The golden evening light had not yet settled upon the earth. When one looked up, you could see it shimmering on the treetops, spilling over the broad peepal tree by the gate. At its crown, the tender parrot-green leaves glittered brightly. They were giggling as if tickled by the touch of the breeze. From the hollow of this peepal tree, a lush green parrot was scratching its red beak and peeking out. On one branch, a slender, elongated nest was dangling. Whose nest it was, who knows. Shaped like a milky breast, it seemed as if it was spun from wool.
Ramrao stared upward until his neck ached. When looked up like that, the tears welling up in eyes would quietly retreat unseen. No one could tell that there were tears in the eyes. In between, he turned his face away and wiped the tears rolling down his cheeks with the edge of his dhoti. A thought crossed his mind: why are my eyes welling up like this? Even when Nani had left for the ashram four years ago, my eyes hadn’t been this watery. And today, what is happening? Today, she is returning after recovering — so my heart should be filled with joy. Am I feeling joy?
‘Everything feels desolate and gloomy today!’ Vinu muttered to himself.
But Ramrao didn’t pay attention to it. He kept looking at the sky. A large flock of parrots had turned back. He kept watching.
A lot of people were at the pimpalpaar, waiting for Nani. Among them were her son Vinu, his wife Anuradha, and their eight-year-old son Ranga. The neighbourhood women had gathered, and the children had also come together.
Even if grandma calls, Ranga, don’t go too close to her immediately, understand? Anuradha kept warning Ranga repeatedly, taking him aside.
Ramrao did not like this. He thought, ‘What’s the harm if the grandson goes near his grandma? The expert doctor has already declared that she is completely cured. Then, why does Anu keep instilling fear in that little child’s mind again and again? If her own grandson doesn’t go near her, how will the neighboring children go close to her?’
Once again, he turned his face away and wiped his eyes with the corner of his dhoti.
‘Why hasn’t he come yet?’ said Vinu.
‘Who?’ Ramrao replied, realising his voice had trembled.
‘Bhairaram! He should have brought Nani by now.’
‘The buses from Amravati usually arrive late—’ Ramrao said mechanically.
‘Wait, I hear the sound of a motor—’ Kaku from the neighbouring house hushed everyone, listening intently.
But Ramrao didn’t believe it. Over the past hour, he had imagined hearing the sound of a motor many times.
‘It’s here, it’s here!’ Kaku shouted again. Everyone tilted their heads and listened carefully. This time, the sound was real. The motor was approaching. The people sitting at the paar quickly stood up. Everyone was eagerly waiting for the car to come into view. Ramrao stood still, stiff as a stone. His attention shifted to the peepal tree. There was an old idol of Ganapati at the peepal base. Next to it, there was a stone niche to place an oil lamp or a niranjan.
‘Anu—’ Ramrao called out in a soft voice.
“What?”
‘It’s getting dark. Light a niranjan for Ganapati. It will make her feel better—’
‘Okay!’
Anu quickly ran and placed a niranjan in front of Ganapati.
The dim flame of the niranjan was flickering up and down with the breeze. In the light, Ganpati’s idol seemed to come alive and appeared to be moving. Ramrao kept looking at the idol. In that soft glow, the old idol looked calm and serene. The fingers of its hands and feet had worn away and weathered due to years of wind and rain. Its trunk appeared scraped. The long earlobes looked bruised.
Ramrao kept looking at the idol with a cold look. He had never looked at it in such a way before. What an old idol it was. Many generations had come and gone, but the idol was still there. Ramrao had been seeing it for many years, ever since his childhood. But today, for the first time, he was looking at it intently. He had never noticed such details of the idol before.
Just then, a motor stopped at the gate. First Bhaiyaram got out and, offering his hand, helped Nani step out of the motor.
‘Why so late, Bhaiyaram?’ Vinu asked standing two steps away.
‘On the way, one of the tyres got punctured —’. Bhaiyaram got busy unloading the luggage.
There are always bumps in the road! Nani said and laughed heartily.
