GARLANDS!
AND GARLANDS!
(A
Story)
(Rendered
by the author from Marathi)
Somebody
put a garland round her neck. The theater came down with a din of applause.
Am
I awake or dreaming, Babli asked herself. The huge crowd, the blazing lights,
the speeches in her honour, the cheers, the flowers–was all this real or only a
dream? For a moment Babli could not believe her eyes. This was a. dream to be
sure....
She
had been in a sort of dream for many days. The very first picture in which she
had played the title role had become a thumping box-office success. An obscure
twenty-year old girl that she had been before, she had become a dazzling ‘star’
and the darling of the crowds overnight. Her fan mail had mounted up into huge
piles. Her picture broke all records, wherever it was shown. In this Bombay
theatre it had reached the Silver Jubilee week...Babli could not bring herself
to believe that all this was really happening...And now tonight she had been
invited to put in a personal appearance at the last show. She sat in a chair on
the stage surrounded by several important people, and listened to the sweet
eulogies showered on her by speaker after speaker...Somebody garlanded her. She
heard a roar of applause. This was the climax of her dream, and the next
instant the dream would end, she thought.
The
dream ended. But another–a dream in which she was awake–took its place...She
came down the stage and walked towards her Box, with the producer-director of
her picture on one side, and Rangnath, the financier on the other, hanging on
her words, murmuring congratulations, holding her hand, and a large crowd of
people following her. She stepped into her Box and sat on the sofa in between
the director and Rangnath. The loud buzz of a bell was heard. The noise of the
crowd subsided. Lights went out. Darkness and silence filled the theatre. The
big white frame of the screen was caught in the projector’s light. The show
started again. Babli saw herself on the screen–exquisitely made up and lavishly
draped. She stood against the tree, covered with flowering vines, on the bank
of a river. The air was filled with the music of birds and the ripples of the
river’s water. Resting her head on the tree she broke into a song. The tune
went straight to the hearts of the crowd. A thousand hands began to clap and
mark the beat of time...
Babli,
watching this from her seat in the Box, felt a shiver running through her
limbs. She was certainly dreaming, she thought....And even before the shiver of
her body had faded, the song ended. The lovely maiden in the picture picked up
the pitcher which lay at her feet. She went down to the river and plunged it
into the water...
Babli’s
mind went back over many days. She remembered an incident in her actual life
which had been exactly like this!...But that had happened years ago!...How
many? Three!...Just like the girl in the picture, she was one day plunging a
pitcher into the river. The only difference was that she was not singing for
joy but was holding back the tide of grief and despair in her heart. Her tears
mingled with the river’s water. She was tired of life. She could no longer live
honourably. People would call her a senseless girl seduced and disgraced by the
son of a money-lender. Her father would drive her out of his house. Even if he
did not, drudgery and abuse and even occasional beating would be her lot. What
was the use of living after all this? Why not take a plunge into the river and
end everything? She looked about. There was no one in sight. She put away the
pitcher, and tightened her clothes. “Forgive me, O God!” she said. The next
moment she would have dived into water...But she heard a voice. “Babli!” She
turned and looked. Pandit was running down towards her...
It
was this picture from her actual life which memory projected before Babli’s
eyes as she sat in the Box...
Rangnath
the money-lender’s son, was well-known in the village as a rogue and a scamp.
He had seduced several innocent girls. And yet Babli had fallen in love with
him. It was not a matter for surprise that Rangnath was drawn towards a young
and pretty girl like her. But people wondered how Babli thought of running
after him. “I’ll break your bones, you fool, if you keep company with that
scoundrel Rangnath,” her father had told her. Many other elders in the village
too had given her a warning. But she was struck with young love which never
listens to wise counsel. She wanted Rangnath. A desperate passion had seized
her. Rangnath could not give her any money. His miser-father kept a tight hold
on all property, and cash. But Rangnath knew how to spread a net of sweet words
and promises. She believed in him, and began to meet him secretly.
Pandit
Bhosle loved Babli and wanted to marry her. But Babli did not want to be the
wife of an ordinary man like a petty army officer’s son. What sort of a life
can Pandit offer me, she thought. Can he give me rich and costly clothes, or
ornaments or rides in cars? Serving as a soldier he will go from place to
place, get wounded and die in some battle, and leave me to bring up
half-a-dozen children on the petty pension which Government will give his
widow. That will be my lot if I married Pandit. Rangnath, on the contrary, will
fill my gay life with luxuries and pleasures. His old father will die some day,
and then Rangnath will inherit a big fortune. I shall be the happy wife of a
rich man...
So
Babli had jilted Pandit Bhosle, and stuck to Rangnath. She believed in his
promise to marry her, and she gave him all that a woman can give.
And
then before her very eyes Rangnath married another girl! When she met him after
his marriage she showered vile curses on him. But he laughed shamelessly. “Why
should you get angry with me? I fail to understand,” he said, “You were a fool
if you thought that I would marry you. You were my mistress, nothing more. And
if you still wish to be my mistress, I shall gladly keep you.”
She
had slapped him hard across the face.
Hearing
the quarrel her father had come out of the house.
“Your
daughter was my mistress,” Rangnath had told him. “Let her be my mistress even
now. She’ll be happy. And you too...” Babli’s father had asked him to get out.
Dragging Babli into the house he had given her a sound beating. “Leave my
house. You shameless slut,” he had said...
She
would have thrown herself into the river on that day if Pandit had not come and
stopped her. He had persuaded her to go with him. “I would have asked you to be
my wife,” he said, “But war has broken out, and 1 have received an order to go
away.”
