ANSUYA: No, it won’t.
(Pause.)
AMRITA: Ever since this morning, the brokers started to hound me about the house. I was so confused. I didn’t know who to turn to.
ANSUYA: Pass me some more paper, Amma.
(Amrita picks up the paper and gives it to her. She hugs her daughter.)
AMRITA: Oh Ansuya, I’m so glad you are well.
ANSUYA: But, when I woke up, there was no Deepak in the house.
(Smiles sadly.)
The fool, he could at least have said goodbye.
(Pause.)
AMRITA: They dined at Rai Saheb’s last night and left this morning.
ANSUYA: (Pause.) Did he get engaged last night?
AMRITA: Ansu …
ANSUYA: Did he, Amma?
AMRITA: You must forget him, child.
ANSUYA: Did he get engaged?
AMRITA: Yes.
ANSUYA: So, the Rais finally did manage to find poor Neena a husband.
(She turns to hide her tears.)
AMRITA: My sweet Ansuya. There, there …
ANSUYA: The truth is, Amma, I think this is what Deepak really wanted. Don’t blame his mother. For Deepak, it was always his career above everything.
(She goes towards her daughter. But Ansuya withdraws. She slowly gets up and goes towards the window. Long pause. Slowly and resolutely, she turns around to face her mother. The tears are gone. She comes forward with a deliberate step, with a raised head, to centre stage.)
ANSUYA: Don’t worry about me, Amma. Yes, I broke down last night. But it will never, ever happen again..
(Pause.)
I’ve been thinking, Amma. All day, I’ve been thinking. I’m going to be strong. I’m going to look after you. This house will never be sold! That’s why I threw out the brokers this afternoon.
AMRITA: (Smiling.) Ah, that explains why they suddenly went away.
ANSUYA: You might as well put up a ‘Not for Sale’ sign outside. I am going to follow up on Deepak’s idea. I’m going to Bombay. I am going to talk to the people at the Taj. And, I’m going alone.
AMRITA: But …
ANSUYA: No ‘buts,’ Amma. Now, you must leave it to me. We are not going to stand helplessly by and become poor. I am now taking charge. I shall prove to you that I can do it. I shall not rest until you are secure. I want you never to worry about money, ever again.
AMRITA: Oh, my child, you give me so much strength.
ANSUYA: I’ve learned a lot in these three days, Amma. I used to believe that people like us couldn’t do anything. But I’ll show them. Yes, Deepak showed me the way. I shall make it happen.
(Suddenly, she has tears in her eyes.)
AMRITA: What is it, my darling?
ANSUYA: Amma?
AMRITA: Yes, my child?
ANSUYA: I ache for Deepak.
AMRITA: I understand, Ansu.
ANSUYA: Amma?
AMRITA: Yes?
ANSUYA: I’m in pain.
AMRITA: My child.
ANSUYA: It hurts too much.
AMRITA: I know.
ANSUYA: Amma?
AMRITA: Hm?
ANSUYA: Will the pain go away?
AMRITA: In time, my child.
ANSUYA: I love him so much.
(Pause.)
In the midst of our desperate, killing boredom, Deepak came like a rainbow.
AMRITA: It is going to be quiet with just the two of us.
ANSUYA: Yes.
(Pause.)
No, Amma. You mustn’t say that. It’s not going to be quiet. We have work to do. We are not going to cry. We are going to build. I shall show you the way.
AMRITA: (Wearily.) Yes, we mustn’t look back. I suppose we’ll have to live in Delhi now.
ANSUYA: Now pass me those books, Amma.
AMRITA: Perhaps it won’t be so bad, after all.
ANSUYA: We need a bigger box for the books, Amma.
AMRITA: Yes …, yes ….
(Fade.)
Epilogue
[Stage Centre. Karan, the narrator.]
KARAN: So there it is: a story, among so many, of the Partition of the country, but more, of partitions in the mind. What more can I say?
The Chinese withdrew from India after three weeks, for reasons no one understood. Seventeen months later, Nehru died. I was in Nagpur when it happened. With him died many of our dreams. Not only ours, but those of half of India’s as well. And an era came to an end.
Things were never ever the same for our splintered family. People like us—Amrita, Ansuya and I—we became creatures of the past. The Deepaks and Chitras of the world took charge of the future. Deepak became the Managing Director of his company and he gave glittering parties, over which Chitra, and not his wife, presided as the hostess.
I became a writer after I was … after I left the house. This play was written last year. As you can see, it’s autobiographical. And I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t admit that writing it helped me to get her out of my system.
Oh yes, our house did become a successful hotel, thanks to Ansuya. She worked tirelessly, like someone possessed, to make Deepak’s idea come true. It solved Amrita’s money problems, finally. But none of us ever went back there again. 9 Jakhoo Hill, our home, was lost forever.
Thank you, once again, for having come to see the play. Good night.
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This collection published 2001
Copyright © Gurcharan Das, 2001, 2011
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ISBN: 978-0-143-41452-0
This digital edition published in 2012.
e-ISBN: 978-8-184-75625-8
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