Her laughter brightened the entire atmosphere. The gloomy dusk suddenly became joyful. Nani’s face was filled with delight. It was only obvious. Four years ago, she had left her happy sansar and gone to the ashram. She had left with the understanding that she would never return to this home again. As she left, she touched every object in the house, the door, and the windows one last time. She bowed down before Ganpati, touched the idol with her hand, and sat on the paar outside the house for a while before leaving. She left with the feeling that she would never return here, that it was no longer possible for her to come back. It was only natural for her to feel joy now that she was returning to that house again. Her face had lit up with a wide smile.
‘Ranga, come here, child,’ she said, stretching her hand forward.
But Ranga held onto Anu’s saari and stood there, unmoving.
‘Come — come — give me a peck!’
‘He can’t recognise you. Once he clings to you, he won’t leave!’ Anu said, pulling Ranga further back.
‘He will come to you later! You get fresh and take rest!’ Vinu came forward.
While climbing the stairs, she raised her hand for support.
‘Give her your hand, Bhaiyaram!’ Vinu suddenly shouted.
Holding Bhaiyaram’s hand, she came up and stopped near the paar.
‘I was thinking. Do you light a niranjan in front of ganapati or not?
‘We have continued with all your rituals. You go and offer your prayers to Ganpati.’ Ramrao said.
Nani bowed down before Ganapati and sat down on the paar, letting her feet dangle for a while. In the faint, half-light of dusk, her gaze wandered over everyone. As if drawn to the newly brought item in the house, all the children were looking at Nani. She was laughing to herself. Lost in her joy, she barely noticed what was right in front of her.
‘You’re doing alright, aren’t you, Nani?’ Kaku suddenly broke her trance.
‘Oh dear—’ Nani squirmed a little but kept smiling. “Kaku, didn’t see you at all —”
Kaku also smiled. Smiling, Kaku was watching Nani’s nose and lips. On her nose and lips, there were white patches that looked like they had been scratched.
‘You have three daughters and then finally got a son, right?’
‘Oh, you remembered quite well!’
“And then what? You think I forgot everyone? Even if you forgot me!”
“No, no, we didn’t! But in the midst of all this chaos, where do I find the time to come to Amaravati to meet you?”
‘I just said it!’ Nani burst into laughter again and asked, ‘Where is he?’
‘Here he is’ Kaku grasped a boy’s shoulders firmly, preventing his escape towards Nani.
‘What’s your name, my little rogue? Come here—come give your grandma a kiss—’ Nani’s eyes held him in a gaze brimming with wonder.
‘No, he won’t come! He doesn’t go to anyone at all!’
‘Look, get up now. Go wash up and rest. The usual chatter will resume tomorrow anyway,’ Ramrao said and turned away.
Nani lingered. And behind Nani trailed the others.
‘Sanje—’
‘Huh?’ Little Sanji kept looking at Kaku.
Kaku pinched Sanju’s arm and signalled with her eyes to move back.
Just then, the cow in the shed let out a low moo.
‘She recognized me!’ Nani smiled.
‘How could she not? Just because she’s a mute animal doesn’t mean she’s unaware!’ Ramrao replied.
Nani and Ramrao entered the cattle shed. Nani stroked the cow’s back affectionately and ran her hand over its muzzle, asking, ‘Does she still give milk?’
‘She does!’
“Who milks her?”
‘Bhaiyaram!’
‘Him? How does he manage that?’ She kept staring pointedly at Ramrao.
Ramrao’s chest pounded as if his heart were racing. She kept staring intently at him without blinking.
‘What?’ he asked, itching his nostrils slightly.
‘Nothing… Just seeing how you’ve been,’ she replied innocently.
‘I’m fine!’
‘Fine how?’
‘Just fine, I tell you. But I’m tired of all this worrying now.’
‘What’s there to be tired about?’ She moved suddenly closer.
Just then, Ramrao bent aside and pushed some fresh fodder toward the cow.
Nani entered the house. She washed up and then settled onto the floor mat for tea.
‘Now listen to me,’ Anu said firmly. “From today onward, you’re not doing any sort of work.’
‘Why not?’
‘He said so. You’re only to rest!’
‘Who said so? Vinu?’
‘Yes!’
Nani burst into laughter. Everything seemed to amuse her today.
