Likhari:story,fiction,kahani,salvation,ps bindra(4)

Chanda Singh was very happy. He was the most fortunate man in the world, he thought, husband of a `wife' fifteen years younger than he. Although, both lived under the same roof, he could not communicate with her as her husband. In spite of moral restrictions imposed on him, not to socialize with his `wife', he was very happy. He was, officially, Nasib Kaur's husband, and had become a man of a woman after a widowerhood of twenty years. So far he was concerned, his marriage was an open secret, and he was always excited to flaunt the fact among his friends.
His daughter-in-law, Paneeta had wanted this marriage to be kept as a secret. When the news of Chanda Singh's tattling reached her, she was disgusted with his obnoxious behaviour. But she could not prevent him, she was in a Catch-22. She had to keep a smiling face.
Paneeta had not liked her father-in-law, from the day she met him. He acted and talked arrogantly. He always bragged about his son's up bringing in India, and spending most of his wealth in sending him to a foreign land. He never acknowledged Paneeta's effort and sacrifice in making his son's stay in Canada possible.
Chanda Singh lost his wife when Saran, his son, was only ten years old. He loved his son immensely and decided to provide him with the best of everything in the world. To keep the son unscathed by the treatment of a step-mother, he never remarried. Even though Saran was brilliant, the father arranged private tuition for him up to the higher secondary. He wanted the son to be on the top of list in every school examination. When the son went to University, father's informers always shaded him to report on his progress. Young lads, he thought, could easily go astray in the debauchery of city life. He had to sell a big chunk of his land to raise money to carry Saran through the final years of his M.Sc. By then the political situation in the border District of Gurdaspur in the Punjab State of India, where they lived, was deteriorating. Increasing unemployment among Sikh youth, and the regional injustices in investment encouraged a separatists' movement. In this district, in particular the young boys became the targets of both the militants and police. The militants wanted to engage them in their cause, and the police tried to entrap them in false involvements and encounters to demonstrate their efficiency. Then came the assassination of the Prime-minister, Indira Gandhi, at the hands of her Sikh body-guards. The fury of vengeance resulted in the brutal and unwarranted killing of turbaned Sikhs, at the hands of Hindu mobs. This shook Chanda Singh's faith in India's democracy. He wanted his son to get out of this predicament and settle in a foreign land. Within four months, with the advice and efforts of a so-called immigration consultant, and his collaborating lawyer, Saran was on a flight bound for Toronto, Canada. It cost Chanda Singh over one hundred thousand rupees. To raise money he had to mortgage the rest of his land and property. Before Saran disembarked from the airplane, he had already torn his passport into small pieces and flushed it down the toilet. Conspicuously displaying the papers that showed his involvement in the separatists' movement, he pretended to be a victim of atrocities committed on him by the police. The Delhi Consultant had arranged faked photo-copies of the newspaper-clippings, and false police documents against him. When he was checked by the Immigration Officer at the airport, he claimed refugee status. He was herded into a van bound for the detention centre. He realized, then, that he was not the only one in that Jumbo 747 flight, there were nine more Punjabi Sikhs, as well, who had declared themselves refugees. Through the good offices of the Delhi Consultant, the community leaders in Toronto had already been warned, candidly, about the arrival of refugees. Due to generous efforts of the leaders in Toronto, all ten were out on bail within one week. Saran's intelligence and his eloquence in English won him a `work permit' on the very first hearing at the Refugee Board. His technical knowledge got him a job in a small manufacturing factory, and that is where he had met his future wife Paneeta. She headed the computer section there.
Paneeta was hardly ten years old when her father immigrated to Canada, at that time the immigration was open to skilled people. Her father was a qualified engineer. When her father died, he demanded a solemn promise from Paneeta that she would not marry a boy unless he was approved by her mother. Her mother's main concern was the caste and family back-ground of the boy, even though her older daughter in India was suffering at the hands of her parents-in-laws. At the time of the older daughter's marriage, the mother had very proudly vaunted the fact that her daughter was going into a high caste family with a lineage of great repute.
After about six months, Saran got a letter to appear before the Refugee Board. With the papers in his possession, he was very confident of getting permanent status. But the Government Attorney questioned the legitimacy of those documents. His case was not rejected but was referred to Royal Canadian Mounted Police for investigation. In the meantime he was let out on bail. Saran was dejected. He realized that his papers lacked authenticity and he would be deported.
When he related the story to Paneeta, to his surprise, she showed no apprehension.
"Don't worry. Everything will be all right," she said and invited him home to see her mother. Previously she had introduced a few boys to her mother, but they all fell below mother's expectation. Either they belonged to some inferior caste or had some defiled family background. The mother could not accept any one of them as Paneeta's future husband. But she was very much impressed with Saran's personality. She did not want this splendid opportunity to slip out of her hands and proposed that her daughter marry Saran immediately. Saran accepted readily, and with enthusiasm. The marriage was registered within a few weeks, and Saran was indisputably in Canada now.
