Cabbage

Thakuri Thulbau was a reputed name in the town. The Thakuri­­ like his grey moustaches, proud black bhadgaule topi and small smiling eyes, had earned the reputation over long years of dignity and social responsibility. The kingly caste had nothing left to rule over and had seen many of his brethren fall down… in reputation. But this bausaab, as they were called with respect, enjoyed a reign of respect over the people’s hearts. So what if he had lost the old money and land?

When ever he gets down to the bazaar, one mile walk down from his house on the hill near the jungle , he never forgets to carry one or two things for some house in the along with his highly rejoiced dignity.

Times have changed a lot in the 65 years he has lived. The road from Pokhra to Butwal was built in front of his eyes, through the bank of this small river aandhikhola. Today the sandy bank of the aandhi is booming with six to seven story buildings. His own life had taken many turns like the town itself.

He went to India for few years, came back to relive the dignity he had washed away with dishes with dirty water in Dilli. An unwelcome experience, equally unwelcome memory.

Youth passed in a flash and life started burning day by day after that. Year by year he emptied himself on the bhatti of Gursini Kanchhi.
Its now many years he has been a regular customer to her. Regular, loyal, dignified customer. Compared to all the other people gathered at the bhatti – kale tamang, damai sahinla, or akkami, prem bahun – he was a gentleman.
A gentleman jadyanha.
He never shouted on the way back to his home every evening like others.
He never tried to comment at Gurusini Kaanchhi even after her husband’s death.
He never picked up a fight.
He never drank in debit. A peculiarity so rare.
After gurusini kaanchhi's husband died things did not change much.
Few of the customers also died in the way. Few went away.
But those who remained or those who joined new were similar.
Nothing changed.
Yes... the curfew in the town had changed the routine. They could no longer drink till late at night and shout on the way home at night.
And the police also had shifted to the small hillock leaving the town. As the danger grew.
But the emptiness kept growing. Faces emerged – faces evaporated.
Few faces drowned in glasses- few grotesquely smiling outside on the round mirror of the steel glasses.

By now you must have made a judgment that Thakuri Thulbau was a heavy drunkard. But who are you to make any judgment on him?
Who are we to decide on any thing about him?

One house near the bhatti was of Sita.
Sita had a small piece of land where she grew few vegetables. Her husband had a small shop in the town, a small buffalo and two children.

The day was just similar to all the other days except for the turmoil in side him. Thakuri thulbau had already taken three glasses of the kodo-raksi from the Gursini Kanchhi’s bhatti. After he felt that he had finished the last ten rupees note in his pocket, he was trapped.
What could he do? He could have asked for money to the men in the bhatti- men who had taken from him so many times. And he had refused to take it back.
Can I cry in front of all these men- men without dignity and honor- ?
Can I beg in front of Gurusini Kanchhi?
-No. I will never drink in debt.
But he knew he had already drunken those glasses of raksi for which he had no money.
He came out from the bhatti.
Kanchhi did not worry because there had been many occasions when thulbau had many times forgotten to pay for the drink but had come back within minutes.
She knew him he will not forget. He was not like many of the other customers whom she had to remind with harsh words or to deny further trade before they apologized financially.
He looked at the house of Sita. She was the daughter in law of his friend – Tallare Thula.
Though a bahun he was not like other bahuns. They had spent quite a lot of time together in dilli where he had gone after running away from his home. Tallare Thula had helped him get a job in a house. He had stayed with him for three months in that small room behind the garage.
He remembered the days when both of them used to go to the mela. He smiled.
And so much time had passed. They were married. Children were grown. Married. And have children. He felt like a moving history of the town in himself. And then one day he was dead. He heard the news early in the morning when he heard the shankha blown he asked who was it?
THULA.
Life went on.
He did not remember it was the same day or the next day when he was going to the bhatti he had seen the daughters and sons of Thula.
They were going to the pandhero in their white clothes... to eat their meal of grief – meal without salt.
Rice cooked in lot of ghee and fruit and honey.
He did not know why he remembered him now… suddenly!
Then also he used to go to the house though the children did not receive him with the hospitality what he used to get from Thula.
But they are just like his own children – he thought.
And why – he had helped them so many times.
He looked at the house with the affection which he had not felt for years.
No body was there in the house.
Then he saw the healthy cabbage that was growing in the garden.
He stood for some time staring at the house.
Sita was like his own daughter in law. With such a love and care she offers him tea when ever he passes by. After all he was friend of their father. And he used to help them.
He remembered when he had given them the tree branch for only ten rupees when he could have sold it for fifty to any body else.
Now why will not they help me when I am in need?
He held the cabbage in both his hands; broke it free from the shrub and walked to the market.

