The Tailor of Giripul by Bulbul Sharma

Author:Bulbul Sharma
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2012-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

8

Janak blissfully flying over mountains; Rama content; Shankar turns sleuth

Janak reached over the butter-smeared chapatti, took Rama’s face in his hands and kissed her loudly, knocking over a glass of water. The steel glass rolled across the kitchen floor, making a loud clanking sound, and finally rolled down the steps into the courtyard. Rama giggled but did not move away. ‘Shush,’ she said, ‘Maaji will hear you.’

‘So what? Let her. What does she know about kissing? This is a modern trick and only young men like me know it. Your father, may he rest in heaven, must never have done all this,’ he said, feeling recklessly happy. Rama’s eyes sparkled and her teeth shone like tiny pearls. How beautiful she was. The stones on the kitchen floor, the pots and pans, the old stove, all looked so bright and lively, and even the walls were smiling. The entire house trembled with joy as the smoke from the kitchen fire floated through it. It had a warm, sweet scent as if they were burning sandalwood and not just dried pine twigs.

It was as if he was sitting in Indra’s garden in heaven, Janak thought, and began tickling his wife. She giggled and hid her face in her hands. He tickled her again. Rama laughed loudly. This tickling trick seemed to be working. Janak watched her breasts peeping out of her blouse as she shook with laughter. Why had he cut the neck line so low, he thought suddenly. Forget the blouse, worry about it later, this is bliss, he told himself, closing his eyes. He had imagined this moment many a time, and now he felt quite dizzy.

Maybe he was changing too, like Shankar, and becoming a strong, fearless man who could make women giggle and tremble with joy. He could perhaps even grow a moustache now, like the headman, and walk down the street with his chest puffed out. His teeth would become stronger and whiter, his eyes would acquire a bold light like the headman’s eyes did, when he looked at women.

The thought of the headman dampened his joyous spirits somewhat, but he cheered up when Rama began hitting him coyly with her long plait. The moonlight stroked their faces and made their eyes gleam with its soft silvery touch.

The easterly wind, making its way from Simla towards the higher mountains, decided to linger in Giripul for a while, whispering softly outside Janak’s window. The deodar trees shook their heavy branches languidly to greet the wind, inhaled its cool fragrance, and then settled down to caress the earth once more.

Janak felt his entire body being lifted up into the sky. This was what happiness meant. It was not difficult to achieve it. You did not have to be rich or powerful or have strong teeth and a rich moustache. All you needed was the love of a good woman. Rama was his wife and a good woman, despite her short temper.

He could see the houses in Giripul getting smaller and smaller as he floated above the snow-capped mountains.

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