After four years, when Chanda Singh arrived in Canada, his son was already working as an Engineer on the CP Rail, and they had moved into their own new four bedroom house, along with their little baby son. With a benighted attitude towards women, Chanda Singh did not try to comprehend how hard his daughter-in-law was working to raise the family. Saran normally left the house very early with just a cup of tea. Paneeta had to feed the boy, take him to the baby-sitter, and get to her office in time. On top of that, Chanda Singh expected her to prepare his breakfast and fix his lunch, as well, before she left. She tried to cope with the demands for about a couple of months. When she realized that her health was going to give in, under the strain, she talked to her husband. It developed into a bickering. Instead of consenting to cooperate, Chanda Singh suggested his daughter-in-law leave her job. But when the son disclosed to him their financial liabilities of mortgage, taxes, and utility bills, he softened. However, the cordiality between Chanda Singh and his daughter-in-law was destroyed.
Paneeta's disenchantment was enhanced when she received letters from her older sister in India. The sister detailed the distressing circumstances she was passing through. Paneeta wished her mother were still alive to respond to her sister's miseries. Panneta was already feeling herself in agony in the hands of her father-in-law. To attain solace she started visiting the Temple regularly. She was captivated with the polite recitations and expositions of a newly arrived priest from India. The priest had entered Canada on a visitor's visa. His visa had expired and to escape deportation he left Vancouver and came to Toronto. After a few months he was spotted by Immigration and ordered to leave the country. The priest cleverly trammelled a widow, got the court marriage registered, and escaped the deportation forever.
Disgusting, a priest indulging in such acts, Paneeta thought when she came to know of the fact.... Was it really contemptible? she contradicted herself, at least the priest managed to dupe the Canada Immigration.... Morality? who cares... if a priest can do it.... why can't...? and she continued with the contemplation till she heard the main door opening.
"Bapu Jee, is it you?" she asked. Her tone was very polite and affectionate. Previously she had seldom addressed Chanda Singh as `my dear father'.
Chanda Singh was taken aback. Let alone calling him `Bapu Jee' she had not talked to him for the last so many months.
"Yes, Beta, it's me." He was polite too. For family harmony he had decided to avoid direct confrontation with her.
"Chicken curry is nearly ready. Please tell me when you want to have dinner, I'll cook fresh chapattis for you."
Fresh chapattis for him? He was surprised. He had become used to eating dinners as cold as water.
From then on, he started getting the royal treatment. Nearly a year went by and Paneeta foresaw the memories of her rough treatment waning out of her father-in-law's mind.
"Bapu Jee, it has been long time. You must be craving to see your old friends in India.... It is time you went back to check how the people to whom you have leased the house and land are keeping up," Paneeta said one Sunday when they were having lunch together.
"Yes, I do want to go but I don't intend to be a burden on you. I'm planning a visit as soon as Social Security starts paying me. I'll apply for the same when my Canadian Citizenship is through. It's a matter of another eight or nine months."
"No Bapu Jee, we can afford it now," she paused for a few seconds and then added, "Moreover, my sister, in India, is in great trouble in the hands of her in-laws. Since her husband died four years ago, she has been pestered by the family to remarry her Jeth--her husband's older brother. They want her to stay in the family to protect the land and property. The wife of the Jeth died, as well, a few years ago. It was her Jeth who was instrumental in the death of her husband. He is greedy and ruthless, he wants full control of the land, its produce, and money. He treated his younger brother as an errand boy. When he fell ill, no medical help was sought except the local lay-doctor, and within four weeks the poor fellow breathed his last. Now her Jeth is misbehaving with her. I want her to get out of his clutches. I want her to come to Canada. You can help me to bring her here."
"But how can I bring her with me?"
"Quite simple and easy. It is just a matter of registering a marriage, quietly, nobody would even know. Once she is here, within a year or so, she will divorce and you both will be free."
So that was it, Chanda Singh deliberated in his mind, she could divorce him, well, he would see to that when he came back.
Paneeta's sister, Naseeb, was in Canada over eight months now. Not only was Paneeta saving on her son's baby-sitting expenses, she arranged for Naseeb to look after two more babies of neighbouring families. It gave Naseeb a reasonable tax free income to satisfy her personal needs.
