Binni would say, ‘You’ll get beaten, I will chop off your ear, I will summon and get you caught by the juju.’
At this, the drawing room would be engulfed in roars of laughter. Chaubeyji had never been so childlike in his life! Whenever he came back home, he made sure to bring some gift for Binni and the moment he stepped inside, he’d call out for Binni, ‘Binni beti, let’s go.’
And Binni would come running along and sit on his lap.
One day Mangala was sitting with Binni when Chaubeyji arrived. As usual Binni ran to him. Chaubeyji asked, ‘Whose daughter are you?’
Binni: ‘I won’t say.’
Mangala: ‘Tell him that you are jiji’s daughter.’
Chaubeyji: ‘Binni, are you my daughter or hers?’
Binni: ‘I won’t say.’
Chaubeyji: ‘Okay, we are sitting with our eyes closed; whoever’s daughter Binni is, she should go and sit on his or her lap.’
Binni got up and went to sit on Chaubeyji’s lap.
Chaubeyji: ‘She is my daughter, my daughter; (to his wife) now you won’t say that she is your daughter.’
Mangala: ‘Okay, go, Binni, I won’t give you sweets any more; I won’t even get a doll for you.’
Binni: ‘Bhaiyaji will get those for me; I won’t give them to you.’
Chaubeyji laughed and hugged Binni to his chest and carried her along outside. He wanted his good friends to have a taste of this childhood playfulness.
From that day onwards if anybody asked Binni whose daughter she was, she would promptly reply, ‘Bhaiya’s.’
Once Binni’s own father came and took her along to his house. Binni cried her eyes out. Even Chaubeyji spent his days restlessly. Not even a month had passed when he went to his in-laws’ place and brought Binni back with him. Binni forgot about her own mother and father completely. She had come to regard Chaubeyji as her father and Mangala as her mother. Those who gave birth to her were now strangers to her.3
Many years went by. Chaubeyji’s sons got married. Two of his sons, along with their families, went away to different districts to practise law. The other two were studying in college. Binni, too, bloomed into youth like a flower. There was not a single girl in the entire community with such beauty, talent and personality—she was good at studies, skilful at household chores, deft at embroidery and stitching, adept in the art of cooking, sweet-mouthed, coy and beautiful. A dark room was lit by the rays of her divine beauty. In the redness of dawn, in the heart-stealing splendour of moonlight, in the dewdrops that shine when reflected by the sun’s rays upon a rose in bloom, there isn’t the life-giving exquisite beauty or radiance that was Binni’s; in the white snow-capped mountains there isn’t the coolness that was there in Binni’s, which is to say, Vindheshwari’s large eyes.
Chaubeyji started to look for a worthy groom for Binni. He had fulfilled his heart’s wishes in the weddings of his sons. Now he wanted to satisfy his ambition in his daughter’s wedding. He had acquired fame by splurging his wealth, now he wanted to be known for bestowing gifts and a sizeable dowry. It is easy to organize a son’s wedding but to maintain one’s reputation in a daughter’s wedding is difficult. Everybody can cross the river by a boat, but the one who swims across deserves praise.
There was no dearth of wealth. A good house and a suitable groom were found. The horoscopes were matched, the stars were favourable. The rituals of fruit offering and tilak had been done. But alas, the misfortune! When the preparations for the wedding were in full swing, the tailor, the jeweller, the sweet-maker, and everybody else was doing their work right there in the courtyard, cruel fate played a totally different game! Just a week before the wedding, Mangala suddenly fell ill and within a span of three days she left for the other world taking all her hopes along with her.
It was evening. Mangala was lying on the charpoy. Everybody—sons, daughter-in-laws, grandchildren—stood encircling the four corners of the charpoy. Binni was massaging Mangala’s feet at the foot of the charpoy. The terrible silence that is characteristic of the hour of death prevailed. No one spoke; everybody knew in their hearts what was going to happen. Only Chaubeyji was not there.
Suddenly Mangala started looking around the room frantically. Her eyes wistful, she said, ‘Call him for a minute, where’s he?’
Chaubeyji was in his room in a mournful state. As soon as he got the message, he wiped his tears and entered the room and with great equanimity stood in front of Mangala. He feared that if he shed even a single tear his entire house would break into a tumult.
Mangala said, ‘Let me ask you something—don’t take offence—who is Binni to you?’
Chaubeyji: ‘Who is Binni? Why, she is my daughter. What else would she be?’
‘Yes, that is what I wanted to hear. Always think of her as your own daughter. Whatever arrangements I had made for her wedding, make sure nothing of it is cut and chipped.’
’Don’t worry about it. God willing, the wedding will be conducted with more pomp and show than what has been planned.’
‘Let her come here for occasional visits. Don’t forget her during Teej and other festivals.’
‘There’s no need to remind me of these things.’
Mangala thought for a moment and then said, ‘Marry her off this very year.’
‘How is it possible this year?’
‘This is the month of Phagun. The lagan is till Jeth.’
‘If it’s possible I’ll do it this year.’
‘No, promise me you will do it this year.’
‘I’ll do it.’
They began
