The land Khokhapur, in which this tale; my tale is based in, is a small agricultural hamlet in Haryana, a northern agrarian state in India.
There are about 80-90 families residing here since many centuries now and it suffices to say that our village isn't any different than a typical crude hamlet of peasants and feudal lords. What's different though is our village is known for its hardy men and their proud history of serving in the Indian armed forces.
But it's always a village that bears the cost of a war and as history very well knows, we have had several painful ones and they have taken a toll, a frightful one, for all of us.
Our family is considered fairly rich among the native people of Khokhapur. We have always owned more than ample land in the village, where we have grown wheat and maize in plenty. We live in a large but antiquated spread out bungalow that is made up of five medium sized houses arranged in a large circle, connected to one another by common walls but has separate entrances to each house from the inner circle only. These houses were all made of stone bricks, may be 2 centuries ago, build together inside one large compound wall at-least 20 feet high, to stop meddling lowly peasants from interfering.
We have always been very private about our affairs and our family.
The compound wall is also made out of stone bricks. It has a tall solid black-rusted iron gate as a single entrance to all five houses.
There are also another 10 small houses to accommodate the various servants who have been serving the household since a long time, but they are located towards the distant left side corner area of the property, with a large bamboo forest and a century old well that separates the main compound from theirs.
We have a common terrace joining the circular compound, but the stairs were built only from the main house, so that the patriarch or his man-servants only can utilise the terrace at night to oversee distant lying agri fields on all sides of the house. This was done primarily during the crop cutting season to keep the guards vigilant and alert them to any thief or miscreants from other villages trying to steal or burn the ripe crops. It was like a vantage point. There is a small room on the terrace with a cot or two and ropes and kerosene and other such things for flaming torches to warn the guards.
The porch of the five houses all open inward to an open aired brick layered field where the crops and the grains are stored after winnowing them in the fields. It also serves up as a common tittle-tattle area for the ladies and servants.
During the hot months of summer, sometimes the family would sleep on the cots in the open.
Let me introduce the family before I proceed further.
I, Sangeeta Devi, live with my mother-in-law Kavita Devi, in the second house that was on the left side. I am a widow of an army captain, Anandpal Singh, who was 10 years elder to me when we were married off by our parents. He was an energetic hardy man and a loving husband.
But to my ill-gotten luck, he was martyred 18 years ago when our child, Arjun was only 2 years old and still feeding at my ample breasts.
I am 39 years old and when I wistfully look back at myself now, it doesn't feel that long when I was still a virile busty young woman in love with a darling hunk of a husband and a beautiful angelic son.
Arjun is my only child and also the only able male in our family.
Arjun, 21 years old & my beautiful son has grown up to be a splitting image of his father and to my great delight has also quickly taken up the responsibility of the feudal lordship and also that of the household.
Since Arjun turned 18, he has occupied the central house facing the main gate.
It was vacated by Kavita Devi after the death of the patriarchal head, her husband, late Choudhary Harpal Singh.
My mother-in-law moved in with me after his death, as the central house is ritually occupied by the head of the family, which my darling son has grown up to be.
On Arjun's left side is the house of Amritpal Singh, younger brother of my beloved dead husband, who has been posted in Kashmir where he was involved in a grenade attack on his convoy two years ago. Since then, he has retired to the village as a paralytic cripple, more or less, & spends most of his awake time in the outhouse amongst the servant quarters on his hookah and country made whiskey.
Amrit's wife, my co-sister, Sharmila Devi resides in the house mainly. She's my closest confidante and a cheerful woman in spite of all her troubles. She's 37 years old but unfortunately barren since marriage, which is a big curse in our culture. She loves Arjun like her own son and always manages to pamper him. Since childhood, Arjun would spend more time at her house than ours.
I still don't know who Arjun is closer, between the two of us.
Another reason why I am so proud of my son is because when Amrit came back from the Army and wanted to separate from Sharmila, Arjun insisted to let her stay in our house, although Amrit bhai never wished to see her here.
Barren women are not even the equivalent of lowly maid servants in rural India and I shudder to think of what would have happened to Sharmila's life if Arjun didn't have his way. She is still so young in my eyes. Arjun makes us proud every day.
On the right side of Arjun's central house, resides Ashwini Devi, Arjun's aunt & youngest sister of Anand and Amrit, along with her husband Karanpal. Ashwini Devi is 3 years elder to me but has aged gracefully and is still today a stunning beauty. We don't have a good talking relationship though. She always maintained that I am cursed & still blames my bad luck for Anand's death, Amrit's crippling injury and Sharmila's infertility.
Till this day she won't' talk to me with a straight face, and this used to hurt a lot. I have never had any bad eye on them and always wish good things for everyone including their family. They have a beautiful daughter together, who was recently married to a distant cousin of Sharmila, from a nearby village in Hisar district.
My mother-in-law, Kavita Devi decided that after marriage, they should stay in our house as we had a vacant fifth house, second on the right side. Another reason is as we were short of members in the family, Anand opined that it benefits if we have more trusted hands to help to oversee the many different petty jobs.
So Saina, Ashwini's daughter and her husband Sukhiram have been residing with us since almost a year. Sukhiram mostly oversees the field work and Karanpal manages the accounting stuff, mostly from his work room in their house.
Like all big joint families, we have our share of the skeletons in cupboard and I am privy to a dark secret since many years now and my heart is burdened with the knowledge of it.
How can I forget that hot windless & restless night of June, last year?
...
It was unbearably hot that whole month and even after two cold showers, I wasn't able to sleep. My bedroom window opens towards the inner centre and I had kept it open that night.
From there I have an unrestricted vision of Arjun's house, as any doting mother would like to have. I was continuously tossing and turning on my bed and finally gave up.
It was almost 3 in the night and the whole house was eerily silent. It was a moonlit night and I thought I will sit in the inner facing porch and look at the night sky for a bit to soothe my restless nerves.
