Land of Five Rivers Read Online Free PDF Page A

wrong to anyone nor suffers anyone to do him any wrong.’
    Sunder Lal’s words arrested everyone’s attention. He continued his oration. ‘Injustice to oneself is as great a wrong as inflicting it on others... even today Lord Ram has ejected Sita from his home... only because she was compelled to live with her abductor, Ravana... what sin had Sita committed? Wasn’t she the victim of a ruse and then of violence like our own mothers and sisters today? Was it a question of Sita’s rightness and wrongness, or the wickedness of Ravana? Ravana had ten heads, the donkey has only one large one... today our innocent Sitas have been thrown out of their homes... Sita... Lajwanti.’ ...Sunder Lal broke down and wept.
    Rasalu and Neki Ram raised aloft their banners: schoolchildren had cut out and pasted slogans on them. They yelled ‘Long Live Sunder Lal Babu.’ Somebody in the crowd shouted ‘Long Live Sita — the queen of virtue.’ And somebody else cried ‘Sri Ram Chandra...’
    Many voices shouted ‘Silence.’ Many people left the congregation and joined the procession. Narain Bawa’s months of preaching was undone in a few moments. The lawyer, Kalka Prasad, and the petition writer, Hukam Singh, led the procession towards the great square... tapping a sort of victory tatoo with their decrepit walking sticks. Sunder Lal had not yet dried his tears. The processionists sang with great gusto.
    ‘The leaves of lajwanti wither with the touch...’
    The dawn had not yet greyed the eastern horizon when the song of the processionists assailed the ears of the residents of Mulla Shakoor. The widow in house 414 stretched her limbs and being still heavy with sleep went back to her dreams. Lal Chand who was from Sunder Lal’s village came running. He stuck his arms out of his shawl and said breathlessly: ‘Congratulations, Sunder Lal.’ Sunder Lal prodded the embers in his
chillum
and asked. ‘What for, Lal Chand?’
    ‘I saw sister-in-law Lajo.’
    The
chillum
fell from Sunder Lal’s hands; the sweetened tobacco scattered on the floor. ‘Where did you see her?’ he asked, taking Lal Chand by the shoulder.
    ‘On the border at Wagah.’
    Sunder Lal let go of Lal Chand. ‘It must have been someone else,’ he said quickly and sat down on his haunches.
    ‘No, brother Sunder Lal, it was sister-in-law Lajo,’ repeated Lal Chand with reassurance. ‘The same Lajo.’
    ‘Could you recognise her?’ asked Sunder Lal gathering bits of the tobacco and mashing them in his palm. He took Rasalu’s
chillum
and continued; ‘All right, tell me what are her distinguishing marks?’
    ‘You are a strange one to think that I wouldn’t recognise her! She has a tatoo mark on her chin, another on her right cheek and...’
    ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ exploded Sunder Lal and completed his wife’s description: ‘the third one is on her forehead.’
    He sat up on his knees. He wanted to remove all doubts. He recalled the marks Lajwanti had had tatooed on her body as a child; they were like the green spots on the leaves of lajwanti, which disappear when the leaves curl up. His Lajwanti behaved exactly in the same way; whenever he pointed out her tatoo marks she used to curl up in embarrassment as if in a shell — almost as if she were stripped and her nakedness was being exposed. A strange longing as well as fear wracked Sunder Lal’s body. He took Lal Chand by the arm and asked, ‘How did Lajo get to the border?’
    ‘There was an exchange of abducted women between India and Pakistan.’
    ‘What happened?’ Sunder Lal stood up suddenly and repeated impatiently. ‘Tell me, what happened then?’
    Rasalu rose from the charpoy and in his smoker’s wheezy voice asked. ‘Is it really true that sister-in-law Lajo is back?’
    Lal Chand continued his story... ‘At the border the Pakistanis returned sixteen of our women and took back sixteen of theirs... there was some argument... our chaps said that the women they were handing over were old