Gently Falls the Bakula, Page 2

  THREE

  Before the reorganization of the states in 1956, the districts of Dharwad, Karwar, Belgaum and Bijapur were part of the Bombay Presidency. As a result, these districts bear a greater similarity to the culture of Maharashtra than to the traditions of the erstwhile Mysore State in the south. When they were all unified to form the state of Karnataka, these four districts were referred to as North Karnataka. Even though Kannada is the common language of the state, the language of Dharwad and the other three districts has its own accent, intonation and even vocabulary.

  Bijapur, home of the famous Gol Gumbaz, one of the largest domes in the world, is known for its salubrious climate, fertile land and tasty produce. There is a Kannada proverb that says, ‘Once the Doni halla is full of water, the streets of Bijapur are full of jowar.’ Then for the next four to five years, people didn’t have to worry about the crops.

  Karwar is on the west coast and rich in natural resources. The Sahyadri mountains tower over the region.

  Belgaum, situated on the border of Maharashtra and Karnataka, has a lot of Maharashtrian influence and is extremely cultured.

  But Dharwad stands apart. It is a city of hills, education and music. Great exponents of the Kirana gharana belong to this town, it is home to some of the oldest educational institutions, and is known for its peace-loving, literate people. There was a time when people in Karnataka said, ‘If you throw a stone in Dharwad, it will hit either a musician or a writer.’

  Though Hubli is only twenty-two kilometres away, it does not possess the serenity of Dharwad. It is more of a bustling commercial centre for cotton and red chilli trade, among other things.

  In the olden days, some families from this region had helped the Peshwas of Maharashtra. As a token of appreciation they were given some lands in the area. Having hereditary ownership, these lands were passed from one generation to the next. As a result, the landlords had different titles and over a period of time, the titles became the surnames of those families, like, Deshpande, Jahagirdar, Inamdar, Desai.

  Until a few decades back, these landlords, including the Deshpandes, used to own vast lands which were tilled by the landless labour they employed. Most of the time the landlords did not even visit their fields. And yet, the people who had worked for them for years could never hope to own even a tiny piece of the land. Since they considered themselves aristocrats, the landowners did not believe in working. They spent their time indulging themselves in all sorts of bad habits. It was a purely patriarchal society where the head of the family decided everything—be it arranging a marriage, making a donation to a temple or an ordinary household matter. The women were always in the background, suppressed, and subservient, irrespective of their age.

  After India got independence and land reforms were introduced, most of these landowners lost much of their property. Suddenly they found their incomes drastically reduced, and their existence, that of the lower middle class. They had not cultivated; neither did they know any skills nor were they used to hard work. But their family pride, arrogance and ego remained as before. They were like a torn Banaras saree.

  Though Shrimati and Shrikant had such a common cultural background, their temperaments were very different. Once upon a time their families had everything, but today they had nothing more than a huge ancestral house and a few pieces of land. They found it hard to maintain the old house, but they couldn’t abandon it and live elsewhere. It was an issue of family prestige.

  Though they were neighbours, their forefathers always fought like cats and dogs, at the slightest provocation. Actually it was their mountain-like egos that was responsible for the continued enmity.

  Another bone of contention was that the two families belonged to different sects—one family worshipped Shiva and was called Smartha, the other was a Vishnu devotee and hence, Vaishnava. While this was not an issue for the men, it was a major factor for the women to fight. The end result was that there was no communication at all between the two families.

  Shrimati’s grandmother Rindakka should have been born in a kshatriya, or warrior family, for she was extremely aggressive. She was ready to fight with anybody, anytime, anywhere! She did not even require a reason, because she disagreed with everything. People used to say that her poor husband Bindappa could not put up with his wife and so had died at an early age.

  But the truth was that Bindappa had died because he was old and had been a slave of many vices. Although he was rich, he was arrogant, uneducated and chauvinistic. Rindakka was his third wife. They had only one son, Shrikant. Rindakka had become a widow at a very young age and probably that had made her frustrated and irritable. Though she was uneducated, she was an intelligent lady.

