Travails of Innocence

By Jeff Tikari

Winter was a favourite season with the young: when the sugar-cane grew high; when one could be hidden from view within a few feet of entering a field; when lovers could meet clandestinely within the embrace of the thick curtaining cane.
Chandhu, tall, broad-shouldered, his facial fluff turning into a beard, met Rukhmoni clandestinely there. They made eye contact there; they made hand and lip contact there; they clasped each other and made full body contact there; and after their fifth or so contact, Rukhmoni emerged from there with a light step, a radiant smile, and deliciously pregnant, though still unaware of it.
Chandhu was horrified when, a month later, Rukhmoni coquettishly whispered the news into his ear. He was stricken. He was trapped. He desperately looked to escape. Rukhmoni standing close to him in their hide-out was shocked at his reaction – her hand flew to cover her mouth; her large clear, innocent eyes stared bewilderingly at his remonstrations. Tears pricked the inside of her eyelids and poured forth copiously. She was stunned; her brain was numbed. She emerged from the foliage this time with stumbling steps, her fingers quickly sweeping the tears from her cheeks. She pulled her sari over her head and proceeded quickly to the privacy of her room...face hidden, tears streaming down, and heart thudding in her heaving chest. She saw nobody in the house and was grateful to escape unobserved to her room.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeff Tikari
• Release date: Aug 13, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465724540

Jeff Tikari

Author and Homeopathic doctor. Jeff has written nine books and has been published in India, USA, UK and Canada.

Book preview

Chapter 2

Every evening as dusk approached Bhis Singh would prepare to leave for work. His wife, Gauri-bibi, served him an early supper of vegetables eaten with chapattis and flushed down with sips from a glass of milk. After this frugal though nourishing meal he collected his well oiled lathi, set a turban on his head and was off on his rounds, harrumphing and clearing his throat loudly to alert all that he was on patrol.

As he strolled along the village’s unpaved roads, inhaling the varied smells of cooking ensuing from the houses lining the street, he would be hailed and greeted by families and invited into the courtyard for a cup of cha and a chat. By the end of the evening Bhis would consume over a dozen cups of tea and over a period, realized he had got quite addicted to and looked forward to these steaming, sugary cups of tea. The casual chats with the families had assumed an important aspect and were his main source of information and a pulse to the health of the village.

The two Policemen also tried to be friendly and helpful for they were the eyes and ears of the Police post in the nearby town. Their friendly bonhomie, however, concealed an alertness hidden behind their watchful eyes. The relationship between Bhis Singh and the two policemen was balanced precariously. Both sides ensured that they didn’t tread on the other’s territory or sensitivities. Both sides maintained a show of profuse candour, politeness and hearty affability.

Chapter 3

Rukhmoni slept on the open verandah at night with the men, but was allotted a room next to her parents’ when her father noticed one morning that there were blood stains on her sheet. She was a young adult now and needed some privacy. Her uncle and brother did not have individual rooms. They kept the clothes they were not wearing hanging from pegs in the rough wall.

Bathing was undertaken standing on a cemented plinth next to the well. The women usually had a small semi enclosed area where they bathed. Rukhmoni also used this enclosed area. She noticed she no longer looked flat chested like boys; shedding her clothes in view of all now embarrassed her even though they were family.

She would sit in the sun with her silky hair spread across her shoulder to dry and then use a large toothed comb to remove any knots. Her luxurious hair hung down to below her waist and was the envy of the other girls. Chandhu visited on the days Rukhmoni washed her hair. Bloody unreal, her father said to himself, how does the boy know on which days my daughter washes her hair? Does the aroma of her herbal ‘home-made’ soap carry to his nostrils two fields away?

There were a lot of other ‘bloody unreal’ things that her father did not know and which would more than just amaze him. He did not know that his simple, virtuous, ingenuously sweet daughter had had an abortion as recently as two weeks ago.

Chandhu’s mother had picked her up early one morning on the pretext that she would take her to a visiting circus in town. Once there, she was rushed to the local hospital where an abortion was expertly performed. She was out of the hospital in two hours none the worse for the experience, and not fully aware of what had taken place so swiftly.

Chapter 4

Winter was a favourite season with the young: when the sugar-cane grew high; when one could be hidden from view within a few feet of entering a field; when lovers could meet clandestinely within the embrace of the thick curtaining cane.

Chandhu, tall, broad-shouldered, his facial fluff turning into a beard, met Rukhmoni clandestinely there. They made eye contact there; they made hand and lip contact there; they clasped each other and made full body contact there; and after their fifth or so contact, Rukhmoni emerged from there with a light step, a radiant smile, and deliciously pregnant, though still unaware of it.

Chandhu was horrified when, a month later, Rukhmoni coquettishly whispered the news into his ear. He was stricken. He was trapped. He desperately looked to escape. Rukhmoni standing close to him in their hide-out was shocked at his reaction – her hand flew to covered her mouth; her large clear, innocent eyes stared bewilderingly at his remonstrations. Tears pricked the inside of her eyelids and poured forth copiously. She was stunned; her brain was numbed. She emerged from the foliage this time with stumbling steps, her fingers quickly sweeping the tears from her cheeks. She pulled her sari over her head and proceeded quickly to the privacy of her room…face hidden, tears streaming down, and heart thudding in her heaving chest. She saw nobody in the house and was grateful to escape unobserved to her room.

But Suti had observed all: seen her stooping run to her room. And was struck…struck with a cloying desperation to find the reason for his sister’s unhappiness. She had emerged hurriedly from the cane field so something had taken place there. He would surreptitiously observe and