The green suit / rano

It wasn’t so difficult once you got around to doing it. It was just the question of dynamics of picking up the weight and heaving the gunny sack full of potatoes on her back. Her mother could, her friends could do it and to say the least her grandmother could also pick her share thus ensuring her dihaari( daily wage) . The meticulous, watchful eye of Santosh kept an almost fanatical count of the bags they picked up and any slack was accounted and no leverage was given by him, all excuses fell to deaf ears.Rano had her eyes on the black and green salwar kameez which was being sold by the pheri wala every Saturday under the peepal tree. She had seen it for the first time, last week when they were hurriedly being taken back to their temporary camp in the fields next to the cold store. She knew it would look beautiful when she wore it and maybe Jeeto would like at her with a smile. Her tender, innocent heart had found its first love in the Palledar Jeeto who was the object of everyone’s desire at the store. He belonged to the same caste as her ..from Bhindian Saidan near Amritsar. She knew the dangers of falling in love with anyone who did not belong to her caste. It just meant instant death. Her father, uncles, older brother watched her with an eagle eye, and did not even let her visit the ‘Ghora wal baba” with her friends.
Rano, showed great promise to being a beauty when she grew up. Right now she was the tender, young nubile girl who had just reached her puberty and was catching everyone’s roving eyes. Her rustic beauty and her fair complexion along with her brown eyes which stared into you, not knowing when to avert her gaze she made men uncomfortable. The rights and wrongs were unknown to her; that would come when she had a ‘meaningful talk ‘with her mother later. A young girl blossoming like a flower in the bright sun caught everyone’s fancy. Her tinkling laugh and all her mannerisms just drew you to her. There were rumors of her being Sardarji’s illegitimate daughter as she did not even resemble anyone in her family. Her mother always tightlipped, with no sign of any emotion in her just lived every day as if waiting for death. Seeto which was her name had worked as a maid in her younger days in the village in Amritsar and had been married in haste and shipped off to Jalandhar to live her life with her recently widowed husband. Nothing was known about them, just that they worked in the fields, and his sons had also been sucked into the same existence.
Rano, started working in the fields and then the store to handle potatoes. It was harvest time and this year she would have to pitch in, earning a bigger wage by picking the bags too. Her father had told her in the morning over breakfast which consisted of watery tea and double roti or mitthe rusk if they had had money to spare, that now she was strong enough to pick up the bags and thus would help increasing the family’s income. Rano , wondered how she would pick up the bag? It was heavy, laden with dead weight of potatoes, and heaving it or holding it her on head with one head, keeping the duppatta in place and then to walk the distance, she smiled remembering the nautanki of the monkeys. She would have to become a bandari, it seemed! Oh! There was a brighter aspect to, every two weeks her mother would give her one dihaari i.e. 100 rs to spend. She could buy anything she wished, spend it on those orange yummy toffees, sticky ones or eat the pakoras available at the corner shop, buy bindis, and even save it to buy a new chappal and not a hand-me-down. It also meant the arrival of a new status. She was an adult, ready to share the burden of the family. Life was harsh; it thrust you into its bosom at the not so young old age of 14years. Old enough to work but young to make any decisions, she thought in her mind. She was scared of her father so just kept on dipping the rusk into her tea kept on nodding her head. He also said,’koi puuttha kam na karien”. As if she didn’t know the dangers of talking or doing anything with the boys. It was an unwritten rule in their family near and extended that if a girl was found cavorting with a boy she was married off and if any evidence was found or even the mere hint of intimacy was found she was killed mysteriously… no explanations or questions. There was never a second chance. This unwritten code bore down on every girl like a noose and they were weary of their fathers or uncles who watched them over like a hawk.
Rano , she knew she was on the cusp of adulthood which had its hidden promises , tantalized her seduced her into venturing into a world where all kinds of emotions came to surface. How could she explain, that looking at Jeeto made her want to defy her father? Or, that she wanted to visit the Ghode wala Jagah where all the boys and girls could slyly, yet freely talk under the guise of prayers. It was said that if a young unmarried girl visited the sacred place with a plastic horse for consecutive seven thursdays , her wish would come true. Oh! How she wanted to fulfill this particular vow, so that she could win over Jeeto. He epitomized all that was lacking in her life; love, freedom, romance.