  Shrikant grew up like his father but with an education. He was not very bright, and extremely lazy. It took him several years to complete his degree course, and when he did, no one would give him a job. He was not too keen to find one either. So, he stayed in Hubli though he was jobless! His daily routine was to wake up anytime after 10 a.m., play cards, get home and relax. Never in his life had he earned a single paisa. Rindakka had hoped that marriage would make him responsible.

  As is customary in North Karnataka, a marriage alliance would not go beyond the four districts. It is very unlikely that one marries across the Tungabhadra. Hence, from the neighbouring city of Dharwad the educated Kamala was chosen.

  By the time Kamala came to her husband’s house, all the lands had disappeared due to the Tenancy Act. Though the economic situation became very delicate the pride and arrogance of the family remained intact. Sensitive Kamala gauged the situation quickly and took up a teaching job at a local school. She was the sole breadwinner for the family now. But still, Rindakka would show her authority as a mother-in-law and utter pungent words that would hurt her. Kamala, an introvert, never said anything. She neither looked down upon her husband nor defied her mother-in-law.

  After many years of Shrikant and Kamala’s marriage, Shrimati was born and indeed, she brought a change in their lives. Though Shrikantrao Deshpande paid no attention to his wife, he would always be concerned about his daughter.

  Shrimati grew up with a jobless father, a domineering grandmother and a timid, loving mother. Kamala took utmost care to bring Shrimati up with strong values and a good education. Shrimati inherited her love for literature from her mother and even as a child spoke pure Kannada. But she would argue with her grandmother and also question her father. She grew up a bright, extremely accommodating but introverted young girl.

  Her neighbour Shrikant Deshpande had a different story.

  Shrikant’s family were Smarthas. His father Raghanna Deshpande was a shade better than his neighbour Shrikant Deshpande. But he died when his son was still in middle school. He had been a clerk at the post office. Gangakka, his wife, was a cunning, manipulative, fierce and an extremely practical lady. Raghanna had left behind two children. The elder child, Rama, was an average-looking girl and not at all a good student, whereas the younger one, Shrikant, was good-looking and very intelligent. He was the apple of his mother’s eye! She had pinned all her dreams on him.

  Normally, quarrels would arise between Rindakka and Gangakka, the difference in age being no barrier. Gangakka was actually Kamala’s age but because of her reticent nature, Kamala didn’t fight with anybody.

  Gangakka had an older brother, Sheenappa. He was a sweet-talker but a very shrewd man. He was the only one who had stood by Gangakka when her husband passed away. No one but himself had known the reason then. He had four ugly daughters and he had an eye on Shrikant, hoping that at some point in time, he would be able to get Shrikant to marry one of his daughters. Otherwise, he was not a man to help a single person without a vested interest.

  Rama took longer than usual to complete her degree. As she was not good-looking, it was a little difficult to find a groom for her. With great difficulty, Sheenappa finally found one and soon, Rama was happily married. When she gave birth to a son, it was treated like quite an achievement.
Gangakka felt that her daughter was very fortunate.

  Shrikant was unlike his sister Rama who had inherited all the bad qualities of their mother. But Shrikant was focused on his studies and didn’t care about the rivalry between the two families, or Sheenappa’s role in their lives.

  In the space between the two houses, there was a bakula tree. The bakula is about the size of a neem tree and has a lovely canopy of dark green leaves. The tree lives for at least a hundred years, and the more it rains, the more flowers it bears. The bakula flower is very unusual—it is tiny, pale greenish-brown in colour, and is shaped like a crown. As flowers go, it is unattractive, but it has a divine fragrance. Even when the flowers dry and become brown the mild fragrance remains. When the tree is in bloom, the flowers form a carpet on the ground beneath it. The bakula flower is a favourite of the gods too!

  It was May end and the hot summer of Hubli was coming to an end. The ripe fruits on the mango tree hinted the end of the mango season. Farmers eagerly awaited Shravan, the rainy season—a season that brings happiness to nature as well as human beings. There are so many poems written and sung about Shravan in Dharwad. It is indeed an inspiration for poets, but a hurdle for young mothers and the aged!

