji'. It is too formal."
"What's the matter Roop. You are behaving as if nothing happened last night.
We are miles apart. We should not have."
"Yes, I know what you mean, miles apart, I am nine years older than you. I
am practically a divorcee and you, still a bachelor. There can be no
compromise, I fully realize that."
"I... I didn't mean...."

"It was a spontaneous reaction, just physical. Both your body and soul,
belong to someone else. I could never imagine entrapping you in any long
term or life long involvement.... Last night, first time in my life, I
realized, I have been nothing more than a virgin, maybe not physically.
First time I saw that boy, Sukhi, I liked him. My parents had taken us to
Delhi to meet his family. I had just completed my Matriculation, and he was
in the final year of his B.Com. He was tall, slim, and handsomely dressed
up. He had his beard very elegantly tucked up and Fixered neatly. With a
nicely tied turban he looked like a prince. When my parents asked me about
my engagement with him, I blushed, and nodded my head affirmatively. Our
parents were very close friends since their teen days. As soon as I
graduated from the university, my father fixed the marriage date. It was my
father's dying wish that I must adhere to that mahoorat, the auspicious day.
We decided to have a very simple marriage ceremony in the temple. When he
came to Chandigarh with his parents for this purpose, he looked like a
fundamentalist militant; his unfastened beard flared all over his chest, a
yellow turban rounded high up above his head, and he wore a kurta, and a
pair of tight pyjamas spiralling below his knees. I wouldn't mind his
political affiliation, there have been a few political, economical, and
cultural lapses in Punjab, the Federal Government's neglects were
unpardonable, but fundamentalism and militancy were no answer to those.
I wanted to run away but could not; my father's dying words kept resounding
in my ears. Sukhi was thrown out of his job at Delhi. He took some odd jobs
here in Chandigarh but was never settled. He tried to dictate his orthodox
etiquette to my sister and me; we could not wear certain clothes, and most
social activities were banned. I had three years of hell with him. The
Government quarter we used to live in, was allotted to me. I had enough of
him, and one day I told him to get out of my house, and our life. He just
abandoned his job and vanished into thin air; last I heard, he was somewhere
in America. You came along, you intruded into the chastity of my bedroom,
and you encroached on the virginity of my bathroom...."

"What do you mean by that?"
"Your sleeping half naked in my erstwhile bedroom, your having a bath all
naked in my bathroom, and now this scratching of your back kindled my
sleeping desires. I couldn't help myself."

"Do you want me to leave?"
"No, no, please no. Can't we live like normal human beings, serving each
other's needs, without any strings attached?"
"Morally...."
"Oh, come off it.... Well, forget it now," she said jerking her hand in the
air, "One thing, I am sorry for the abrupt finale last night." Even though
she felt anaesthetised, she had not lost the sense of hazardous
consequences; just when he was reaching the climax she had pushed him away.
He was nonplussed, "I am going for my bath," and he got up. After taking the
towel and bag containing his bathing needs, he entered the bathroom.
She followed him briskly, "You had too much oil on your back last night. Do
you want me to soap you?" Without waiting for his reply, she dropped her
gown outside, she had nothing on underneath, and jumped into the room. They
were there for a long time.

They lived as normal a life as before New Year's Eve, except, however,
certain Sunday nights when they watched Hindi Movies on T.V. either from the
sofa or the bed.

As usual, the State Republic Day Parade was to be held in the Cricket Ground
of Chandigarh. The arrangements for the erection of the rostrum, and the
designation and cordoning of enclaves for various sections for dignitaries,
were assigned to the Forest Department this year. A day before the occasion
the Minister herself came to check the preparations. Roop was there to
supervise the operation. Bhupinder was directing the work.

"Isn't that the same man?" Minister asked Roop pointing towards Bhupinder.
"Same? He is Bhupinder, my new Deputy."
"How is it going? Have you talked to him yet?"
"Talked! Talked what Bhain Ji?" Whereas everybody addressed the Minister as
`Madam', on the Minister's own preference, Roop called her, `My Dear
Sister'.
"What? You don't know?"
"Know what?" Roop was puzzled.
"I think our previous Secretary, Puran Singh, forgot to talk to you. He was
in a hurry to go to Delhi on his new promotional appointment."
"Please tell me what it is?"
"You remember when you came to me for the admission of Rani in the Sidhwan
College, you expressed your apprehension of finding a suitable match for
her?"
"Yes."

"Puran Singh was there too. He was well-aware of your family circumstances.
When the final list of the appointees, for the job of Deputy Superintendent,
came to my office for my approval, this man, Bhupinder, impressed Puran
Singh most, and he talked to me. I ordered his assignment to your office. We
thought perhaps you might like him for your sister."

Oh God, what luck, she weighed the situation for a few minutes, and said,
"That really is surprising. Bhain Ji, it is really very kind of you. As a
matter of fact he is staying in my house. Single persons are not normally
considered for government quarters, and he was facing difficulty in finding
a suitable place in the city."

