My Wife

The biggest and the profoundest argument she had for her superiority was that she belonged to a place which was served by a railway station (although that station was the terminus) and therefore she came from a ‘civilised’ place while I came from a remote village in the hills which was 13 miles away from the nearest railway station and where civilisation would take time to reach even if it travelled at the speed of one mile a year, as there were no other means in those days for the civilisation to travel faster.

She had not known me and I had not known her. She had never seen me and I had never seen her. But that was not only our fate. In those days everyone had the same fate, as marriage was more or less a matter of chance, lottery or even gamble.

But in my case there was one saving factor. My sister had always to pass that village in order to catch the train and had to spend a day or the night there. On one occasion she saw this girl and became enamoured and somehow managed to extract a promise from her parents that she would be her bhabhi.

In any case, we were married and it was then that the game started. I found out a superior point. I was matriculate and she had attended school only up to 7th or 8th class. Although she always maintained that in spite of my being matriculate she was more intelligent, yet she could not beat the fact that I held a certificate from the famous University of Punjab that I was a matriculate, and it was no small thing in those days.

This inferiority constantly troubled her and persisted in her mind. She was extremely fond of reading books and novels which, of course, I never minded. But sometimes quarrel started over the fact that she wanted to finish not only a particular page or chapter but always the whole book before she would attend to any other work. One can imagine my plight! Anyhow time rolled on. At times I saw some textbooks and exercise books and pen and ink etc., etc. in her room, the relevance of which I could not quite understand. And one fine morning she suddenly said that she was going to appear in an examination. “Examination! What examination?” I asked, to which she replied, “Hindi Rattan of Punjab University,” which was the equivalent of matriculation. I had to take her to the examination hall and it was a pleasant surprise to discover that what she was saying was indeed a fact. However, I could never imagine that she would succeed. But when the result came after a month, she had indeed passed and in due course she produced before me a certificate from the same famous University of Punjab. I had a sort of feeling that there might have been a clerical mistake in the University office and someone else’s marks might have been credited to her. However, I never dared to send for the marks sheet from the University lest the mistake might be detected.

So, now I started finding out some other superiorities of mine. But the only point I could hammer in my favour was that I knew more English words than she did. But she retorted that she knew four languages — English, Urdu, Hindi and Punjabi — whereas I knew only three.

The tussle went on. I don’t call it a quarrel because quarrel is a common word and marriage means a permanent, stable and durable quarrel. She always maintained that she knew many other arts like music, cooking and sewing etc. etc. while I knew nothing of the sort. The way women have been forging ahead since Independence, if we were free in those days, she would have got degrees in music, cookery and even laundering and I would have remained a mere matriculate and my difficulties would have been only further multiplied.

Now, for day-to-day’s life some point for quarrel was needed and it was never difficult to pick up one for either of us. But most of them were all too common to be mentioned here and it is also likely that others may have had even better experiences. However, the most controversial and debatable point which could never be decided even by the arbitrators was the disparity between our heights. I am tall and she is short. I would invariably stress the many advantages of being tall — I could clean the walls without a stool or a ladder, I could drive nails in the walls and hang curtains etc. etc. But she always countered that she could do better work on the ground and that most of the work was done on the ground. Moreover, she argued that her shorter stature was highly economical. For instance, she needed a comparatively smaller cot, less cloth, smaller shoes and even could travel on half the ticket, whereas everything concerning me was costlier. Besides, I could never travel on half-ticket.

Now I started thinking of some new tricks for the game. I left home and jumped into politics and became a follower of Gandhiji, started using khaddar and tried to awe her with my superiority. Soon after, in 1930, I was arrested and sent to Multan Jail. Meantime, during my absence, my first child was born to her and she came to see me in the jail with our new baby. My father was with her. So we could not talk at all, and as she used to observe purdah, hence I could not see even her face. So, my only regret after she left was that such a long time had passed and we had had neither a debate nor a quarrel. I don’t know what impression she carried back but her feelings must have been mixed. I could not, however, anticipate that along with the feelings of pity, she would also carry the spirit of revenge. I was released by the end of 1931. Needless to mention that after my release I manifested full consciousness of my newly acquired superiority over her.

In 1932, one day, when I came home from my business, I found her missing while my two children were playing. I thought she would soon come back. But when it became quite late, I was puzzled and suddently there was a telephone ring and I was asked by the Congress Committee office to send bedding for my wife to the Central Jail. Later, I came to know that she had been going for Congress work everyday and that that evening she had carried the National Flag in a procession in Chandni Chowk and the whole batch of women was arrested. Punishment was self-invited, no law dispute was involved and therefore no question of putting up a defence. When I went in connection with the hearing of the case in the jail the next morning, she had already been sentenced to six months’ rigorous imprisonment and was ordered to be transferred to Lahore Female Jail the same evening as there was no space and proper facilities for women prisoners in the Central Jail at Delhi. The problem that now arose was about the children, and it was fairly decided that she would take the younger one with her and leave the elder one with me.

Her parents happened to be in Lahore. What a luck! I went to Lahore for the periodical interview and told my mother-in-law that her daughter had been in Lahore for about the past two months. “Let us go and see her”, I said. “Lahore? Where? She has never met me”, exclaimed her mother in astonishment. “She is in Female Central Jail.” “What did you say, in jail?” She was shocked and stunned. “How can girls of respectable families go to jail which is meant for persons of ill repute?” Now the fact that she was in her maike (parents’) town was naturally of great satisfaction and advantage to her, because not only her parents used to visit her but they also always brought to her the choicest fruits and sweets.

And soon the six months were over and she was back home, loaded with garlands and bouquets, appreciation and acclaim. Of course she was quite conscious of her newly scored victory which certainly demolished whatever superiority I had pretended to possess over her.

So we were now, so to say, at par. This parity brought about a new relationship between us — we now became friends. We started going out together to functions, cinemas and on social calls. Every morning we would go out together for a walk. We came across friends and acquaintances who were actuated to ask me, in view of our obvious disparities in stature and age etc., as to whose daughter she was. While she blushed, I felt not a little embarrassed and I would merely say, “Well she is the daughter of her parents!”

Now whenever and wherever the occasion arose, she used to be the recipient of all praise and appreciation for her having gone to jail and suffered imprisonment but nothing for me for all my arrests and sacrifices.

This, of course, was far too much for me. I was, therefore, aching to do something to retrieve my position. The method that I adopted was age-old. I started inviting friends and acquaintances to quite frequent parties at my house hoping that that would raise my status at least in the eyes of the invitees who would certainly not be so ungrateful as not to praise and acclaim me before my wife. Well, praise they did, but alas their praise was not for me but again for my wife whom they loudly appreciated for the lavish hospitality and dainty and delectable dishes. The plan thus not only misfired but turned out to be a boomerang.

Now, one day, we were having a walk and I burst out and said, “All right, let us see who can walk more,” and added commandingly, “we will go back to the house only when you concede and confess that you have become completely tired and exhausted and beg me to stop and return.” She did not say anything but accepted my challenge.

Delhi in those days was very small, only within the city walls. So, like the satellites, we began to move into the orbit of the whole city of Delhi. We were walking non-stop. It had grown dark, then night had fallen and eventually midnight also passed. Once or twice we were also interrupted and stopped by the policemen on night duty, but we went on walking. The dawn was about to break and by 3 a.m. we had circled around the city thrice. When we completed the third round at our house, I stopped and with folded hands begged of her, “Yes, Deviji, you win and I lose but now let us get into the house.”