HALF MOON
CHAPTER - 12
The day she got ready to hit the road with vigor for a new lease of life. A friend of hers called to ask when she was going to join her job in Delhi. She told him that it might be from the beginning of the next week. He asked her to postpone it for a fortnight as that was the day shraadh period was starting. Mehar, as she was born into a Sikh family and they generally do not practice this, would not observe shraadh. She told him so. He insisted. But as she had already committed herself, she had no choice but to follow her destiny. She told her parents about this. Her father said, “Say your prayers and embark on your path. God will be with you.”
That was what she did. She left her home in the charge of a young man named Rajbir Singh. Then she left her son in the custody of her doting parents and landed in Delhi at a friend's house to begin with, till the time she could arrange things in a way to be on her own in this city of dreams. Group Captain Varshee was a friend of her brother Hukum Singh and had graciously invited her to be her guest as long as she wanted. She was thankful for such mercies at this point of her life and she accepted this offer with gratitude. His wife, Rawi was a fun loving lady always full of laughter, no matter what.
Their two beautiful daughters took her as a family member immediately on her arrival. She shared the room with younger one Tapur, a highly energetic school going teenager, full of wonder about world around her. She was full of questions about life in general all the time. Mehar whatever little time she had at home, spent answering her queries and loved every moment of it. Tipur the elder one was much mature and quiet. Moreover she was soon to be married, going through a busy and whirlwind period of courtship. She spent her evenings invariably with her fiance of two years.
The very first Monday Mehar reported for work, there was a meeting to discuss about a new morning program which was commissioned to GITV for five days a week–the same Good Morning Country, for which she was assigned to do one story everyday. Like her a few other newcomers too were attending this meeting. It was a
heartening experience for all of them to see and listen to the stalwart of television news, Dr. Mehdiratta. He spoke about this new program at length, about his expectations from them, from the program and how he had envisaged it. All were ears with eager eyes, nodding from time to time.
Mehar found Dr. Mehdiratta to be a man with a no-nonsense air and an easy disposition about him. He addressed no one in particular, but his gaze would fall on each and every person in the room, so anyone with even a little indifference or disinterest could not go unnoticed. She could recognize some of the faces sitting in the room. She had worked with them while reporting for Pehchaan. This put her at ease. She knew she was going to be working with like-minded people. As this meeting come to a conclusion Dr. Mehdiratta said with a large smile,“So you guys, go out in the world, bring stories, bring footage, take whatever you need from here but never return empty handed. This is life.”
Mehar knew this was indeed life for her. She had left many things behind to begin a new chapter, or to be precise she had come to start afresh, to write from scratch on her slate of life. She has almost left everything behind. She had come to this city with two suitcases filled with her very personal belongings. She had come from being the mistress of her house to become a guest in a running household. This was a completely different experience for her. Rawi made every possible effort to make her as comfortable as she could and Mehar was indeed very comfortable. But many times when she would get up in the mornings, she would find it a little strange not to find herself in her own surroundings.
She knew this was a phase and soon it will pass. Moreover she had a pressing job to do. This was the week prior to the launch of GMC. There would be dry runs in the mornings. Like everyone else related to this program, she too was supposed to reach office by five in the morning. She would get up at four and would be ready by four thirty after her morning schedule and a quick shower. Luckily Varshee's house was hardly fifteen minutes drive from GITV office and an office pick-up would take her there. This was another mercy of God she was thankful to, as in Delhi this little distance from your place of work was considered a boon.
During dry runs, the emphasis was to run it smoothly from the studios as this was going to be almost live, only five minutes delay,
As this was mandatory according to transmission rules set by the government for any program that was not hard news. Only the hard news could go on air live. Mehar with two of her colleagues would see the newspapers part of it. They would go through the morning newspapers, which would arrive by quarter past five or a little later, pick up headlines from various papers, compare them with each other and also some interesting human interest stories from inside pages to highlight during this section.
One more heartening fact for her was that Mr. Suri was the main anchor of GMC along with one lady anchor from GITV. Both complimented each other beautifully. Mr. Suri would take care of the news and current affairs issues whereas Neha was proficient in dealing with other issues, like morning exercise capsule, or some beauty tips capsules and other such light topics thrown in between. This whole program of fifty minutes was fast paced. It was imagined, designed and executed with precise professional expertise and was bound to be a success. From the very first dry run, it ran smooth, not even a single technical fault occurred that could hamper its flow for even a single second. This was a big achievement. Soon the day of the real time run was approaching. It was on the following Monday. It was an acid test for Mehar.
On Friday the dry run was over and the whole team have had their breakfast of croissant, sandwiches, cup cakes and bananas that arrived in paper boxes from a caterer's every morning. Almost everyone had a little well deserved rest in various corners of the large office space spilled over three floors, studios, MCR and PCR, Mehar was sitting reading a newspaper as this was the time when invariably there would be no work for newsroom people. She was summoned by Mrs. Mehdiratta.
Mrs. Mehdiratta asked Mehar to visit Taj Mahal for her first daily story. There was a proposal that Taj Mahal should remain closed for visitors on weekend and also to increase the entry fee. She wanted Mehar to go there, shoot Taj Mahal and capture people's reactions as well as those of the authorities and get the story edited by Sunday evening as this had to go on air on Monday morning.
