Last Labyrinth by Arun Joshi

Author:Arun Joshi [Joshi, Arun]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9788122205060
Publisher: Orient Paperbacks
Published: 2012-07-05T00:00:00+00:00

10

When I went back, it was to Gargi. With the rains the heat had declined. A damp musty wind blew along the ghats. It had long since blown out the rickshaw puller’s lamp but we were still far from the heavy traffic and the policemen. He had finished his peddling of fine young ladies who sang and did excellent chikan work and could be induced to do other things. He was breathless now, his lungs wrecked by ten years of smoking and rickshaw pulling. As we passed under the street lamps, I noticed the steady increase in the perspiration down his back. His muscles twitched in jerky movements, as though they existed independent of him.

That morning I had had breakfast in Bombay. To Geeta I had said I was going to Delhi on business which was not a lie because I might have done just that and gone back. I had no clear idea what I planned to do in Benaras. K had suggested I stop hamming. How did I know where all I would wander before the hamming stopped, if it stopped at all.

The light of the chowk approached, trembling through a haze of dust. The rickshaw man got off, lighted the lamp, cleared his lungs of phlegm. ‘I can take you to little children,’ he said desperately, as though offering me the accumulated innocence of Benaras’ children.

‘Take me to the cinema hall with mirror doors.’

That was all that I remembered of the location.

It was just then that I had decided to go to Gargi. I felt at home with her. I wanted to talk, to explain, to understand. I remembered Aftab’s plaintive peevish complaints to her, and the thought crossing my mind: ‘She understands. The only one who understands.’

I sat across from Gargi. The windows had been flung open letting in the noise and the smell of the streets. Gargi sat in her usual place, against the wall, straight-backed, watching me through pleasant, intelligent eyes. She was not surprised to see me. I might as well have dropped in from the house next door.

I had a cough. There was a dryness in my nose and my throat. She got up — how neat and cool she looked — and got me a glass of water in a steel tumbler. She watched me drink it down, then opened her paan box. She made up a paan, offered it to me. I remembered refusing it during the first visit. I took it now. I thought I needed it. She made another for herself. She sat back, her hands clasped around her knees, and smiled at me through stained teeth. Once again, I wanted to hug her.

‘You know, I have been away.’ She watched my lips, nodded.

‘After I met you the last time I went abroad. To Europe and America and Japan. With Geeta, my wife. I would like her to meet you some time. She is your type. Believes in God. Krishna and all that.’ Gargi smiled.

‘I have not been well.

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