Early in the morning, Nani tucked her pallu into her waist and got straight to work. Anu was soaking the wheat flour to knead dough for chapatis.
‘Give it to me –’
‘It’s alright. You should rest now.
‘What rest now? Wasn’t I making chapatis in the ashram?’
“That’s exactly why you should rest now.”
For a moment, Nani grew quite serious and looked at her intently.
“Come here, Ranga—I’ll take care of you,” she said and went to fetch him.
‘Go, play outside. What are you doing in the house?’ As Anu shouted at Ranga, he ran outside in a wild leap. Nani stood still by the window door.
In the evening, she picked up the milking pail and stepped outside.
‘What are you doing?’ Vinu asked, eyeing the pail in her hands.
‘Milking the cow. It’s been four years since I last did it,’ she said, tucking her pallu firmly into her waist.
‘Put that pail down.’
‘Why?’
‘The doctor said you shouldn’t strain yourself.’
‘Hah! At the ashram, I cooked for ten to fifteen people daily!’
‘The ashram had doctors to check on you. Who’s going to run after you here?’
‘Nothing will happen,’ she muttered and began walking toward the shed.
‘Put. It. Down.’ Vinu’s voice turned sharp.
She left the pail where she stood, but her heart twisted into knots. She felt humiliated. Without another word, she went inside the house, covered her eyes with her pallu, and wept silently. By nightfall, after dinner, she slept.
But before drifting off, she made up her mind—No more listening to anyone. This is my house. Everyone should follow my rules. Who is Vinu to tell me that I can’t work in my own home? At the ashram, I cooked for ten to fifteen people. Here, just feeding four—what strain could that possibly be?
She woke before dawn, the first to rise. Bathed. Searched for her sari—it was drying outside on the porch. Wrapping it around herself, she marched to the stove. Took out the flour tin, poured water, kneaded the dough with swift hands, and lost herself in the rhythmic slapping of chapatis..
When Anu woke, she found a stack of chapatis by the stove.
‘Who made these?’
‘Me. Why?’
‘So early?’
‘If I’d waited for you to wake up, you wouldn’t have let me—’
Anu pressed her palms to her temples and fell silent.
But Nani couldn’t sit idle. Grabbing a broom, she immersed herself in sweeping. After the men had finished their meals, Nani and Anu sat down to eat. Anu served herself rice and dal, while pushing the plate of chapatis toward Nani.
‘Why? Won’t you have any?’ Nani asked, noticing Anu hadn’t taken any chapatis on her plate.
‘Not feeling well since last night! No appetite. Just going to have a little rice,’ Anu replied.
‘The men ate the chapatis’
‘Yes!’
‘Did anyone say anything?’
‘They said they were good!’
‘Who?’
‘He and Mamanji!’
Hearing this, Nani’s face lit up.
‘This body that’s worked all its life – how can it sit idle? What rest do I need?’
Anu didn’t respond. Lifting her water glass, she swallowed the morsel stuck in her throat.
‘Pass me that dal pot here!’
‘Wait, I’ll serve you,’ said Anu, pouring dal over Nani’s rice. As they ate, Anu secretly studied Nani’s hand — her fingers. The fingers had the slivers of nails and the joints had contracted. Nani was mixing the rice with shrunk fingers.
After the meal, Nani went inside.
Vinu was passing by there.
‘Vinu, how were the rotis I made?’
‘They were great!’
‘Why? Do you prefer your wife’s cooking?’
‘No! You made today’s chapatis, didn’t you? I could tell—they were excellent!’
Nani’s heart swelled with joy. Following Vinu, she stepped onto the front porch where Ramrao was walking after a meal.
Did you like today’s chapatis?
‘There were chapatis?’
Suddenly, Ramrao looked at Vinu’s eyes —then he just panicked.
‘What?’
‘You mentioned the chapatis? Wow! I was just asking Anu if she’d made them!’
‘Why did you say where were the chapatis?’
‘I thought… where’s today’s newspaper?” Ramrao fumbled, pretending to search for the paper to mask his fluster.