She came out of her chamber and began to work on her shoot. She booked the unit for the same evening, as it took them more than four hours to reach Agra. They would reach well into the night, stay in a hotel and would start work early morning the next day. Here
She came to know that she would not have to make the bookings for hotel. This job was done by the camera person. All hardware was handled by camera person and software by the reporter. This was the arrangement in large organizations. Mehar named it the hardware and the software.
As she was getting the tapes issued she came to know about the tricky part of this shoot. She recalled that whenever she had been doing her shoots in Rajasthan, the localized caretaker official of any building would grant them permission to shoot after obtaining an informal request. A couple of times she was required to give an application in written, which she would write promptly at the sight and the issue would be resolved. But with one of the wonders of the world, this was not to be. She was told that she would require prior permission from the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) after paying a fee of five thousand rupees. She spoke to Mrs. Mehdiratta. Mrs. Mehdiratta ordered the accounts department to issue her money, she called a car from transport department and embarked upon her first shoot for GITV.
She went straight to ASI's headquarters and after making rounds of more than half a dozen offices, came to know that the officer who provides permission was on leave, but the clerk concerned was considerate enough to get it done through the officer in charge.
Mehar was relieved. She sat down and wrote an application as he asked her to. When she filled in the amount in rupees, he asked her to write the Demand Draft number instead. He told her that being a government organization they could not accept fee in cash.
She was at a loss. Then she remembered she had her cheque book in her bag and told him that she can issue a crossed cheque. to this too he expressed his helplessness. He told her that he could not help her in any way as it had to be only a demand draft issued by a bank.
She called up the office and spoke to the accounts department. It was already half past four in the evening. They said they might get the DD issued as the bank which catered to GITV was very close but by the time it reaches her it would be past five. She asked the clerk and he again expressed his helplessness. He said even if he over stayed in the office for her, which would have been a great favor, his officer, who had to sign the letter, would not. So Mehar told the
Office people not to get the DD made. She thanked the man behind the desk; he had been very helpful all this while, though his circumstances did not allow him to help her much. With resigned air and disappointment writ large on her face she walked out with a heavy heart.
This was her first story and she had encountered failure at the onset. As she was heading towards office she kept thinking what she could do under these circumstances. She wanted to do this story badly. She wanted to prove herself. She knew if she had to create a space for herself in this mad world of television reporting in Delhi, she would have to show results. She had been used to small town mercies but the cut throat competition, tough conditions, long distances, tighter constraints of time which daily reporting for news and current affairs required were new to her. She was ready to learn her ropes but her very first test seemed to have turned into a fiasco. Crestfallen she entered the newsroom.
Both Dr. Mehdiratta and Mrs. Mehdiratta were walking out as she put her foot in the door. She simply blurted out, “Mrs. Mehdiratta, I could not get the permission to shoot the Taj.”
Before she could say anything Dr. Mehdiratta said,“No problem, you go to Agra in any case and get me the story. I want it. This is our first report of the day and I must have it. Do it whatever way you can but you have got to do it.”
With her eyes wide open and speechless, she remained rooted to her spot. She knew now what she had to do. She had to get it done. How? This will be answered after she reaches Agra. She liked it. In fact she began to love it. This story now was embedded with the challenges she had always taken in her life. It was just turning out to be parallel to her life's ways. Her mood was lifted in no time. A moment ago she was filled with despair and the next moment after Dr. Mehdiratta's words she was up and hopeful, ready to hit the road to do her bidding.
She collected empty tapes and other stuff, spoke to the camera person Veeru, who would be accompanying her for this shoot. It was decided that all of them would be picked up from their respective homes between seven to eight the same evening and would proceed towards Agra. Veeru had been with GITV for a long time, a quiet person with focused eye and a tall figure. He asked her about the shoot and she blurted out that she was not able to collect the
Permission required for its shoot. She could never forget his assuring words, “No worries, Taj Mahal is so big, it is nobody's personal property. We will shoot it.”
Mehar was fully at ease now. She had her reservations about her team mates reactions after her failure on acquiring permission to shoot. But this attitude of Veeru was more than welcome. She thanked him and left for home. When she reached home and spoke to Varshee about this, he too assured her that she will have ample scope for pictures of Taj. As she had not been to Taj Mahal before, she did not know that from almost every rooftop of any old house in Agra's old city, Taj was visible with all its majestic glory. She was filled with more hope. She knew she was going to make it. She also knew that every problem that stood in her way had more than one solution at hand at any time of the day. This made her more at ease with herself.
They reached the border of Delhi by eight in the evening. The Sky was darkening already, soon all vehicles had switched on their headlights. Mehar was a little perplexed as there was so much of traffic on the highway, she was not used to. She came from Rajasthan, a comparatively sparsely populated state and basically peace loving warm people. In fact she observed that Delhi was becoming more and more crowded with every passing year and its residents, more impatient. As they entered deeper into Uttar Pradesh, she found this state to be highly populated. She had never seen such heavy traffic on any highway ever. There were all modes of transport on it, from truck to car to bus, from horse carts to donkey herds, tractors of all makes towed with large fully laden trolleys. Then there were rickshaws and cycle riders all on highway, vying for space.