“Why
did you bring me away from the river then?” she asked.
“Because
your life is precious.”
“Precious?”
she asked, “What value can my life have after all that has happened?”
“You’re
mistaken, Babli” Pandit corrected her. “One’s life never ceases to have value.
You are not an ordinary woman. You’re young and beautiful. These are rare
gifts.”
“Yes,
gifts which made a fool of me.”
“They
did, indeed. But they may help you repair the damage which your foolishness has
caused, and you may become great. I’ve an idea as to what you should do now. If
you like It...”
“I
shall like anything you say. You’ve saved my life. I shall let you shape it any
way you choose.”
Pandit
had taken her to Bombay and given her in charge of a friend who was in the film
line, before he himself left for the front. That was the last she had seen of
him. He had gone out of her life.
Luck
had come her way. Slowly but surely she marched from success to success. And at
last had come this crowning triumph. Tonight she should have been the happiest
woman on
earth...
But
she was not.
Watching
the picture from her seat in the Box, she remembered Pandit, and there was pain
in her heart. She would have been dead and finished if Pandit had not saved
her. Here she was, basking in success and glory, with garlands round her neck!
And she didn’t even know where the man who had given her a new life was! And
the most accursed pity of it was that Rangnath, the scoundrel who had once
disgraced her and almost sent her to her death, had returned into her life. He
was sitting next to her. She could not push him away.
The
producer-director of her present picture was in need of big finance for his
future plans. Rangnath’s father was dead, and he was now the master of a
fortune. He was prepared to invest any amount of money in pictures. His only
condition was that Babli should become his mistress. The producer was willing
to make her a partner in his business if she brought in Rangnath’s money.
Riches, fame, and glamour would be hers only for the asking. She would stand on
top of the world. Only she must say ‘Yes’ to Rangnath. Should she say it?
Should she...
The
lights went up, and Babli came out of her thoughts...The show was over. People
got up from their seats. Those who were near Babli’s Box lingered and stared at
her. The producer-director took one of her hands. Rangnath caught hold of the
other. She gave both of them a smile as she got up. There was an
unmistakable question in the eyes of both the men. ‘So, it’s settled?” She
almost said ‘Yes’ with her eyes. With the two of them she came out of the Box.
A
woman came up to her and put a garland round her neck. As she gave her a
bouquet she said, “I should have garlanded you on the stage when the ceremony
in your honour was held in the interval. But I did not have the courage to do
it. Forgive me.”
Babli
smiled. “May I know who you are?” she asked. “Your name?”
“My
name is not important” the woman said, “this is not my garland. It is from a
gentleman lying in the military hospital here. I work there as a nurse. He sent
me with the garland.”
“Who
is he? May I know his name?”
“Captain
Pandit Bhosle.”
“What!”
There was surprise and eagerness and joy in Babli’s voice. “Is he here in
Bombay?”
“Yes!
He has been in our hospital for a month.”
“Can
I come and see him?”
“Of
course, you can. Why not?”
“Can
I come with you now?”
The
nurse could not help being amused at Babli’s impatience. She smiled. “It’s too
late in the night now.”
“Then
can I come tomorrow morning?”
“Sure,
you can.”
“Will
you kindly give me his address?”
The
nurse scribbled a line on a piece of paper and handed it to her.
Babli
lay awake in her bed all through the night. She no longer remembered the
ceremony in her honour–the crowd, the speeches or the flowers She forgot all
these things. They were not at all important. She was only counting the hours
and waiting for the night to end. She rose from her bed at the first glimmer of
dawn. She took a bath, and put on a clean simple dress. On the way to the
hospital she bought flowers.
She
got down from her car in the hospital porch. For a moment she could not decide
which part of the hospital to turn to, or where to make inquiries.
As
she was looking around, her eyes fell upon Pandit. A surge of happiness filled
her heart. But she also felt a shot of pain...Because she found Pandit sitting
in a wheel-chair on the lawn under a tree. He was reading a book. He was
resting one of his legs on the step of the chair. When she looked at his other
leg, she winced. It was a wooden leg!
She
ran towards him, calling his name and waving her little handkerchief in the
sun. When he looked up at her, he seemed to be surprised, although he smiled.
‘Babli!’ There was a slight disbelief in his voice. She went up to him and
placed the flowers at his feet. ‘Pandit!’ she whispered.
“I
didn’t expect that you would come,” he said, smiling.
“And
had I expected you to send me a garland?” she returned his smile and took both
his hands. “Pandit, you remembered me?”
“Babli,
how can I ever forget you?”
He
thought that she was staring at his wooden leg. His face became clouded and
sad. Babli did not fail to notice the change. “Pandit!” she said, “Last time
you left me and went away. You mustn’t leave me now. Will you have to go to the
front again?”
“No.
What use have they for a man like me?” he looked at his wooden leg, but now
there was a smile on his face. “But the hospital people will soon give me my
discharge. And then I shall go away to my native place.”
“You
mustn’t go alone,” she said. “You must take me with you. We’ll go together to
offer worship to the Goddess of our place. We’ll ask your father to bless us.”
He
pointed a finger at his wooden leg. “You don’t mind?”
She
shook her head and swallowed a lump in her throat. She bent down and looked
into his eyes. He smiled as though to say that he understood her.
“It’s
so quiet here” she said quite irrelevantly.
“Yes.
Very quiet” he said and broke into a laughter, which too was irrelevant.