Bhaiya, Malhar Sunao

He entered the room. Everything was quiet and dim. He stood there and watched the being lying on the bed. The room was an old square one, with high ceilings and big windows. His eyes moved and rested on the big dressing table. It was a beautiful wooden one, carved exquisitely, with a huge oval mirror attached to it. He remembered how he had bought it for her. How happy she was when he had gotten that. She used to sit in front of it and spend ours doing makeup, and putting on jewelry and other ornaments. His eyes shifted again. The whole room was empty, except for the couple of chairs lying near the bed.

Suddenly, the being on the bed moved, and he was brought back to the room. The room smelled of death. He could feel it, sense it and smell it. Sooner or later, Bhairav would stop his golden chariot, laden with numerous heads, come down, bouncing with joy at the thought of ending another human life, and with one clean sweep of his sword, take her away. For an instance he wanted that to happen. He wanted it to end in one clean sweep. And then suddenly it hit him. She would be gone. She would be gone forever. He would not be able to come home from a concert and sing for her. He will not be able to bring home gifts for her. He will have no one to teach music to. He will have no one to sit and laugh with. Suddenly, there was a pang of pain in his heart and tears flowed down his eyes. It felt as if something had gripped his heart, and would not let go. His whole life with her suddenly flashed in his mind. He shook his head, and let out a faint murmur. The being on the bed heard that, and said in a faint voice, “Bhaiya?”

He hastily, cleaned away his tears and moved forward trying hard to put a smile on his face. “Yes, Piyari”, he said in a hoarse voice and sat beside her.

He could see her condition had worsened since yesterday.
“Why are you crying?” She asked with a faint smile on her face. “See, I am much better now.” She held his hand in hers.

He felt the weak pulse and the parasite of death crawling inside her veins.
He kissed her on her forehead, and slowly laid a hand on her head. He looked at the frail and life-less face which once used to be full of energy and glow. He remembered how she had danced and sung on his wedding. How pretty she had looked in the long red dress. Her eyes were at that time full of love, energy and life. Now he looked down upon them and saw life fading away from them; slowly but surely.

Suddenly he remembered the rape. How terrible and horrid that was. It was the time when he had taken her with him to Gujarat for a concert. The night of the concert riots between Hindus and Muslims broke out. He was standing outside the concert hall, trying to find a taxi, while people were running around in chaos. Shouting, crying, mixed with the smell of blood and fire could be felt and heard. Suddenly a group of Hindus approached them. They were vicious men, and had swords and heavy sticks in their hands. They cut him hard on the back with a sword, and he fell down.

They snatched away Piyari’s odhini and pushed her on the ground. She was screaming and he tried to get up again. Two strong men held him while his condition worsened due to loss of blood. A big brute of a man, stretched Piyari’s legs apart and another held her arms. Another held her legs firmly. The brute laughed, “Now we will show you Muslims, what it is that you are worth.” With that he ripped her shalwar, while she screamed. He unzipped his pants, and entered her. The brutality and force made her scream in pain, “Bhaiya! Bachao!” This blood curdling scream would have taken the life out of anybody, but he was not far from death himself. His eyes closed as he collapsed with loss of blood. The Hindus disregarded this and kept practicing KamaSutra, on a poor helpless, innocent Muslim girl.

When he woke up, he was in a hospital. He had woken up with a start and had inquired about his sister. The kind nurse standing right next to him had pointed to a bed next to his. There lay Piyari her eyes closed and breathing heavily, her face all cut up and bruised. It had taken him four weeks to recover completely. Piyari however recovered soon from her cuts and bruises but he could see that she was shattered internally. Totally and utterly shattered. Her eyes had become lifeless and she hardly smiled. She had also started covering herself as completely as she could with her odhini.

As soon as he had recovered they had taken a train back to Lucknow. Once home the family members were surprised why he had brought the disgraced girl back? She should have been left in Gujarat or better still, killed. He couldn’t believe what his family members were saying, but as he was the eldest he said that she would stay and asked specially his wife to take care of Piyari. His wife was a very sweet and nice girl who thought of Piyari as her younger sister and took good care of her.

But suddenly after some time Piyari’s condition had started worsening. She had started loosing weight, constantly had a fever, and lost her appetite as well. A doctor’s examination revealed that she had AIDS. Very severe and it was consuming her rapidly. According to the doctor, she had very less time. A year at the most. That day he had sat on a Jai-Namaz and cried. Cried to his Allah, and implored that He should call him instead of Piyari. That was the first time he had looked up with tearful eyes and asked Him why He had created him as a Muslim in Hindustan? He was very proud of being a Hindustani, and even introduced his music at concerts as Hindustani classical. But that day he felt helpless, frustrated and angry at his Allah for making him a Hindustani.

From then on Piyari’s health only went down. She became sicker and frail. Because she was a disgrace to the family she was locked up in a room with windows and a view. Only he or his wife went up there to meet with her, talk to her and take care of her.

He was jolted from his horrible thoughts by her calling him, “Bhaiya, what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing”, he replied with a smile.

Suddenly, she grasped for breath, and swallowed very hard. He jumped from the bed and filled a glass with water.

“Piyari, here, take this. Drink some water”.

She forced a smile and said, “I am alright, Bhaiya”, and took the glass from his hands. She drank a little bit. She was breathing very heavily. Oh Allah, don’t let it be today. Please, please let her be with me for some more time. He pleaded earnestly.

She grasped his hands, and said, “Bhaiya, sing something. It has been a long time since I heard you sing. Please don’t say no. You don’t even need a tanpura. I will forgive you if you go be-sura just this once”. Her earnest smile clenched his heart. He couldn’t control his tears and they flowed down.

He quickly mopped them with his sleeve.

“What do you want me to sing?”

“Bhaiya, Malhar sunao”, she said.

He knew Miyan ki Malhar was her favorite raag and he had taught her how to sing it as well.

He started. Suddenly he felt as if his whole being wanted him to sing. He had not sung for the last six months. No concerts and no riyaaz. He raised his voice and closed his eyes. A cool breeze started flowing in the room and clouds gathered outside. It was the monsoon season and rain was inevitable. He went into the alaap, and started exploring the numerous facets of the raag. He thought of Piyari and their times together as children playing and learning how to sing as children. With the happy and sad memories his voice went up and down. He flowed through torrid currents and the calm waters. It was as if his being wanted to let out the frustration and the feeling of helplessness and singing was doing exactly that. Tears flowed down his closed eyes, but he kept singing. Slowly, after many revisions of all his inner thoughts and fears, he brought his alaap which had gotten into the gamak part to a conclusion.

He slowly opened his eyes, and looked down at her. She seemed so peaceful and satisfied as if all her wishes had come true. Her head was tilted and rested on his arm. It took him a minute to realize that she was dead. He sat there in shock. After a couple of minutes when he got over the shock, tears flowed into his eyes and clouded his vision. Tears started flowing down as did the rain drops outside.