  The bakula tree stood gracefully, as usual, spreading its fragrance. It was evening, and the flowers lay on the ground, forming a carpet of blossoms.

  Gangakka Deshpande had a small house in a big compound. She and her husband had wanted to extend it once they became prosperous, but unfortunately that never happened. Though Gangakka had a bitter tongue, she was hardworking. She did not waste her time after she finished her cooking. She had made a beautiful garden, with many flowering bushes and vegetable plants. It was a part of her ritual to wake up early in the morning, pick flowers and make a garland, to offer at the temple of Railway Eshwar. This was irrespective of the season. She believed that this kind of deed would bring prosperity and happiness to her children.

  But Gangakka was very unhappy about one thing, and that was the bakula tree. It stood exactly in the middle of the common compound of the two houses, indicating that it belonged to both of them. Not only did it give flowers, it also gave the best shade. And that’s what made Gangakka angry. Nothing would grow in that shade. She thought the tree was a nuisance, that it took up a lot of space. In Gangakka’s dictionary, everything was measured in terms of usefulness. Be it a human being or some material. So, the tree became a bone of contention between the two families. She would keep telling her neighbour to cut off the tree so that she could grow more plants and get some sunshine too.

  Shrikant’s room faced the bakula tree. Throughout the year, the mild scent of the bakula wafted in through his window. He had developed a special attachment to these flowers and so he opposed his mother’s idea of cutting the tree.

  On the other side, nobody except Shrimati had the time to tend the garden. Her father, Shrikantrao Deshpande, had no time for any work, let alone looking after the bakula tree. Kamala would always be busy with her school work and Rindakka was an old woman.

  Rindakka did not want to cut the tree, not because she loved bakulas, but because Gangakka wanted to. In spite of the battle between these two fierce women, the bakula continued to bloom every day.

  FOUR

  It was the day the tenth standard board exam results were to be announced. After the last exam Shrimati had told her mother that she had done fairly well. She was not the kind who would exaggerate, be it success or disappointment.

  Shrikant had told his mother that he had done extremely well and was also expecting a rank.

  More than Shrimati, her friends who had bet on many things, were worried. Even the teachers were wondering what rank Shrimati and Shrikant would get. They were undoubtedly the most talented students in the school. Either way, the school would get the credit for getting a rank. At home, Gangakka and Rindakka were waiting to know the results too.

  Shrimati was the only one who was not at all perturbed. She was neither bent upon doing better than Shrikant nor did she look upon her success as a matter of family honour and pride. It was true that she was brighter than Shrikant, but exam results did not always reflect or depend upon intelligence.

  Though Shrimati was so young, she had the equanimity of an ascetic. Over the years, she had sometimes scored more marks than Shrikant, at others he had beaten her scores. She had taken it in her stride. So, that day’s outcome did not hold any anxiety for her. But Shrikant was restless and impatient for the results. Holding a bakula in his palm, he was wondering why he was fascinated by this tiny flower. The flower was neither as beautiful as a rose nor had the fragrance of a jasmine or champaka. And yet, it was always very special to him. It held an inexplicable attraction for him.

  Shrikant remembered many ancient stories that connected the bakula with romance. It seems in the olden days, when young men travelled far distances for many days, they would carry small objects in memory of their loved ones. The bakula flower was one such memento that these young men carried, because, even though it would dry up, it would still give out the same fragrance, like the beloved’s love.

  Without realizing it, Shrikant had come to associate the bakula flower with Shrimati. It is true that they hardly ever spoke to each other, but it was equally true that there was a strange attraction between them. Perhaps it was their age—adolescence—or the teasing of their friends or just the way their names conjugated! Of course, it was Shrikant who was more attracted towards Shrimati than she was to him. Though Shrikant was the more extroverted of the two, and he often wondered what was in Shrimati’s mind, he wasn’t outspoken enough to ask her.

