Sheppey and Sittingbourne Writers

THE ELOPEMENT   

Nita Ghosh. aged sixteen. lived with her mother, Maya. a widow, in the red-light portion of the village of Uttapara. In this coil on of mud walled houses with tiled roofs, separated by narrow passages, lived a dozen women from the poorer castes, who served the sexual needs of the local artisans. travellers, passers-by, truck and taxi drivers, rickshaw pullers and single men.

Maya, in her mid-thirties. was the madam of this outfit, a tough businesswoman who brooked no nonsense from her clients and miscreants who frequented the premises. She was the mistress of Arun Desai, in his mid - forties, the local landowner and builder; he lived in the railway colony about eight kilometres away and sent his chauffeur to pick her up for their monthly night of passion. His wife and family lived in a large bungalow in the port city about four hours away on a train.

Nita attended the local school in company of Bipin, the son of the teashop owner next door, from the age of five. She was a bright and alert student and expected to go on to further education. But her mother had other plans. She was grooming her for Arun who wanted her for himself. He had a bungalow. nicely tucked away in the forest plantation, specially set aside for Nita as a future love-nest. But secretly. Nita’s heartstrings tugged for John Tipno. She secretly hatched a plan of escape.

John Tipno a teacher at her school, was a Christian from the Santhal Parganas, northwest of here. He was tall, dark and handsome and Nita had taken a fancy to him from afar. John reciprocated - whenever he passed her. on his bicycle, he would ring the bell and throw her a friendly wave and smile. During these moments. Nita would then feel a surge of desire overwhelm her and she almost fainted! But after a few seconds she would be her normal self again.

For almost three months. unknown to Maya. Nita sent love notes to John via Bipin who was preparing for the university entry examinations. Bipin told her, one evening on his return. that John had tendered his resignation and would be leaving the following Saturday to take up an appointment of deputy head at a new school in Noida new town about five hundred miles to the north. He would be boarding the 8 am Rajdhani express to Noida.

On hearing this, Maya wondered about her fate. it disturbed her state of mind - she couldn't sleep that night. She tossed and turned in bed and morning wasn't breaking quick enough. It was one o'clock, then two o'clock. She was fully awake to the night sounds around - the train in the distance crossing the river bridge, the thud of the night watchman's staff on the road as he did his rounds, the hooting owls, and the yelp of the hyenas on the village outskirts. She finally fell into a deep slumber and had to be awakened by her mother the next morning.

The day finally arrived when Nita was to be formally presented to Arun. Maya all along wanted a better life for her daughter. She shuddered when she recalled the dreadful times, in her past. when she suffered beatings from her drunken customers; the pawing, kicks, slaps, brute force and name callings. No, ‘Nita deserved better’, Maya thought inwardly.

Arun arrived promptly at dusk, chauffeur driven as usual, and walked from the car parked across the road towards the front entrance. A crowd had already gathered on both sides of the road when word got around that a local celebrity was in the vicinity.

Maya escorted Arun to a well-lit room specially set aside for occasions such as this. The women positioned in the middle sang songs of welcome with accompaniment of the flute. drum, cymbals and harmonium. A short welcoming speech followed.

Then Nita entered, bejewelled, wearing a brocaded green-and-gold sari. She namasteid to Arun who arose and led her to be seated beside him on the elevated dais for the rest of the ceremony. He now presented her with a battery-powered radio-cassette recorder, jeans and T-shirts, make-up, cash, perfume, three colourful silk sarees and a wristwatch. Feasting and merry making continued until midnight when the honoured guest, stood up, thanked everyone and was driven away into the darkness along the now deserted street.

Nita decided to carry out her plan of action when all was quiet and everyone sound asleep. The tears cascaded down her cheeks and her body shook with her sobs as she lay on her side with her hands joined in silent prayer, thinking of Maya and Bipin from whom she would soon be parted, perhaps forever! She arose quietly before dawn, had a bath and changed into jeans and trousers and left the premises by the back door.

She headed quickly to the line of trees on the far side of the open field. By now it was daybreak and she walked to the single-track railway station in over an hour and half She bought a ticket and waited nervously amongst the trees to one side of the platform.