She went to the store, sitting on the tractor trolley wondering how she would finish her quota of bags allotted to her. Well, she’d have to work; otherwise she would bring embarrassment to her father who worked outside in the machine room. The silver lining was that jeeto worked in tandem with their group, and she had worn her good suit and worn kajal to look attractive. A young heart cries with a thousand emotions, the object of one’s desire so near yet so far.
The day started as any ordinary day, no bugles, no fan fare heralding her elevation to an adult, her increase in duties or the fact that she was contributing to the family income by rs 100 every day. Picking up the first bag broke her back, there was a particular way when the bag was put on one’s back it hit you in the middle and one felt that walking even one step was difficult. How she wished, that the stupid, fat ugly Santosh would pick up one bag and try to walk the distance, maintaining the pace, speed and also trying to balance the weight? This carried on for hours, it seemed. Every bone, muscle in her body cried for relief. Forget Jeeto, she didn’t even want to look at anyone. The pain, agony was indescribable. It started off as backbreaking and settled in like a dull pain like a scab which refused to heal. What was all this talk of adulthood, the false promise of money, allure seduction was just a trap to fool her into working herself to a death? The chemicals applied on the potatoes hennaed her hands to a new shade of purple blue, ugly just like bruises. That night, she didn’t eat or talk just cried herself to sleep, the aches finally dulling her to an uneasy sleep.
This all continued till she had become hardened into the rest of them, the ink –blue kept on darkening, a reminder of the erosion of the fate lines. She felt her days started with the quota of potato bags, mingled with a few smiles with her friends and carried on drearily. The only time she felt her heart quicken was looking at Jeeto who was oblivious to her. He had however looked in her direction when they were giggling the other day a raunchy joke which had everyone in splits; over sahibji and the local thekadarni. She felthis gaze whenever he was nearby and she would steal glances at him . her friends would keep on whispering ,’dekh la’. She would smile and would keep on working. It seemed ever sice that day her spirits had been lifeted, ther was aquickness inher step,it seemed as if the burden wasa just a light load and she wondered why she made a fuss about it.
The pheriwala had still kept her suit an dshe anted to buy it today with the money which was rightfully hers. Masterji, was goingto hand it in the evening, chutti time. This was one day allowed to her and her friends where they could roam around in the village and walk back to their camp later on. She wanted to buy the suit, wear it for him the next day, knowing that the colors would look great on her. Everyone from mindho chichi, to pasho the one tooth mai to her friends told her that black made her sohni’, hor vi sohni….
She bought the suit, took it with her home wrapped in the old newspaper and she knew tomorrow would be different. She would wear the suit, it would fit her tightly, and accentuating her curves and it had a special dori at the back to tie. The salwar was made in the latest style, it had a piping on the side contrasting with black the brightness of lime green shocked. She wanted to look desirable in his eyes, to make him want her, she thought. It would mean an escape from this menial labor, if she could marry him. A palledar earned much more and their wives never worked in the store. She showed the suit to her mother who knew with a mother’s intuition what was happening. Mothers are mysterious, all knowing, how so ever a child may try to hide or think that they know better. She said, ‘don’t wear the suit to the store, and keep it for a special occasion.’ It will be spoilt; working in the dust and the dawaai”
Rano, shrugged her shoulders and mumbled, no, no it’ll be all right. We all are planning to wear something new tomorrow for work. Her mother looked at her, resigned to the fate that her daughter was growing up fast, too fast. This time, tide waited for no one. She walked away to go and attend to the evening meal. Rano ran behind her to go and help in the meal. She knew if she helped her in the chores, next morning her attitude would be softened towards her. Her only aim was to wear the suit tomorrow so that Jeeto would start looking at her.