"Is that so? That's better. But you didn't know why, particularly, he was
sent to work with you? This means you have not talked to him, not even a
hint?"
"I am sorry, no."
"Right, don't mention anything to him now. He may think that we all have
been plotting deliberately. Let Rani come back home, give them an
opportunity to meet and know each other."

That is what Roop had herself envisaged.
The Minister continued, "I'll, then, think how to proceed. Leave
everything to me. You may feel shy asking him."
`Shy me, with him, no...' she introspected, `Well, it would be best if it
comes through the Minister.'

Rani was back home in April. Roop had written to her about Bhupinder living
in the house, and had showered him with praises. On meeting him, Rani, too,
was impressed with his polite eloquence, and sophisticated behaviour. She
was bored at home; most of her friends either had married off or left
Chandigarh. She found his company appealing, and did not mind going out with
him. Steadily Roop had, intentionally, drifted away from Bhupinder, and was
happy to see their acquaintance growing into an affectionate friendship.
Nearly a month had passed. Rani's result was declared. She had attained
distinction both in Theory and in Teaching Practice. She had not once
mentioned applying for a job, or meeting the Minister for a recommendation,
whereas previously she had expressed her desire to take employment
immediately upon her graduation. Not that Roop needed Rani's financial help,
but she was surprised at her changed attitude. `Perhaps something is cooking
between her and Bhupinder,' she deliberated a few times, yet felt relieved.
And something had been cooking. Both were sitting side by side at the dinner
table holding hands, when Roop walked in.

"Roop Ji, we want to talk to you," Bhupinder said.
She looked at their hands tied together, "I hope something pleasant?"
Rani opened her mouth, "We want to ...."
But she was interrupted by Roop, "get engaged. How desperately I have been
waiting to hear this."
"No," Bhupinder broke in.
"Noooo?" Roop nearly fainted.
"Not engaged, we are getting married."
"You naughty people. You nearly gave me a heart attack. So you don't want to
waste money on an engagement ceremony?"
"It's not that. We have made an appointment at the Registrar of Marriages
for next week Monday."
"Registrar? Monday? What is going on? Please don't confuse me." She put her
hand to her head.

Rani got up and helped her to a chair, "Didi Ji, please relax. We will never
hurt your feelings. You will be pleased to hear what we have to tell you."

"Roop Ji, my family, parents and my older brother live in Burma," Bhupinder
started to say.
"Burma! Why didn't you tell us before? There was nothing in your resume
either."
"I'll explain in a minutes. As I was saying, my family lives in Burma, and
they are very well off."
"Just well off?" Rani interrupted, "We had enough of your camouflaging."
Diverting attention to her sister she added, "Didi, he is one of the Batras
of Burma."
"You mean world famous multi-million Batra Electronics Conglomerate of
Lashio? Why did you disguise your identity? Why did you take up this, I
would say paltry, job? Why did you try to cheat us, even every body in
India?"
"No, Didi, please listen to him first. He really didn't mean to cheat
anybody." Rani had already heard the whole story.

Bhupinder started to explain, "About six years ago my older brother came to
India to get married to a nice girl here. He published his intentions in the
matrimonial columns of a few prestigious dailies. He wanted a quick
marriage, and gave full details of his background. He had a number of offers
but he was impressed with the beauty and intelligence of one girl named
Sita. Her parents were in the electronics business too. It was a quick
marriage, and he was back home with his bride within four weeks. Within six
months the cat was fully out of the bag. Sita never loved my brother, and
showed little respect to our parents. On top of that, her father and
brothers started to visit Burma with the intention of sharing in our
business ventures. She was creating hell for my brother. He had no
alternative but to give her a fair amount of money, and get her out of our
family. I did not want the same story to happen with me. I wanted a girl who
loved me and my family, not our money. On my Uncle's suggestion I started to
follow his plans."

Rani intruded, "Look at his meanness, Didi, for four months we have been
going out, he has been making me to spend my money everywhere, in the
restaurants, cinemas, and sometimes even on petrol for his scooter. He
always maintained that he was very much pressed by his poor parents in the
village; he had two marriageable sisters. The more he did that the more I
liked him... you big talker!"

Roop felt bamboozled, "Now, how can you be sure? We may be cheating you."
He stared into Roop's eyes, "Could it be?" Realizing the ambiguity of his
words, he added, "Sometimes one has to rely on faith."

Roop wanted further clarification, "After leaving the university you
attended so many interviews, took a number of departmental examinations. How
come no body suspected your real credentials?"