She became aware of the traffic hazards on such roads and soon she encountered one. They came across a recently happened accident. Alone policeman was guarding it with a baton, waiting for assistance. It appeared to be some hit and run case. A man either unconscious or already dead was lying on the side of his bullock cart. The half-turned cart was telling its story. Apparently the bullock was shown some mercy by the policeman and was freed from the cart. It was standing on the side of the road close to its owner, unmoved, unaffected, oblivious to what had happened or what more may happen. She was able to make out all this as their tempo traveler
slowed down to pass this narrowed down space guided by this policeman.
By the time they reached their hotel in Agra it was almost midnight. They had their dinner on the way so all of them retired immediately. Their day, the next day, began at seven. Veeru and his assistant were already in the dining hall when Mehar came down to have breakfast. They finished in a few minutes and were soon off to the narrow streets of old city of Agra to claim their share of Taj Mahal. They did not have to ask many or wander much. The very first small tea joint they stopped by had seating arrangement on its roof. Mehar asked the man at the counter if they could see the Taj from the roof top.
He said, “Many people come to my shop to take pictures of the Taj. You, please go up and take as many pictures as you want.”
All this while Mehar had been talking to the shop owner; Veeru had already climbed the stairs in gallops as his tall frame made it apt for him. When Mehar was climbing up she saw glimpses of him setting the camera atop tripod. Finally when she landed on the final step and looked straight, she gasped for air. Taj Mahal in its full majestic morning glory, shining like only Taj Mahal could, was in full view, lazing and basking in warm morning sun on Yamuna's golden banks. Yamuna was flowing by its side, dwarfed by Taj's beauty and magnanimity of size. She decided to take more footage of Taj from a point close to the river later in the evening. Suddenly she remembered something and asked Veeru if he had brought filters with him. He smiled and said only a fool would not bring them when he comes to shoot something as the Taj.
This was the time exclusively for Veeru. Mehar did not have anything to do accept sip tea and look with amazement and awe. This huge monument had taken more than twenty two years and almost thirty two million rupees during seventeenth century A.D. A labor of twenty thousand workers recruited across northern India, sculptors from Bukhara, calligraphers from Syria and Persia, in layers from southern India, stone cutters from Baluchistan, a specialist in building turrets, another who carved only marble flowers were part of the thirty-seven men who formed the creative unit.
She wondered if this majestic monument which attracted thousands all over the world every year to come and witness its
beauty to go back amazed was indeed commissioned by Shah Jahan, emperor during the Mughal empire's period of greatest prosperity who was grief-stricken when his third wife, Mumtaz Mahal, died during the birth of their 14th child.
She wondered if love of a man for his woman could be such a divine and intense force to inspire so consistently for years and years of such hard labor and expenditure to result in something of such immense magnitude. But she kept all this to herself. She wanted to believe in the power of love. She wanted to believe in sanctity of love. She wanted to keep this hope alive even if it was just a hope and not a reality. For love for her had ceased to be. Or was it that love had evaded her for she was not cut for it. She did not know and she did not have the space or the time to get to know this. She felt she did not care anymore. She had put it on the back burner for the time being. She did not know if it ever returned in her life, how she would take it. She had more pressing things in her. Life demanded more from her at this point in life. She had to address life head on.
Soon Veeru was through with the shots he felt he could take from this spot. They got down and decided to hunt for bites related to their story. They headed towards the Taj. Soon the streets turned colorful with shops on both sides of the street filled sovereigns prevalent around all tourist spots. Here it was replicas of Taj in every conceivable size. Many other interesting small objects in marble, beads, bracelets, necklaces, earrings, nose rings, finger rings, skirts and shirts with Taj printed in various hues and sizes. She loved this sight. So did Veeru's camera.
They reached main entry gate of the monument and spoke to some of the people there. Shopkeepers, visitors domestic as well as foreigners, local people, caretakers, children, grownups, elderly, people from all walks of life, people of all size, color and creed were there. Mehar spoke to some and collected her bites. In all people did not care much about a little hike in entry fee. But they all expressed that it should not be closed for a single day. They felt that people all over the world came to see the Taj, so it should remain open on all days of the week.
Now was the time for them to venture further. They entered the campus. No one asked a single question about them or their camera and other equipment. Soon they reached the ticket window. Mehar
Approached to buy the tickets; she was told that they had to buy ticket for their video camera as well. She happily agreed to that. She thought about the futility of the exercise and her disappointment of a day before, but she was in for more. She handed over the money which was asked of her and was waiting for tickets when someone from the ticket window came out to inspect the camera. He looked at the mike in her hand with GITV logo attached to it.
He said, “But you are from GITV.”
Mehar had already told the ticket clerk about it. She confirmed, “Yes, and I have already told this to the man behind that window.”
He went back to the booking room and came in the window. He stood behind booking clerk and said,“We cannot allow you to shoot. You have to seek permission from Delhi office of ASI. We allow only VHS cameras but yours is commercial.”
Mehar tried to argue with him that even VHS footage is used for commercial purpose and since they were from a news organization so they were not essentially commercial. This will be shown in a current affairs program and will not be used for any commercial purpose. He seemed to understand but he told her that it was beyond him. He could not help her at that point. She further tried to reason out with him by telling him the details about her visit to ASI office and the fiasco that happened. He seemed to have softened and this was the point she and Veeru were waiting for. Veeru knew his job well.
