DEEPAK: (Resigned.) You will never understand …
CHITRA: I want my son to rise above the stink of his father’s life.
DEEPAK: No, Ma.
CHITRA: (Sarcastically.) No, Ma? Theek hai beta, theek hai. Aaj to tu bahut sayana ho gaya hai na? Apni Ma se bhi zyada! Theek hai. You bring up a boy with all your love you snatch from the father to give to the son.
DEEPAK: You were wrong to do that.
CHITRA: (Not comprehending.) You bring him into the world in suffering. You feed him from your own breast. You stay awake at nights so that he can sleep. And when he wets the bed, you pick him up and put him on the dry side and yourself sleep on that wet side. You wear the same dirty rags, so that he can go to school.
DEEPAK: Enough, Ma!
CHITRA: No! Do you know what I have done for you today?
DEEPAK: What?
CHITRA: Main abhi kahan se aa rahi hoon, tujhe pata hai?.
DEEPAK: Yes, yes, I know. You went to the Club with Rai Saheb.
CHITRA: Haan. Rai Saheb ke saath gai zaroor thi. But not the Club. To his house. Ek ghanta unke saath bita kar aa rahi hoon! Samjhe?
DEEPAK: What? You mean …? (The realization of what she has done dawns on him.)
No, Ma! No!
CHITRA: Oh, yes!
DEEPAK: (Horrified.) No, Ma!
CHITRA: Oh, yes, Ma!
DEEPAK: God!
CHITRA: What a mother will not do for her own son! And this is my reward, ji. After all my sacrifice, I get a pauper for a daughter-in-law. It is a fate worse than death. Tu ja, ja—us hoor pari ke saath gulchharre uda. Just do one thing before you go—take me to the ghat and perform my funeral!
(And she begins to howl. Slowly the howling gets louder.)
DEEPAK: Quiet Ma, please!
CHITRA: (Sitting down and wailing) Main to lut hi gayi! Lut hi gayi!
DEEPAK: Shh … please!
CHITRA: Aa, beta, aa! Let me tell you something. We’ll get only one pandit, and save money! In the morning he will marry you, in the evening he will burn me. Beta, there’s a knife lying there. Bring the knife, and cut my throat with it.
DEEPAK: (Suddenly losing control.) Quiet, Ma!
(Deepak collapses on the floor near his mother. Clearly, something has snapped within him.)
You’ll have your way! You always have!
(Lights begin to change gradually as Deepak changes into a little boy.)
Ever since I was a little boy. I was a regular teachers’ pet, the kind everybody hates. I would come running home from school, clutching 80 per cent marks in my hand, the good little boy, endlessly in search of the key to that deep and inscrutable mystery, the approval of his mother. Oh, yes, I was Ma’s good little boy.
(He mimicks his mother.)
‘Who is the best little boy any Ma ever had? Who does Ma love more than anyone in the world?’ Me!
(Turns away from Chitra. The lighting has become a cold, white spot, as Deepak becomes a little boy.)
I’m seven. Ma cooks for me, Ma cleans for me, Ma stays up late at night for me, Ma cares for me when I am sick. Ma waits for me after school and when I come home, she asks, ‘Who is the best little boy any Ma ever had? Who does Ma love more than anyone in the world?’ ‘Me, me.’
(Sobbing. Chitra gets up, goes behind Deepak, takes his head in her lap. Slowly, he comes out of his trance.)
Look, Ma. I’m giving up Ansuya! I’m giving her up and my one chance for happiness. I’m doing it for you. And I feel sick to my stomach.
CHITRA: Mera beta.
DEEPAK: I’ve lost, Ma! I’ve lost.
CHITRA: Mera raja beta.
DEEPAK: Am I a coward, Ma?
CHITRA: Yeh tu kya kah raha hai?
DEEPAK: You taught me to go after success, Ma. And I did. You forgot to warn me there might be others in the way. I’m your puppet, Ma. Pull the string. Pull it harder. Choke me.
CHITRA: Mera achha beta. Mera raja beta.
(Fade. Next evening. The same scene. Ansuya is helping Amrita pack. There are boxes and wrapping paper and string all over the floor.)
ANSUYA: Pass me some paper, Amma.
AMRITA: Here! Do you think we should take this Bengal pottery vase with us?
ANSUYA: No, Amma dear. We should take only the nice things.
AMRITA: Yes. You’re right. So many things accumulate in a house over the years.
(Pause.)
Ansu, it is wonderful to see you up and about like this.
ANSUYA: When is the truck coming?
AMRITA: Saturday morning, Ansu. With the way things are, I cannot bear to live in this house any longer.
ANSUYA: Did I say anything in my sleep, Amma?
AMRITA: Everyone was so worried. Poor Dr Nath, such a darling man! He stayed by your bed all night.
ANSUYA: How embarrassing, Amma.
AMRITA: I spent the night with you. With Karan gone, it was suddenly so lonely. I’ve never felt so alone in my life, my child.
ANSUYA: Amma, we need some more string.
AMRITA: It’s there, right behind you.
(Pause.)
I must learn to laugh and cry at the same time. It’s the only way I can hide the fact that I know the difference between the way things are and the way they might have been.
(She gets up, goes to the window, and looks out.)
Ah, my sweet Ansu. I am going to miss Simla. I used to be intoxicated, just breathing its air. There was something about every day—whether it was sunny or raining.
ANSUYA: You can still have Simla, Amma.
AMRITA: It will not be the same, will