"It was all the clever handiwork of my uncle. First, he got me clerical job
at Bhakhra. Realizing that as a clerk I wouldn't get a qualified girl, he
fixed up a few departmental examinations for me. The last one was his
cleverest feat. At night he took me to a high official's house, I did not
get his name even. There he gave me the question paper and answer sheets. We
sat down together, and completed the test. The gentleman marked them,
assigned a roll number, and slipped them in the middle of the pile. All my
paper work--resumes, testimonials, was always my uncle's brainchild. When I
told him, before he left for Delhi, that I had found accommodation in your
house, he was overwhelmed. Just four weeks ago, when he came to Chandigarh
on official business he asked me, how was it going, had I met the girl, did
I like her, etc. I was getting confused. I asked him why was he talking in
riddles. He then told me why he had put in an extra effort to get me to work
under you. He had met you both in the Office of the Forests Minister; you
had gone there in connection with Rani's admission. My uncle wanted to
present me to you, indirectly, for your sister."

"You are not talking about Puran Singh? Is he the one you are calling
uncle?" Roop was blunt.
"You are right, Chief Secretary, Forests Department."

"Why the hell did he cheat us all?" Roop said. She felt unduly humiliated.
Bhupinder pleaded, "But, Roop Ji, if you think rationally, it has been quite
pleasurable. Rani is happy. She accepted me when I was just an office
worker, only as a decent human being, if she still thinks so," he looked at
Rani seeking her approval, "Till last week she did not know who I really
was."
"But still I'll talk to the Minister. Your uncle had no business to make a
fool of us all." Roop was still sore.

Rani interceded, "Oh, Didi, don't worry, we have already seen Minister Bhain
Ji. She was really amused. She has agreed to come to the Court. Actually, we
had gone to her to request she speak to you. We were scared of coming
directly to you. She persuaded us to talk to you ourselves. I am still
shaky."

"Why not have a proper wedding? What would our friends, relatives think? You
have not committed any crime, to need to get married like two runaways."

"No, that's not the reason. We are going to have a big wedding later on. My
family will be coming from Burma too. Maybe in about six months. I need a
Marriage Registration Certificate to apply for her Visa. The Burmese
Consulate, now, takes about a year to issue a visa for permanent residence."
"In the meantime...." Roop wanted to ask something.

But Bhupinder cut in, "I am sorry Roop Ji, I will have to leave your office
now. In view of the political uncertainty in Burma, my father wants to
invest money in India. Who knows, we all may have to leave that country one
day. I am going to establish an office in Delhi, but most of the time I will
be staying in Chandigarh; Delhi is too congested for me."

"But...." Roop still demanded to know a few more things from Bhupinder.
Getting up Bhupinder said, "There is nothing to `but' now Roop Ji. Rest
assured, everything will be O.K." and he looked deep into her eyes, "Anyway
I will see you, Madam, in your office when I come there tomorrow to tender
my resignation."

Bhupinder confirmed from the peon that nobody else was in the
Superintendent's office. He knocked on the door, waited for, "Come in",
entered the room, and, with a pretended sly grin put a sheet of paper on the
table, "Madam, under unavoidable family circumstances I have to leave my
job. Here is my resignation."

She was laughing, "What if I say, it cannot be accepted?"
He replied, "Then, Madam, would you allow me to carry on with the same job?"
He winked laying stress on the word `same'.

"You... you the...." But she tightened her lips suppressing the next word,
he was too nice a man to be a bastard, she reasoned. She hit the bell. "Take
this to Ram Lal," she handed over the paper to the peon when he appeared.
"Before I leave I want to...."

"Just a minute," she hit the bell again. "I don't want to be disturbed," she
told the peon.

"Roop, you remember the week in April, when Rani came back. That Saturday,
in the evening, when you reached home, first you told the maid that you
wanted to cook yourself in the happiness of your sister's home coming. You
gave the maid the evening off. But you did not cook. You went to the lounge,
and lay on the sofa, pretending to have headache."

"Well, what then? I just wanted to rest."
"But, you told us that the maid had taken the evening off, and you were not
in a state to cook. You asked us both to go out to eat, and to bring food
home for you later. Only then I realised your intentions, and understood why
you had, previously, told me a few absurd stories involving Sali and
Jeeja--a man and his wife's sister. What was that? Sali adhy ghar
wali--wife's sister is the husband's half the house-wife."

"I withdraw my judgment on your legitimacy, you really are a bastard;
snooping on other people's talk and thoughts."
"But you must appreciate, Madam, I am indeed a decent and honourable person,
see, I never touched you since that week in April."
"You...." She picked up a book to hit him.
Laughing, he got up quickly, "I'll see you at home this evening," and headed
towards the door, adding, "Your little sister is waiting for me. I left her
in Sector 17, for shopping."
The End

Any reader who writes about ten lines (150word) as a critique on this
fiction and sends it to the Author, will receive the Author's book, MUKLAWA
& OTHER STORIES, containing his 20 stories free of cost. This applies to his
first story published in this site as well. [bindra@rogers.com]