He said, “I will not put my foot inside the gate. Let me put my camera in this gate and shoot whatever little I can. This way you will not compromise with your rules and regulations and our purpose too will be solved.”
He understood and agreed. Silently Veeru grinning from ear to ear installed the tripod in the middle of the gate, opened it wide and fixed the camera on it. Once set he lost no time in shooting all he could. With his wide angles and tel lens attached and filters handy, he did a marvelous job in not more than fifteen minutes. As soon he was done, he detached his camera, held it on his shoulder, shot some more and they were ready to go. Both Mehar and Veeru thanked the man behind desk and they walked out of the Taj premises.
They went around the city, shot more, had their lunch and as the evening was approaching they reached banks of Yamuna.
Yamuna as it reaches Agra loses much of its force, but still for someone who had spent many adult years of her life in Thar desert, even this stream seemed welcoming.
Colors of evening were doing wonders to the flowing waters. Small boats were in it fighting their course in gushing waters. Beautifully carved masterpiece of white marble created centuries ago by these very human hands standing like a living deity, silent and in full command; looking down at the world sprawling around its majestic existence... Every one's very own Taj Mahal. A monument which everyone had seen so many times in pictures, in films, on television; that it never looks unfamiliar when you set your eyes on the real one for the first time, yet you are mesmerized by its beauty with such force that its first sight always remains etched in your mind as long as you live. She was lost to its charms and Veeru kept his camera intrigued by its charm-both in love with the Taj Mahal, each in his and her own way.
They reached Delhi that night. Next morning, in the office, Mehar logged her tapes, wrote script, got it cleared, got the story edited by the evening and sent it for Mrs. Mehdiratta's approval. Veeru had done a wonderful job with his artistic deft handling of camera and the story turned out to be visually very rich. It got approved and Mehar went home with a large smile on her face and hope in her heart for better times.
Next morning was the d-day. The big event GMC went on air. There was tension all around, silent tension. Everyone was up on toes. But every face tried successfully to look relieved and stress free. No one talked anything that did not relate to work. All went smooth and it was very smooth when the Taj Mahal story came on air. Mehar was watching with her colleagues in the newsroom feeling proud within. Suddenly the screen showed a glitch, a second of black screen and it was again on screen, not a single frame missed, not even a single word lost. Then what was that?
Mehar had missed many heartbeats. She felt many others too in the news room. But after that too, all went smooth. Soon the signature logo ran and the office was filled with loud claps, hoots of applaud, feet tapping, people running in from PCR and MCR to join in the festive mood. Huge chocolate cake was cut and champagne flowed. Dr. Mehdiratta pointed her finger towards Mehar accusing
her playfully; she tried to clear the air by expressing ignorance but soon understood and shrugged her shoulders.
She realized there was nothing wrong with the rough cut she had submitted. She later confirmed too. This was something to do with the telecast part. But it troubled her for many days. Why did it happen only in her story? She kept asking herself for many days to come. It kept disturbing her. Was it a bad omen or was it just another coincidence. She could not decide. She kept flowing with the flow.
She kept herself busy by keeping pace with time. For time in news organization ran very fast. She too had to run with it. She was learning, learning fast the new tricks every single day. She learned to keep pace with life in a different way here. She learned to stay aloof and uninvolved in all sorts of situations. She learned to turn a blind eye to many things she did not find of any concern to her. She learned to turn a deaf ear to anything that did not match with her tastes. Soon she learned to learn fast and quick, sometimes so quick that she surprised herself.
All this happened while she had been living in Varshee's house enjoying their hospitality. The whole family was very courteous as well as informal, there was always a stream of visitors coming in and going out. She never felt out of place there, but she had to think about her own place. She tried to look for an apartment in residential localities around her office. But here was the catch. She found to her dismay that Delhi was in general not kind to women, especially the ones who would state their status clearly. Being essentially a Punjabi city she would be asked a thousand questions before getting an apartment on hire.
The moment she would state that she was married, she was asked about her husband. She would try to explain that she did not live with him; she would be refused point blank. After her first such encounter she felt like saying that she did not have a boyfriend and even if she had one she will not invite him home, but sense prevailed and she stopped short of doing this damage to her dignity. Then she was suggested by her colleagues not to divulge about her marital status, but she did not want to lie.
So for almost two weeks she tried to hire one apartment for herself in vain. Then she came across one advertisement in newspaper about a guest accommodation very close to Varshee's
House. She felt with this kind of arrangement she would be able to visit his family quite often and she would also get rid of this nagging feeling of hoarding on to them. She had become fond of the whole family and knew if she stayed far, she would not be able to visit often and miss them badly.
The same Sunday she saw that advertisement, she visited and found the owner was a retired police officer. She told him about herself, the basic information and when he tried to question her further she refused to answer. She told him that she is a responsible person and he or his family will not have to feel any responsibility towards her. By this time she had come to understand some of Delhi ways. He stopped short. Then she told him since the accommodation is for two people but she will not share it with anyone and will pay the full rent.
