Rajoi Kaur
Rajoi Kaur lived two houses apart
from our house. Most of the time, I saw her talking on her mobile. She was
stunningly good looking; had heavy scarlet lips, large bosom, broad buttocks, big
plain eyes, and dark hair and always heavily made up. Her gait was rhythmic
like that of show stopper of fashion show. I didn’t talk to her but whenever I
drove by her she gallantly passed a smile on me. Then I blushed and disappeared
from her gaze. Rajoi often tossed back her smooth hair while smiling. I
pondered over her beauty and came to conclusion that she was better than any
other woman dwelling in our colony.
The tragedy of her life happened
when she married Manu Singh who was an alcoholic bloke and people generally saw
him uttering loud obscenities while sitting under the Peepal tree at the corner
of our street. For children like me, it was a part of entertainment while old
nauseated. Manu Singh had been to rehabilitant several times. Doctors declared
him as a cancer patient but nothing could deter him drinking. They had a
daughter, Khushi, who was five years old and after Rajoi had herself as a
dancer in marriages and orchestras, Khushi had begun studying in Sacred Heart
Convent School where most of students were from affluent families. Khushi was
happy, so was Rajoi, as now she used to go to school on motor bus.
One Tuesday evening I was standing
in the boundary of my house I saw Rajoi passing my street. Like always, she had
mobile on her ear and smile on her lips. She saw me and threw a wink of her
eye. At that time, I was studying secondary and I often wonder what would have
happened to her if I was of her age. As she moved forth to peepal tree, Manu
Singh saw her and started addressing her in loud voice with words like whore,
bitch, cock-seducer… She protested and now the loud curses would be listened followed
by screams and brash. Neighbours came outside from their houses and went back
fugitively. Who likes the stale food or same show every day? Obviously no one.
Three year rolled by and she didn’t
look old a single day. She was still beautiful like an eighteen years old cherry
blossom girl. In those years, I attracted to a girl, Neyal, a year senior than
me in school. We fell in love with each other and then love buried in next
month. I was flattering other girls as well. Relationship with Neyal brought forth
two friends in my life, Aaliya and Aashna. Since higher secondary I haven’t
seen them, but Aashna is still my Facebook friend and I often talks to her.
Despite having experience with talking to girls I didn’t summon the confidence
to talk to Rajoi. Rajoi was still passing smiles and winking on me.
I had seen Rajoi on Dhillon’s bike,
Klair’s bike and on bikes of other blokes. Those blokes were strangers for me
and sometimes, might be, strangers for her as well. Everyone knew about her
stories of her performances but never discussed. Khuhsi was now studying in
class second in the same school. Several times I had seen her frolicking with
other kids of street. She had resembled eyes and nose from her mother. Her
voice is like that of nightingale. Like Rajoi, she tossed back her hair while
laughing. Manu Singh had begun interspersing his curses with string of blood
coughing. The other thing I noticed the expensive salwar suits with sequined
duppatta; gold bangles and earrings of Rajoi and branded tops and denims of
Khushi. Rajoi’s gait was still so rhythmic and so luscious.
One day while coming back from my
Chemistry coaching classes I saw Manu Singh wailing under the tree. On
enquiring from neighbours I got to know, as I was told, Rajoi fled from house
with Khushi. Couple of days later, Manu Singh rendered the house on rent except
one room for his own shelter and the money he earned from rent he used it as his
new bottle of local Kesar Kasturi. Khushwant
Singh was right when he wrote ‘Most drinking men, if given the choice between a
willing female and a slug of premium Scotch, will opt for the latter.’
After two years, the news of death
of Rajoi spread like epidemic. She died in small district, Abohar, of Punjab after
few months of battle with uterus cancer. There is no tell-tale sign of Khuhsi. Manu
Singh is in rehabilitant since one year. The last time I saw Rajoi binding her
hair on top of her head in a chignon under the peepal tree. Next to her was
Manu Singh sitting on cot nestling with Khushi.
No comments:
Post a Comment