  Only Shrikant and Gangakka were at home. Gangakka was aware that the results were due to come and so she thought she would light ghee lamps to please the gods. There was a lot of ghee at home and since Shrikant would not eat it, Gangakka used it for the lamps.

  There was a knock on the door and when Gangakka saw it was the postman bearing a telegram, she became very nervous. It reminded her of her husband’s death. For her, a telegram would always bring bad news. Holding the telegram in her hand, she prayed to god to forgive her for using the rancid ghee and promised that she would use the fresh one, if this telegram did not turn out to bear bad news!

  In a trembling voice, she called Shrikant and handed the telegram to him. ‘Shrikant, here is a telegram. See whether it is from Byadagi?’

  Byadagi was the small village where her daughter Rama stayed with her husband, Krishna. Gangakka could think only of her daughter. Her horizon was extremely limited.

  Shrikant was equally curious to know what it was. He opened it quickly, glanced through it and said to his mother in a delighted voice, ‘Avva, this telegram is from the Bangalore SSLC Board. I have stood second in the entire Board.’

  Gangakka did not understand what that meant. All she was interested in was whether he was first in the school.

  ‘Shrikant, are you first in the school or not? Have you scored more than Shrimati? Who has taken the first place?’

  Shrikant smiled at his mother’s ignorance.

  ‘Avva, I have stood second in the entire state and ought to be first in the Hubli Centre and of course our school. I don’t know about Shrimati, but she wouldn’t have scored more than me! You know, now I can get a full scholarship and you need not struggle for my education.’

  Shrikant was very happy indeed.

  Gangakka remembered her late husband and her eyes became moist.

  ‘Shrikant, Lord Mylaralinga has blessed us. He has always been kind to you . . .’

  But Shrikant was still getting used to the idea of having done so well. He had never expected to get the second rank. At the most, he was expecting to be one among the first twenty. Now he was most curious as to who had got the first rank. It must be someone from Mysore or Bangalore, he thought.

  Then his thoughts turned to Shrimati. What rank had she got? A tap on his shoulder shook him out of his reverie. He turned around to see his teacher Mr Kulkarni.
He was beaming with pride. His usual paan-stained mouth was unusually clean that day. In his happiness he seemed to have forgotten to eat his paan.

  Thumping Shrikant on his back, he said, ‘Shrikant, you both have made a record! In the entire history of the school, such a thing has not happened. The Board has informed us that Shrimati has stood first, and you second! You have given us a wonderful reward for having taught you! Generally, the first and second ranks do not go to the same school. But we have been fortunate to be the first school to get the top two places in the same year . . .’

  Shrikant’s mind went numb. Mr Kulkarni’s chatter continued, but Shrikant did not hear a word. Had a thunderbolt struck him or had he touched a live wire?

  He couldn’t believe what Mr Kulkarni had told him. His bubble of happiness vanished and he was close to tears. But he controlled himself. Men were not supposed to shed tears in front of others!

  He felt like Arjuna in the Mahabharata who was so focused on his archery skills that if he ever missed his aim, he suffered unbearable agony.

  Just then Gangakka came in and told Kulkarni Sir that he must at least have some sweets since he had brought the good news. But he said that he wanted to go and see Shrimati and that he would come back later.

  Absent-mindedly Shrikant said namaskar to his teacher and went back to his own thoughts. His mind was pricking him: Shrikant Deshpande, you have missed your target. You had dismissed Shrimati as a mere girl, but silently and soberly that girl has given you a powerful answer! She has shown you what she is capable of. Shrikant tried to analyse the reason for his unhappiness and disappointment. What had gone wrong?

  Actually, nothing had gone wrong. The cause for his disappointment was her success. Though he had scored more marks than he had expected or hoped for, Shrimati had scored more than him. Was he ever going to be free of this Shrimati? Would she always be a challenge to him, and in her calm, smiling way, defeat him? What would he say to Ravi and Mallesh now, after boasting to them that he was smarter than her?