He seemed to like this idea. He even suggested that she can bring any of her female colleagues or friends with her if she wanted. She assured him that no such thing will happen with her. She wants and likes her peace. She also told him that during school holidays her son might come and stay with her and she will pay for his boarding separately. He was trying to hide his smile by now. She knew that she had made the bargain, she took out the money from her bag, put it in front of him and told him that she will shift in his house the following Sunday. He quickly picked the currency, counted with excitement and called his wife in.
The lady seemed to be waiting for the cue, she entered quickly and Mehar greeted this homely middle aged lady with folded hands. She felt she will be comfortable with her. She only asked Mehar's name and took her along to see the room. When Mehar saw the room, she liked one fact about it that it had independent entrance from the back of the house, was airy, fairly sized and had ample day light. Though bathroom was tiny but it allowed day light from two walls. Mehar was pleased to see it. She thanked the lady and this is when she asked Mehar why she paid the advance even before looking at the room.
Mehar thought about it and told her, “I liked your house as I entered. It was clean and uncluttered. Moreover, the fact that your husband had been in police meant that he would not have bought a house which lacked major facilities. Secondly I want to stay close to my friend's house which is at walking distance from here.”
She was startled, “Who is he?”
Mehar laughed aloud, “Don't be scared. He is not my boyfriend. He is a family friend and I am staying with the family right now. And they would definitely not visit me here in a guest accommodation. For this I have the whole of Delhi to do, besides their house where I am putting right now.”
She did not understand much but she nodded and Mehar felt relieved. In the evening she told about this to Varshee and Rawi. They did not like it. Rawi even expressed her unhappiness but they let her be. She realized that her decision to take up this place closer to their house had paid dividends. They seemed to understand her hesitation in staying with them for longer, as well as her willingness to stay close by.
Meanwhile she was learning her ropes at GITV. An early morning ride to office on most days but sometimes when she would be late into evening while editing her report of the day, she would ask for staying away from morning schedule and was allowed to. Later when she came across reporters from other news organizations she realized to her pleasure that whatever people said about GITV was correct. She found them to be working under harsh conditions as compared to herself.
Sometimes they would share her facilities and would express their keen desire to be in her organization if she could help them. She would be surprised to know how little they were paid for working so diligently and many times for more hours than she did. She realized that GITV were the best pay masters in television news and the best employers as well. They knew how to create a faithful, creative, hard working and thoroughly professional team.
The following Sunday Mehar packed her bags, said a cheerful goodbye to the family and shifted to her new accommodation. She found the bed sheets starched and smelling nice, the room was immaculately clean, not a trace of dust or dirt anywhere. The bathroom was too clean and dry. She knew she was going to like this place as long as she stayed there. The land Lady asked her if she would like to have her dinner with them in the dining room or in her room. She was going out for dinner that evening so she asked to be excused. To this she was told that the day she was not eating home she would have to inform them at least three hours in advance so that her share of food did not go waste. She agreed.
After opening one of her suitcases and keeping her clothes in the wardrobe, she went out for the evening. During her visits to Delhi, which had become quite frequent lately she had befriended a group of young happy people who spent their weekend and sometimes weekdays evenings too at anyone's place. Had a few drinks and then either ordered food from outside or went out for dinner. Most of them were young couples with little children, who were left in their grandparents company. Mehar liked their company; they were a bunch of happy-go-lucky people, least concerned with anyone's personal life. Absolutely no questions were asked unless someone wanted to share something or asked for advice or some help.
She was going through so much in her personal life; she badly needed such carefree atmosphere. Her weekends were invariably spent in their company. That evening was the same; the only difference was that she had asked to be dropped at a different address. This time too since it was the same direction as earlier when she was staying with Varshee's family, Dhiranjan and Mallika dropped her as this was on their way. None of the two asked her anything but she felt they wanted to know. So she told in compact words that she did not want to continue living without contributing anything and Varshee had scolded her when she had offered to pay for her staying in his house (which was indeed true), she had shifted nearby to a paying guest accommodation. They seemed satisfied and did not ask further.
As she reached the back of the house she found that except one small light just above her door the whole house was dark. She unlocked door and fumbled with light switch. As the room lit up she looked at the clock, it was a little over one' O clock. She quickly finished her nightly schedule, changed and went to bed. It did not take her more than five minutes to blissfully fall asleep. She had to get up at four and get ready by four thirty. It was hardly a wink of a sleep when her alarm rang. She did her morning schedule with closed eyes. The running geyser did not provide her warm water as the electricity connection was off. She washed her face and changed into working clothes. She decided to have a shower later during the day and also to sort out this matter with the landlady.
This was the first time she would be picked up by the office car from this address, so she was not sure what time it would arrive She wanted to be ready and waiting for it outside so no one felt any
Discomfort. No sooner had she locked the door she to the car's sound and turned to see it arriving. She got into it and another week of work began.
GMC was turning out to be very popular all over India. It was first of its kind in the country. There were serials and other forms of entertainment and informative programs like one called ‘Infotainment’ which was telecast in the evenings, but mornings were basically blank with some news and a few programs on exercise or yoga. With “Good Morning Country” people now had something to switch on their televisions to during their morning schedule.