Since Naseeb's arrival in Canada she faced a couple of situations which she did not like. One was her living in the unfinished basement in Paneeta's house. The skeleton ceiling and bare walls made her feel the same type of conditions in which she was forced to live in India after the death of her husband. Although Paneeta had asked Naseeb to keep a cheerful face, and to make breakfast and lunch for Chanda Singh, she perpetually reminded her to avoid direct collusion with him. He was a clever man and would try to take advantage of her innocence, Naseeb was always reprimanded. That was the reason, as soon as Chanda Singh appeared in the kitchen in the absence of Paneeta or Saran, Naseeb would leave the work halfway done, and run downstairs. And Paneeta had already envisaged the plans to teach Chanda Singh a lesson of a lifetime once the divorce was through.
"Naseeb Kaur I want to talk to you for a few minutes," Chanda Singh said entering the kitchen one afternoon. She wiped her hands and proceeded towards the basement door.
"Please Naseeb. Just for a few minutes. I am not a bad man and you know that. It is your sister who has been creating a monster out of me to scare you off."
"No, no she did not say anything."
"Please don't pretend. Within a couple of days of your arrival in Canada, you changed your attitude towards me. You know how cordial our communication was in New Delhi." They had gone to New Delhi for marriage registration to avoid gossip and interference from relatives in their home district. Moreover, for visa purposes they had to call at the Canadian High Commission there. Chanda Singh had arranged their stay in a family type reputable hotel. They had two separate rooms but spent lot of time talking late in the evening. They told each other their life stories to the minutest detail.
Chanda Singh sat down around the dining table comfortably and said, "I am a Canadian Citizen now. I have been here long enough to claim monetary help from the Government, Social Services Department. The India Rainbow Club will handle my case. I cannot apply as a single man because you are here, legally as my wife. If I tell them the truth, immigration would come to know that the marriage has not been consummated and they would deport you to India, or they may charge us both for fraud. If I apply as a married man, their Social Worker will definitely like to come to see us both in the house."
"I don't know. I am confused. Paneeta told me that after about a year we could separate legally, and then divorce. I will be free then."
"Well if you wish I will apply as a single person then."
"But, as you said, there could be some trouble."
"Yes, could be... but we can do this quietly. Saran and Paneeta won't even know. I can ask the Social Worker to come in the afternoon when they are not home, and the children will be sleeping, as well.... I don't want to cheat you. To a single person they pay only $800 but to both of us it will be $1,200 per month. I'll give you all your $400 share."
Four hundred dollars, more than one thousand rupees for doing nothing, Naseeb thought, "But if Paneeta came to know of this, she would pull my plait off, may chuck me out."
"Don't worry. Trust me. l'll take care of all that."
From then on, they were together, had breakfast and lunch together, and watched Hindi video movies in the family room when the children were asleep. Chanda Singh spent little time with his friends or at the Club.
"Why don't we get the basement apartment built?" Chanda Singh asked his son one day.
"Not yet, Bapu. Soon Paneeta will be out of her job. We cannot afford it at the present." Paneeta was expecting a second child in about six months.
"Don't worry about money. I have already talked to Jandu's son, he is in the building business. Not only he will build it very cheap, he has agreed to take $400 every month till full payment is made."
"But I can't manage to spare $400 every month."
"That will be my responsibility. I have already shown the place to him. He says that there is enough space for two bedrooms, one kitchen, a lounge, and a four-piece washroom."
"That will leave you only $400, hardly enough to live." Saran didn't know that his father was getting $1,200 instead of $800.
On a Saturday morning, a week before the work on the basement was to start, after Saran had gone to his Squash Club, Naseeb told her sister, "I am going to move upstairs."
"That's all right. Till the basement is complete you can move into Baby's room."
"No. I am going to move into the second room."
"You can't do that! Bapu sleeps there."
"He will stay there as well."
"W h a t ?" Now Paneeta understood why her sister had become so blunt lately, no more a timid village lady from India. "What are you saying?" she said on top her voice.
Chanda Singh, expecting this reaction, stood waiting at the foot of the stairs. He stepped into the kitchen, "Be calm and listen to us patiently, Paneeta, Beti."
"But this is totally preposterous."
"Beti, try to understand, she is my wife, the law says that, and she agrees, too," Chnada Singh said.
"But Bapu..." Paneeta nearly shouted.
"Please let me finish.... She moves in with me now and when the basement is complete, we will settle ourselves there, with separate cooking and independent living. If you don't want us here, in this house, we can go out today. I have already arranged place in Jandu's house, and from there we can rent an apartment. I am sure Social Services Department will help us with the rent." His expression was dynamic, "Don't forget we live in Canada."
Paneeta yelled at Naseeb, "If you want to saunter idly like that, go ahead, I couldn't careless, but don't blame me later on." She heard her son's cry up in the landing, half turned, she looked at Chanda Singh, "Your son will be happy any way, he never resented seriously your blabbing. You men are all the same," and she ran up the stairs to pacify her boy.
Chanda Singh and Naseeb looked at each other and smiled.
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]