But Nani caught it—the faintest shadow of suspicion that they were hiding something. She felt uneasy. Retreating to maajghar, she spread out the mat and lay down. Pulling her pallu over her face like a veil, she tried to sleep in that darkness. But couldn’t. Silent tears began seeping through her closed eyelids.
In the evening, she secretly began searching for the pail. She turned toward the washed utensil—there was the pail. But right next to it was also a freshly cleaned flour container. In the morning, the container had been full of flour. How did it end up being cleaned…? Lost in thought, she hid the pail in the folds of her sari and headed to the cowshed. After many days, she had to milk the cow today. She splashed the water from the pail onto the cow’s udders, and just as she was about to hold them… she noticed seven or eight chapatis lying in front of the cow.
Nani left everything. She brought the empty pail and placed it inside the house, then sat quietly on the swing hanging at the porch. She began to suppress the sobs in her throat.
‘Aren’t you going to eat?’
“No, I don’t want to. What I ate this morning hasn’t even digested yet.”
‘At least have some milk!’
‘No. I don’t want anything. You go ahead and eat. Give Ranga, I’ll take care of him—’
‘No worry. He’s already asleep. You just rest!’
Anu went inside.
Ranga was crying in the kitchen. Hearing this, Nani began to rock herself on the swing. But she couldn’t find peace. She got up and went to the bedroom. She stood staring at the beds. Two beds lay at arm’s length from each other. Was it like this last night too? Or had she simply not noticed? She bent down. She pulled Ramrao’s bed closer and pushed it against her own. She pressed the mattresses together. Then she lay down on her own bed. Turning her face towards Ramrao’s mattress, she lay sideways on the pillow. She remained like that for a long time with her eyes closed. One arm stretched out to the side.
Late at night, she felt a sudden stirring. She blinked her eyes open. Ramrao had turned off the lamp. In the darkness, he bent down, and pulled his mattress away from hers. Nani’s hand that had been on his mattress fell to the floor with a slight clinking sound of her bangles. But Ramrao didn’t lift that hand with his own to place it back on her mattress. Not even that much touch!
Nani’s eyes widened. All the blood rushed to her head. She felt like one side of her body was paralyzed. Her breath caught as if stifled. She wanted to wail loudly and cry! But the tears wouldn’t come—only steam seemed to escape from her eyes.
She remained lying down for quite some time. In the morning, Ramrao woke up, but Nani had already gotten up before him. Ramrao came outside.
‘Has Mother-in-law not woken up yet?’
“She woke up long ago!”
‘No—’
‘No? Hey, Vinu—!’ Ramrao shouted loudly.
Vinu came running. They searched everywhere—the bathroom, the toilet, the cattleshed, all the rooms. Nani was nowhere to be found. However, under the peepal tree, the niranjan was still burning. There was a sandalwood mark on Lord Ganesha’s forehead, and a jaswand flower adorned his trunk.
‘Where could she have gone?’
People were sent out in all directions. Then, they found out at the bus stand that Nani had boarded a bus to Amravati!
***
Jaywant Dalvi (1924-1994)
Jaywant Dalvi was a prolific Marathi writer. He traversed diverse literary genres—short stories, novels, plays, travelogues, and humorous writings. Dalvi’s body of work includes sixteen short story collections, twenty-one novels, nineteen plays, and a captivating travelogue titled Lok ani Loukik. For nearly two decades, under the pseudonym "Thanthanpaal", Dalvi wrote sharp, satirical columns on literary happenings in the Lalit magazine, characterised by his witty style. His columns ‘Alaane Falaane’ and ‘Vinanti Vishesh’ were also widely popular. Many of his literary works have been adapted into plays and films. Dalvi was honoured with several prestigious awards, including ‘Natyadarpan Award’ ‘Kokanbhushan Award’, ‘Damani Award’, ‘Kalagaurav Award’ and 'Ram Ganesh Gadkari Award’. Notably, films based on his works 'Chakra', 'Mahananda', and 'Pudhcha Paaul' received the Government of India’s National Award for the Best Screenplay. Rooted in a deep engagement with the complexities of human behaviour, Dalvi’s literature reflects a nuanced, profound, and sensitive understanding of the human psyche.