The Purdah
Intro: A purdah is a curtain usually hung on the front doorway to deflect the unwanted and prying gaze. The practice of purdah in certain societies, also means the screening of women from men or strangers.
Raul stands in his balcony and stares at the new house that stands in front of his mansion. He is yet to get used to the din of a neighbour. With rusted grille, mossed and cracked walls drawing maze patterns, withering red plaster flashing the bare brick, his mansion has weathered three generations.
And then there was the purdah- the ever alert and always on duty purdah, that kept the gravitas secure behind its opacity, hung at the main doorway, its faded colour blending with the jaded mansion, but serving the purpose, nonetheless.
“Now we have to share our walls with lentil- eating peasants…” Papa would have derided, if alive. His father abhorred the nouveau riche.
Raul’s small real estate business helps him scrape through. A sheep amongst wolves, two months back he had done a big business though he had lost a pound of flesh there, his heart. Like Bassanio, he was broke and had to sell the mansion’s garden front. The dough had quietened moneylenders for sometime.
A fresh wall stands where the hedges were, the garden was levelled for construction. It pained to stand in the balcony. Raul went inside.
At night, Raul and his wife shift on the mattress. The noise of sewing machine stings them like scores of mosquitoes on a mission. His wife murmurs, “ If only my father had not fallen for your pompous papa. All ham, no let.”
Raul doesn’t retaliate. Deep down he knows that she is right.
Subi smokes on his terrace while admiring the elephantine silhouette of the mansion. Sometimes, he wishes to catch a glimpse of the interiors of the mansion, and then scoffs at the purdah which stays fixed, relentlessly, come wind or rains!
With his hard work and some bank loan, Subi has left the ‘thatched roof life’ behind. He has to work harder to repay the loan, but for now he is happy. This mansion as a backdrop pushes him to work more.
He sews till late in the night.
It is Subi’s house warming ceremony today. His kids are running in and out, their laughter filling every corner of the freshly painted walls. His friends and relatives are proud of his success; he is ignoring the tinge of jealousy in their congratulatory wishes.
Once the ceremony is almost wrapped, Subi decides to share sweets with Mr. Raul, like a neighbour. Throughout the land paper formalities, Raul had barely participated in any conversation. Subi had sensed Raul to be a taciturn man, his eyes were to him what the purdah was to his mansion- a shield from any form of intrusion.
As Subi enters the mansion gate, he hears loud altercations and then few men step out of the doorway fuming; burly weaponed men. He stands in a fix when his conundrum is answered by a thud. He rushes towards the door to catch the last glimpse of the purdah crashing on the floor, non- ceremoniously. Mr. Raul is lying on the floor, unconscious. The purdah and the rod are plonked next to him; the guard that had stood for years finally succumbed to Raul’s weight while he attempted to save his fall. His wife is frantically crying now. Subi keeps the sweets box aside, lifts Raul up and steps into the hallway.
He looks around, his eyes wide with surprise
Raul’s papa had not changed his opulent lifestyle, long after the princely states had acceded to the democratic government. The mansion was the last royal connection, gifted by the erstwhile prince to his father. Soon the huge mahogany dining table, chandelier, gramophone and porcelain vases were pawned one by one to maintain his status quo.
Raul had argued only once with papa when his rosewood lectern was being taken away. It was dear to Raul, each motif and intricate carvings are still imprinted in his mind.
The mansion stood as the only royal proof.
Subi lays Raul softly on the floor and sits down next to him. The mansion is almost empty with no furniture around. The walls are chipped and The purdah did a good job till it’s last breath.
Raul slowly regains his consciousness but immediately lowers his eyes to avoid Subi’s. The purdah that stood guard to his dignity, lay torn on the floor, baring it all. Subi excuses himself and leaves the mansion. That night, Subi sits longer on his sewing machine.
By next morning, a new purdah is ready to guard the mansion.
