(Pause.)
I feel lost. I feel I am breaking bit by bit. But don’t worry for me: I shall do what is right. I am tired now. No more games, please. I want everyone to leave. I wish to be alone with my family.
(Exit Rai Saheb, Chitra and Deepak.)
Why did you have to spoil it all, Karan? You have to leave now. You cannot live in this house any longer.
ANSUYA: (Going to her.) Amma …
AMRITA: Help me to my room, Ansu.
ANSUYA: Come, Amma, come.
(Ansuya takes her mother inside. Fade.)
Act Four
[Stage Centre. Opens on Karan, the narrator.]
KARAN: It’s a dangerous game these girls play in boarding school. The next time you have company, I wouldn’t play this game, if I were you. I know, games are a good way to get people off our hands—especially people to whom we have nothing to say. Sometimes, even ourselves. But, do you see the perils of playing games with people? All of us take pride in being practical, realistic people. As realists we have our feet planted solidly on the ground and we plod along, fulfilling our duties, busy with our daily routine. And, at the end of the day, what have we lost? We have lost the essence of life itself. That is why Ansuya was such an unusual girl. She was willing to take risks with herself: with her emotions, with her life. She wanted something out of the ordinary, something different—and she wanted love, in all its lurid splendour and terrible proportions. And Deepak? Well, it’s not as if he did not love Ansuya; he did, in his own way. But his vision of himself was cradled by that apocalyptic mother-figure, Chitra. I suppose we all want love, like Ansuya. We all want romance to touch our lives at least once in our lifetime. Because, love is, among other things, the best way to escape the primal loneliness we were born to suffer. It is the one thing that makes our strange situation in the world acceptable. Yet, we don’t want too much of it, lest it becomes a necessity, like alcohol. And, where there is love, there is pain, a mighty pain. For love isn’t love, unless it is vulnerable. And its loss is a terrible thing. Those who say that death is worse, just don’t know.
Mamu found that out as he left the house the next morning. He wished he could die, and the almost intolerable torment was that he did not.
(Picks up the newspaper.)
Meanwhile, as the Chinese were digging in for a thrust at Se La and Bomdilla, we are pointing fingers at each other. General Kaul and General Thapar didn’t see eye to eye on strategy. Krishna Menon was not sure that we needed American aid. Do you know something? Some of us talk too much and act too little. It is the afternoon of the next day. A bright, fresh, sunny afternoon. The house is still, taut with tension
(Sniffs again, taking short breaths.)
From the aroma in the kitchen it appears that it is almost tea-time. It’s so quiet that you can hear yourself breathing. Wait, someone is talking in the drawing room.
(As the lights come on.)
It is Deepak and Ansuya.
(Fade on Karan. Exit.)
ANSUYA: (Withdrawn, distracted.) … I took Amma to her room and then I must have dozed off in the chair beside her. I was half asleep and then I was dreaming … I can’t be sure, but it was a bad dream. Mamu kept calling me. I was at the bank and he was in the lake, or was it a river? He kept calling me to save him.
(She begins to cry.)
He was drowning and I couldn’t reach him. Oh, it was horrible. He kept calling me.
DEEPAK: (Soothingly.) It was only a dream.
ANSUYA: You know dreams; things get mixed up. I took off my clothes and I jumped into the water. It was cold. The wind was blowing. The blanket kept slipping off.
DEEPAK: Was there anyone else in your dream?
ANSUYA: Yes.
DEEPAK: Who?
ANSUYA: I don’t know. I don’t remember, but I was scared.
DEEPAK: There was no one there.
ANSUYA: There was. I was naked and I didn’t want anyone to see me. The blanket kept slipping.
DEEPAK: (Changing the subject.) How are the others?
ANSUYA: Amma has been alone in her room all day. Mamu was up all night and, early this morning, he quietly left for the station. I’m afraid for him. My poor, dear Mamu.
DEEPAK: What time did his train leave?
ANSUYA: Ten o’clock.
(Pause.)
I am afraid. What will I do if something happens to him?
DEEPAK: Don’t worry. Nothing will happen to your Mamu.
ANSUYA: You have such a lovely voice, Deepak. It is so sure and confident. It gives me strength.
(She goes up to embrace him. He withdraws slightly.)
DEEPAK: Ma should have been back from the club by now.
ANSUYA: You and your mother …
DEEPAK: It is late. She should have been back. How long do these lunches last, yaar?
ANSUYA: What about us, Deepak? When are we going to tell everyone?
DEEPAK: Tell what?
ANSUYA: About my going to Bombay.
DEEPAK: I have to speak to Ma.
ANSUYA: But I have to ask Amma too.
DEEPAK: Wait, let me speak to Ma first.
ANSUYA: You sound scared.
DEEPAK: No, yaar.
ANSUYA: What’s wrong? You were so sure last night. Deepak, tell me about Bombay and your ideas about the hotel. It will cheer us both up.
DEEPAK: I’m tired, Anu.
ANSUYA: What’s the matter?
DEEPAK: Nothing.
ANSUYA: I want to hold you.
(She goes close to him. Again, he withdraws.)
DEEPAK: I’m tired.
ANSUYA: Let’s go to Bombay.
DEEPAK: What’s the hurry, yaar?
ANSUYA: Let’s go away quickly.
DEEPAK: Why?
ANSUYA: I don’t want
