Rajma curry and rice

Rajma curry and rice

The landlady irritatingly called Chander to attend the phone. It was a call from his uncle Kiron Das. ' Are you coming tonight ? Uncle asked. Chander said, ' Yes, I couldn't last Saturday but I will be there tonight.' Uncle mildly said okay and closed the call. He perhaps knew the homeowner lady would not like long conversations on her landline telephone. The old widow was in fact irritated. She said, ' I get disturbed by phone calls...please tell your people to call here only in case of extreme emergency. ' Chander said, ' Yes, Madam ' and came back to his room. It was a hot and humid day in Calcutta in the summer of 1984. He knew, had to go to his uncle tonight to listen to stories of freedom fighters of India. It was a routine for almost a year to meet him on every Saturday night. Chander knew a new episode was boiling in uncle's mind. That night's story was how Kiron Das met his two old friends after over thirty years. These friends happened to be Chander's parents.  

 Kiron Das, a freedom fighter, was a close witness to the activities of Indian freedom fighters from 1929 till the country's independence in August 1947. Now a Septuagenarian, he was younger brother of great Indian freedom fighter and martyr Jatin Das who laid down his life after fasting in Lahore jail for sixty three days. Kiron was a young boy then. He went to Lahore from Calcutta on getting the news of his brother's pledge of fasting till death unless British rulers stop treating freedom activists as criminals. In Lahore, which was a completely unknown city for him, Kiron Das met Chander's parents who along with other young activists were his support providers there. He was in Lahore for around two months and reached back to his hometown Calcutta in mid-September that year with the dead body of his brother. Apparently, demands of his fasting brother were not accepted by British authorities. 

Kiron Das continued his connections with Lahore friends for some time. Independence in1947 came with a heavy price of partition of India and creation of an Islamic Pakistan. Hindus and Sikhs were forced to flee from their homes of generation to migrate to this side of India. Who migrated where, was not known. Families and friends were separated from each other. Similar was the story of Chander's parents. They settled down in a Himalayan town, known for the holy river Ganga and mythological importance of the place for Hindus.

Time passed at its own pace. Kiron, an explorer and pilgrim now, happened to be in that Himalayan town. He, along with some others, was sitting on the bank of the holy river watching its flow from mountains to ground. He thought, how these mountains were silent witnesses of history. More people assembled there. As generally happens with senior explorers, Kiron started narrating stories of days he had spent with young freedom activists. He was narrating various events that happened in Lahore during his brother's fasting in jail there. Suddenly a lean and sick person who was listening carefully asked, ' Do you remember a couple there whose home you used to visit whenever feeling depressed ? ' How can I forget them... I had a vegetarian meal a number of times at their home... I very fondly remember the food and hospitality... and that Rajma curry with rice...' The gentleman now came closer and asked, ' Do you know where that couple went after the partition of the country ? Kiron did not reply but looked closely at him and after a few seconds got up and hugged him. Both were in tears. He, in fact, was Chander's father. They were meeting after thirty five years or so. 

Kiron Das asked about his wife, ' How is Shanti ? I am going back tonight but how can I go without meeting her... now that I know that she is here... let's not waste time and go meet her...' They took a horse-drawn carriage called 'Tanga ' there. Her home was about three miles away. Shanti immediately recognised Kiron. It was a very emotional moment. Kiron said that he could never forget his days in Lahore. Time was limited, memories to share were unlimited. Kiron's train was to leave in four hours. He said to Shanti, ' I have no time today to enjoy the wonderful food you cook...by the way, do you still not allow meat in your kitchen ? Shanti smiled and said, ' Yes, meat is strictly not permitted in my kitchen...but I am sorry, I could not offer you any non-vegetarian dish in Lahore though I knew you were a fond meat and fish eater...I am really sorry.' Kiron laughed, ' It is okay...but I always remember your Rajma curry with rice...maybe next time...' Time passed quickly. Kiron took a 'Tanga' to go back to his hotel room to pack up for the return train journey to Calcutta. Trains in those days were running on steam engines and stopping at almost every station.  

Kiron Das boarded the train and settled on his berth. Memories of Lahore and surprise meeting two old friends from there were running in his mind. He was also feeling sad for his friends and thousands of others who had to flee from their homes and suffer for political immaturity of leadership to divide the country to satisfy personal ego and lust for power. 

Train was about to move when a co-passenger introduced himself and said, ' They call it an express train but it stops at every alternate station...in eight minutes the next station and it will stop there for five minutes...' Kiron Das did not say anything. He was not new to that route. He knew the next station- Jwalapur was quite near to Shanti's house where he was a little while ago. The train had a long whistle and slowly started moving. Kiron Das thought he would try to get a cup of tea from the Tea Stall of the next station. Train was not speeding up. It's diver knew that the next stop was not far away and there was no point speeding up and then slowing it down. Kiron Das went to the carriage's door to get down. He thought five minutes were enough to fetch a cup of tea. Train slowly stopped and he came down and looked around for a tea stall or any tea vendor. Suddenly he saw a couple rushing towards him. On coming closer, he was surprised to see Shanti with her husband. She was holding an aluminium food box. Her husband had an earthen water jug. Shanti was excited. She said, ' I could not serve you anything home, here it is for your train journey...' She handed that food box to him. Kiron Das felt extremely obliged. He said, ' It was not required...but you are the same...the country's division could not divide your love for others,' Soon the train started again. Kiron Das came back to his seat. He was affectionately holding the food box. It had three compartments. He thought Shanti must have given him Rajma (Kidney Beans) curry and steamed rice. He thought, should not have mentioned food to Shanti. 

Excited, after some time, Kiron opened the food box. Shocked, there was no Rajma curry.. Instead it had mutton curry and steamed Basmati rice. He closed his eyes. Filled with tears, he thought, ' I should have told her that I was no longer a meat eater...left it the day my brother attained martyrdom for his motherland. Down with deep emotions, he thought of Shanti who all her life not touched and allowed meat in her kitchen, now cooking all this for him. Kiron Das was a non-meat eater all these years but for Shanti's love and respect, he ate meat curry and fish that day as it was Rajma curry with rice of Lahore of 1929.  

Chander returned to his room. He was late that night and remained awake for a few hours. It was not a memoire that he listened to. It was an over fifty years long trip from Lahore to Himalayan town to Calcutta. It was a journey of friendship and care for each other.