Now office goers could watch news and even have a glimpse of almost all national dailies in it while going through their morning routine and getting ready for work. Home makers could watch cookery shows and cook breakfast for the family in one go. Exercise buffs could stand in front of the television and learn a few more tricks, yoga lovers now had more information and they looked forward to their share eagerly. In a nutshell, GMC turned out to be among some very successful and popular programs.
All this while when she was busy getting her grooves dig deeper in her new life, Mehar did not hear a word from Rajinder. But she knew this was not to be. He was told about Mehar's joining GITV and shifting to Delhi by her father and although he might have spoken about his displeasure over this to him, Janab Singh did not convey any of it to her. Mehar did not have the nerve to ask him. She knew one of these days she would hear from Rajinder. Moreover it was almost eleven months since he had left India, so his next leave was due.
One afternoon she got a call from Varshee while in her office. She was startled as this was very unlikely. He had never called her at work. He told her that the previous night he had received a call from Rajinder, who was apparently in a foul mood and wanted to talk to her. In fact his younger daughter Tapur had picked up the phone. She informed him that Mehar did not live with them; he accused her of hiding Mehar and not letting him speak to her. Flabbergasted she passed on the receiver to her father. He told him in clear words that Mehar was not living with them. Rajinder asked for her address, which he did not divulge.
They spoke on phone for about fifteen minutes. This was all Varshee told her. Mehar too did not want to know more. She knew what all he would have said to him. She felt like apologizing to him for being the cause of this discomfort but refrained herself. Varshee had on one occasion earlier foretold that something like that would happen. In fact he was expecting him to come there at his house and demand to see Mehar. Varshee wanted to know if there was any possibility of reconciliation. To this Mehar had expressed in negative. He remembered that and closed the chapter by saying to Rajinder that it's a matter between husband and wife and Rajinder should sort this out with Mehar without his or Rawi's assistance.
Mehar was relieved to hear this. But the next question was – now what? He was back and wanted her to be at home. This was evident from his action. She had to be cautious now.
She was right. That very same night she got a call from Janab Singh that Rajinder had come, met them and wanted to speak to Mehar. He had asked for her phone number and her address, so that he could come to Delhi to meet her. They forbade him and told him that they would ask Mehar to come to Ganga Nagar so that could meet and talk to her. He was reluctant to meet her in their presence but finally he agreed. He wanted to take Ranjit with him but since Ranjit's school was open, they did not allow him to. So, now Mehar should come to Ganga Nagar the next weekend and talk to him.
Mehar put down the receiver and sat thinking about it. She knew this had to be done for one final time. She could not escape it. However much she had tried to convey this to him that she was not able to continue with this relationship any longer, though he had been declining to accept it. Once again in the presence of her parents or may be some more people she would have to repeat her resolve in harsh sharp words. She disliked this idea deeply but she knew she would have to do it. In spite of all she had had during her marriage she wanted to close this chapter with whatever little dignity that was left in it.
But she also knew that was not to be. She was ready to move on, leaving behind everything but her son. She had already told him that she would leave home with her son and would never look back. But he did not take her seriously. It seemed she would have to repeat the same exercise. She went to a disturbed sleep and woke up in the morning with a heavy heart. That day after her morning duties she
Had to go out for a shoot. Hindi Saptaah was being celebrated all over India. She was doing a story on it. She did the shoot through the day and edited the story by evening. All this while she felt lost. It began to seep in her work too. She fumbled many times during recording of voice- over. But she realized this soon and tried to compose herself by taking a deep breath and throwing all unnecessary thoughts out of her mind.
After the edit, she realized it was Wednesday and she had not booked the train ticket for Saturday. She called the travel agent on phone. There was a train called Intercity Express from New Delhi to GangaNagar every day at 1:30P.M. She asked the agent to book one seat in chair car for Saturday and return ticket for the following Monday. As this train started from Ganga Nagar at five in the morning and reached Delhi around midday, she felt the need to seek a day's leave of absence. In any case she had to speak to Mrs. Mehdiratta as she would be out of the city for three days. She spoke to her assistant Nancy and was relieved to know that she was in office.
Mrs. Mehdiratta and Dr. Mehdiratta's offices were adjacent to each other separated by a wooden panel. Mrs. Mehdiratta always kept her door open. Mehar went there and stood in the door, she called her in. Mehar told her that she needed to leave Delhi for three days and return for work on Tuesday. Mrs. Mehdiratta wished her luck for whatever reason she was going and allowed her to. These were the early days when big houses like GITV were like a close knit group of people working as team. Soon it too became a professional organization as more and more people joined in to tackle the work load which was increasing with every passing day in many folds. Mehar and her colleagues would be surprised to see new faces each morning. Carpenters would keep working around the clock to accommodate new staff. New floors of Archana complex were constantly being purchased or hired and were added. But that came a little later.
She went through the week working, reporting, writing scripts, doing voice-overs, getting stories edited but this encounter which was to happen in all probability on Saturday evening kept sitting on her mind and kept her morale quite low. She kept hoping against hope that he was able to understand the futility of another face off with her and save her from the discomfort of this. But nothing of the sort happened. Janab Singh called her on Friday to confirm her
arrival and she assured him that she was leaving next afternoon by train and would be home around nine late into evening.