There was no sign of him! Had he changed his mind, as he had been a much-loved teacher for five years? She burst into tears at the thought. It was only a quarter past seven - `Still forty-five minutes to departure time, what a drag!'. she said to herself and yawned.

Then when she had almost given up hope she heard the familiar tinkling of the cycle bell. `Thanks be to God,’ she said to herself. Without a second thought she rushed out of her hiding place straight into the arms of Bipin on his cycle. He smiled and together they walked to the car waiting under a peepul tree. The door opened. Arun climbed out, grabbed Nita, bundled her into the boot of the Hindusthan Ambassador’s car which then sped away leaving a swirling cloud of dust in its wake.

With the money he received as a reward, Bipin was able to train as a draftsman at the Northern Polytechnic. With venture capital obtained from a government grant he now runs a successful engineering business in the industrial quarter of Noida.

This story an edited version of a true story, not to protect anybody but simply because the author cannot remember all the details.  The incident actually happened to me and some years back I wrote the story for a radio program - a somewhat longer version but I like this one better.  Editor.  James Apps

When we were six

Looking back I suppose I was the odd one out, the stranger whose accent separated him from everybody else.  This was White Rock BC and I was old enough to go to school, and most of the time I liked it.  Sure it was strange; we had to buy milk in cartons, chocolate flavour was nice and there was a puppet show we had to bring a penny – one cent – to pay to watch; the pond freezing up during the snows on which kids skated, and the school building had at least two floors.

          I was amazed when one boy was brought to school in his father’s car and clung on to the door pillar screaming to go home and was whisked away; this a regular Monday morning performance and the rest of the week he was absent. 

          School in Canada was confusing and although I remember snippets of it the memories are jumbled up into one truncated episode. Except that is for the Weird Kid.  There’s always a weird kid in every school, a real outsider, and as like attracts like being an outsider myself I made friends with him.  So, okay, the kid was strange but at the time nobody wanted to be friends with me and I needed somebody to talk to. 

          He suggested we walk home together and at first that was all we did and like most small boys we chatted, threw stones and ran around noisily.  But one day he suggested a different game and led me to a vacant lot where there was an old garage.  It was big enough for three or four cars and I suppose somebody must have used it as a repair shop because there was a bench on one side with hanging lamps and a small back door. 

          What the Weird Kid showed me was different.

          Close to the back wall there was a wooden armchair to which he led me giving me excited glances as we got nearer.

          “This is my favourite game,” he said and stopped beside the chair, his hand touching the wood lovingly. “I’ll show you.”

          And with deft movements that he had obviously perfected he gathered two different coloured strands of flex and wrapped one to each of the chair arms, and another two he draped over the top of the chair.  He took the four free ends, and pointing gleefully to a black painted square on the wall he pushed the ends into holes in the wall and plugged the wires in with rag. 

          “Now, we do this,” he said and took a polished wooden stick from the floor and pushed that into another hole making sure it was pointing up.  “Now, you tie my wrists and ankles to the chair when I sit in it and we can play.”

          As he took up position and I tied him as he said I asked what we were supposed to be playing. 

          “Don’t you know?”

          I shook my head but I was beginning understand that it was something odd.

          “Look, all you have to do is pull the lever down and watch. You’ll soon get the hang of it.”  He turned his head toward the wall where the drawn in box was with the wires hanging from it.  “You should tie my head but this time just pull that lever down.  Count it down from five.”

          I realised he meant me to pull the piece of wood down and so, with still no idea what he wanted I did as he asked and watched in horror as on my ‘zero’ he made strange zizzing noises and twitched and twisted in the seat until at last he stopped and flopped sideways – silent.

          I walked over to him and stood beside the chair looking at him, puzzled.  Suddenly he looked up at me grinning, a lop sided grin that worried me; I hadn’t seen anybody look like that before.  His eyes were alight with some inner glow and his whole being seemed to exude a satisfaction that I could not share.

          “What is it?” I asked, softly.

          “It’s the electric chair, dummy, it’s what they do to murderers,” he said and grinned.  “Now its your turn.”

          And looking at that grin, the insane fanatical grin I was glad he was tied to the chair; and that was where I left him.