Next morning came, the dawn heralding a new day. She had uncontainable excitement as she wore the new suit, applying kajal and eyeing herself in the half-broken mirror. She wrapped the duppatta tightly, so that her father would not remark at her. It was a bit tight, but she felt beautiful, attractive and she borrowed her mother’s chappals leaving behind her twice mended jooti which was scuffed, dirty and falling apart despite the twine wrapped around one of them.
Today she felt special, grown up, viewing the world with different eyes ready to defy the norms and for once to give into her emotions for once. To try to talk to him, she had been building dreams for so long and her friends had stolen romances with so many boys, nothing had happened to them It was also simple just a little stroll when went to attend nature ‘s call . No one stopped you or questioned you, but you had to take one girl with you. She planned on taking Banti, her childhood friend who would not tell anyone. She was going to pass on the message to him asking him to meet them outside after half time. This was the laziest, slowest time of the day, everyone was half-asleep, work was at its lowest and every supervisor looked for a chair to snooze the 20 minutes before the rush of the evening. She hoped he would agree and something would culminate with her taking all the risk and the bold overture.
He did and she kept on glancing at the big clock in the shed. The time passed so slowly, she could hardly concentrate on her work, and avoided picking up any bag, for the fear of dirtying her clothes. Everyone kept on ribbing her, passing comments on her figure, her looks and she kept on smiling and laughing.
They went out, to go behind the store where he was supposed to meet them next to the motor. And, there he was standing and looking at her, with amazement. He came forward to meet her and she suddenly got all tongue-tied, all shy. He came closer and Banti slipped away giggling and warning her to be careful.
It was like a dream come true, he spoke so sweetly, teasing her that why did she never come to the village shops or the square. He asked for her mobile number, to which she replied that she had no phone. Ashamed, she averted her eyes. He took her hand and held it, promising her one the next time she met him. Rano was stunned, he would give her phone, and she would be the toast amongst her friends. Smiling at him, she didn’t realize when he came close and started to touch her in a way which was foreign, invasive. She knew what he was going to but she knew stepping into the circle would lead to shame and she would be labeled as easy..
And that would slowly filter to her brother. How could she explain to Jeeto the wrath of her brothers, the scorn and the punishment if anything was heard of her in the village? She wanted to be with him, this forbidden passion was enticing to her, something was pulling towards him and she gave into his arms.
Just the very moment she gave in, her brother s friend happened to pass by and saw Jeeto’s back and said Hun kedi eh? Hearing this she was startled and she jumped out of his arms, to suddenly look into her brother’s friends eyes. Just her luck, she ran and shouted to Banti that she was going home. Running from the store, thinking of the consequences, wondering if her mother could hide her, whether she would be able to save her tonight from the beating she would get. She knew she would plead her innocence and tell them all that nothing had happened. It all sounded so feeble to her ears but she mentally kept on arguing to and for herself.
She came home to a lock on the door and waited. She knew her mother would be back first, so she would be saved. Whatever might happen she would not let them kill her, she hadn’t even done anything, but she was so afraid. Afraid of the beatings, the abuses, or the fact that they might marry her off in haste to someone. Jeeto would tell them nothing had happened, she thought to herself. Banti was also there, she would corroborate. Wrapping the dupatta tightly around her like a shroud waiting for them to come home. The wait was worse; she didn’t know what would be her fate by nightfall. Her mother came, seeingher sitting there, all tear stricken, eyes with kajal all smeared. She assumed the worst and asked her, “ki hoya”? When she had finished telling the incident, Rano felt her burden lighten, it was an embrace nothing all, nothing illicit had happened she told her again and again. Fibbing a little, she said that he also likes me so, all would work out. Pleading to her to save her she kept on whimpering to her mother to save her this once, promising never to trouble her ever in her life.

The next morning vernacular papers had a small news item which stated that a fire broke out in the temporary camps in the nearby village where a young girl died due to an explosion of the stove, and her mother was badly injured. The news reporter states that the mother was in shock and she clutched in her hands a piece of black dupatta and kept on sobbing incoherently, sobbing Rano , rano.