She got up with a heavy heart and heavier head the next morning, got ready and rang the bell for the landlady to tell her that she would come for breakfast in fifteen minutes. This was the arrangement for every meal. She was supposed to call the bell if she needed anything and the gracious lady would never make her wait even for those mandatory fifteen minutes. It seemed she was short of company. She would happily come, listen to her and try to indulge in a little bit of gossip as well. But the poor lady did not get much opportunity, as Mehar was too busy with her job and other commitments. Besides her job being very demanding, the social group she was involved with too did not leave her much time to lament about her life or any other thing. She was thankful for this jam packed life. In fact she had begun to love each moment of it. She did not want to barter it for anything else.
Last night turned out to be hilarious in many ways. They had started from Kapoor's home after drinks and headed towards an eating joint in Defense Colony for dinner. In all they were seven of them. Shradha and Mohit Kapoor, Sneha, Anjali, Irshad, Jasjeet and Mehar. The night being Friday was lean, otherwise they would be more than a dozen. They had a nice time having dinner and when they left that place, the staff was waiting for them to leave to close down for the day.
Laughing, talking and generally making merry when they reached a few kilometers, Shradha suddenly remembered that she was not carrying her handbag. She gave out a shriek, Mohit stopped the car by the side and looked at her with questioning eyes. Mehar was with them that night, generally when someone could pick her from her place she avoided to drive herself. That day too she was picked by Irshad earlier in the evening from her office. And now was being driven back by Kapoor couple as their place was closer to where she lived.
Shradha was looking and fumbling around in the car with panic in her eyes. She blurted out, “I have lost my handbag. I don't have it with me now.”
Mohit was perplexed,“How come you lost your handbag? I can't imagine you doing something like that. You always keep it in your hand.”
Mehar too got worried. The three of them got out of the car and looked in each and every corner of the car. It was not to be seen. Soon the other two cars too stopped after them. They were in the middle of the road. The three cars, seven people, searching for a handbag only Shradha could recognize. During this search many lost and forgotten items got out of the boots of the cars, their reappearances cherished.
It was a scene worth watching for many people. Doors of cars were open, seven of them smiling, laughing and worrying over Shradha's lost handbag, all at once. Many cars while passing them by slowed down, people from inside looked at them curiously and sped away. It was the time when generally Delhi goes to sleep but many like them were out on roads. It seemed one of them called the police PCR. Soon a van came and stopped by them.
Jasjeet was standing close to Mehar, he said in a voice audible to Mehar only,“Loji, kise na karta phone, jhatpat police vee aayi.”
(There is one series of old Punjabi songs in which the singer talks about many tricky situation a villager gets into when he visits European and African countries. In all situations, someone would call police and they would arrive immediately.)
Mehar had listened to these songs many times, Jasjeet knew this. Both of them had a hard time hiding their smiles. By this time Mohit had come forward to meet the police official who got out of the Jeep to ask them what the matter was with them. He explained about the lost handbag of his wife. Officer asked him where they had been to before getting into their car. He told him the name of the eating place where they had dinner. Then the officer asked if they had checked there.
To this Mohit as well as all of them said in unison, “No.”
Exactly at the same instant this realization occurred to Shradha as well. She said, “Yes, I forgot it there. I had kept it on the table on the back side. Yes, I did not pick it up when I left. It is indeed there.”
All of them without thinking further got inside the cars. Mohit remembered to thank the officer and all of them were again on their way to Defense colony. When they reached there they found it locked. But sounds were coming from inside. It seemed the staff was finishing doing dishes and other preparation for the next day. Mohit made a phone call, no one picked up. They could hear the phone
ringing. He did that second time, this time a weary bearer's voice said, “Hello”
Mohit explained hurriedly about the handbag, all this while Shradha telling him details about its size, color and its contents.
After he finished, the bearer said, “Yes, the bag is there. We have kept it in the manager's cabin. The outer door is locked so I can not handover to you right now. You will have to come tomorrow morning with the madam who owns it to claim after 12 P.M.”
Mohit took a deep sigh of relief and disconnected the call. Shradha looked at him with questioning eyes. He told her. She looked disappointed and worried. She told him that she wanted to speak to the person herself. Mohit called again and when bearer came on the line he gave it to Shradha telling him that madam wanted to speak to him.
Shradha explained to him that since her handbag had some cosmetics, so this should be kept on the second or third shelf of inside of the fridge, as the air conditioners would be off during the night and heat might spoil those. Mohit was feeling embarrassed, but kept a brave front. Mehar liked him for that. All the others were equally disturbed about the fate of the cosmetics being girls. So after the matter was settled they all went their way, in jovial mood, each one singing their own tunes.
This was what she liked about these friends of hers. All individuals in their own way, all of them liked to do things in their own way, no one trying to change the other, accepting each other the way they were, liking and loving them the way they are. Accepting their nice things without trying to reject traits they found different from them. She felt this was not impossible to do. She always felt that if you love a person you love completely. You can not choose and pick when you love someone.
She felt the same way for her son. He was born to her, she loved him unconditionally. Even when he made mischief, even when he did not listen to her, even when he behaved in manner that did not suite her sensibilities. She could not own him for some reason and disown him for another. Either she owned him completely or disowned him completely. She had chosen to own him completely, no matter what and she was going to stick to it.
She decided on this and embarked on her journey that afternoon towards another show down with Rajinder, which she honestly and deeply wanted to be the last one. She was tired. She knew she did not have energy for this. She had better things to do with her life as well as her son's upbringing. Sitting in the train eating her packed lunch of rich thick paranthas with carrots and peas, done meticulously by her gracious landlady, drinking a soft drink from can, she was trying to think of how to face Rajinder this time in her parent's presence. She was sure of sparks flying all around, but she could not think of how much more will be burnt this time. She was left with nothing now inside her. She also knew that whatever had happened at Hukum Singh's home in Delhi that too must have been conveyed to them by now.
She could not think of much and after finishing her heavy lunch, rested her head against the back of the chair and was soon asleep. Blissful after a late night and early morning she woke up by the sounds of chaiwala. At Bhatinda in Punjab these tea boys enter the train with tea and snacks for the passengers. She woke up relaxed. She had been on this train and this compartment many times before, even knew both conductors by their names. She felt at home and loved this feeling this time more than any other time. Her inside was beginning to ache, she had begun to feel the thorns in her being, and her soul had already begun to hurt as it always did when Rajinder would hurl accusations at her without having a second thought.
At such a time she would feel restless. Her back would bend inward and eyes smart, her heart would ache, her limbs would go numb. Although she would manage to go about her life as scheduled but deep inside she would be lost to the world. She would curl up herself inside, just like a snail or a tortoise who would not dare risk facing the world at he did not believe in its honesty to not to hurt it. She would become suspicious of every little movement around her, every little sound, every little gesture, so much so that she would begin to suspect even those whom she considered her well wishers.
This was something she was wary of. She wanted to save herself from this negativity. She wanted to tell herself that if one person or for that matter a few people in this whole wide world did not like her, there were a whole lot, more of them in this same very world who liked her, loved her or at least did not want to harm her in any way. She had to keep her faith from dwindling. She had to keep
Herself rooted inside her to believe in their generosity. She had to let them make her feel wanted to keep her own faith in herself intact.
She got down the train and came out of the railway station, of a small town. Her father was waiting standing by his car. Lately Janab Singh's knees had begun to trouble him a lot, so he refrained from climbing or getting down the stairs. She had herself told him to wait outside and was pleased to see that he complied with her request. As she got into the car, she asked about Ranjit. Janab Singh hesitated for a while, then told her that Rajinder was at home waiting for her and he did not allow Ranjit to accompany his grandfather. This was startling for her but she kept her cool. Although within her something began to rise up and waves of trouble began to spread around.
They reached home to find Ranjit standing at the outer gate and waiting impatiently for her. She embraced him and together they went inside to see Rajinder glued to the television. Surjit was now here to be seen. She greeted Rajinder and without waiting for his answer asked Ranjit about his grandmother. Ranjit told her she had gone to sleep. This was very unlikely. All these years whenever Mehar went to GangaNagar, she always found Surjit waiting for her. She went straight to her parent's bedroom. Surjit was indeed lying down and looked unwell. She understood. She called out aloud, “Biji.”
They embraced. Surjit held her close to her bosom for a long time. Then she let her loose and without even bothering to ask her if she needed to eat her dinner, she said, “My child. How I hate myself for getting you into all this. But you will have to face all this. He is sitting there outside to tear you apart. You will have to become a hard one, you will have to become a stone to live in this world. Make yourself strong. Life is going to examine you very closely now.”
Surjit was sobbing. This was strange for Mehar. She had seen tears in Janab Singh's eyes many times but never in her mother's. This was more than her mother could convey to her. She slowly separated herself from her and said, “I don't know if I really deserve all this, but whatever has come to me I have accepted so far. I will do that in future too. You do not have to worry much. I have seen enough. Let him do whatever more he can. He cannot take my life and my fate. I have faith in both of you and my God.”
She asked Surjit about her dinner. She told her that both of them had already eaten, Ranjit wanted to eat with her. She did not mention Rajinder. Mehar did not ask. She went out and told her father who by then had finished his nightly schedule to retire. He smiled at her and said,“Mehar, I am sleeping in the other room. You go to our room after you have dinner. Your mother wants you by her side tonight.”
She understood. She understood the tone and also the reason why Janab Singh said this in a loud voice. Rajinder was in hearing range.
Mehar held Ranjit with her arm over his shoulder and asked Rajinder to join for dinner. He tried to look reluctant but soon got up and joined his wife and son. They ate in silence. Ranjit looked tired and sleepy. Mehar said a hurried good night to Rajinder, without waiting again for his response she took Ranjit to the room her father had already retired to. Ranjit just fell on the bed and was almost half asleep when Mehar kissed him good night. Janab Singh too was snoring.
She got out of the room to find Rajinder waiting for her. She did not wait for him to say anything. She was certain that he knew about his sleeping arrangements, which had certainly been made known to him by Surjit before she retired to her bedroom. She told him to go to sleep. He looked at her a little surprised and startled, but did not argue. He seemed to have understood that this part of the earth belonged to Mehar. He grudgingly relented. She went straight to her mother's bedroom.