The news spread like fire.

Thakuri Sanhila was the first one to know. Well may be Gursini Kanchhi was the first one to know but she preferred to keep quite. She was indifferent to such surrenders. It was a matter of now or later… but she knew every one surrendered. So she took the money from him and slid it under her blouse, in her breast. Indifferently.
Then she said – doesn’t matter bausaab! Who can have the courage not to trust you? - When he said he had the money in his pocket but had forgotten to give it that time. You know with time memory also is lost and see my hair is so grey now…. - he had smiled. She smiled back from out side – laughed inside. But she had seen many. And learnt to be indifferent. Her bent of lips straitened with another demand from Prem bahun.
But for Thakuri Sanhila it was a new experience. Rather it was a new opportunity.
When Thulbau had in front of the whole village slapped him for beating his wife when she was pregnant, ha wasn’t able to cry. It was his daughter who had died only one month old twenty years before.

When Sita came back to the house from the fields with some grass for her buffalo…her son told him about the cabbage.
She shouted at the highest of her voice-abused at the thief without knowing who had done that, thrashed her two children for leaving the house un-attended and kept ranting for almost half an hour. Gursini Kanchhi came out from her house; taking out time from her busy schedule- looked indifferently, judged something, shrugged her head and went inside.
Sita continued while milking the buffalo how all rascals lived around , could not see any body doing good, how she had to live among all enemies and survive and how nobody could see her happy.
Her children looked at the plant without the cabbage- the symbol of their lost happiness wiping the tears from their eyes and waiting for their mother to finish the milking so that they could get some happiness back. In some other symbol.
In the evening Thakuri Sanhila came to her house.
- So how are you Sita?
- Oh! I am fine.
It was normal for Sita to be intruded occasionally by the customers of the bhatti.
But suppose he means some business today. He stopped longer than usual.
- Where is that cabbage you were growing so well?
That was enough for Sita to start the crusade at the unknown enemy of her happiness and prosperity.
- Well… I had seen our Thulbau going to the market with a cabbage today. I wonder where he must have got that from.
She did not speak for quite some time.
- Well …I don’t want to say he picked up from your garden but just wondering … and now I see that your cabbage is stolen.
She remembered how Thakuri thulbau had refused to take that money for the bamboo he had given to her for the shed. She did not speak, just hoped Sanhila would leave. He left.
- Sita remembered just a few days before she had requested Thakuri Thulbau to bring her a branch which she will put as support for her simi after the cabbages are finished.
Thakuri Sanhila was speaking to the gathering in the bhatti moments later-
- I heard that somebody has stolen Sita’s cabbage.
Few heard him. Few understood and nodded and others were just too busy with the glasses and thinking how they will sneak for tomorrow’s drink.
- And somebody told me Thulbau had gone to the market with a big cabbage that he sold for fifteen rupees today?
He continued. Gursini Kanchhi was worried in the beginning but looking at the indifferent crowd drowning in the steel glasses she stopped worrying.
But the news spread like fire.
Next morning when Sita got up at five she saw a huge tree branch placed in front of her door.
After a few minutes a shankh blew from the hillside.
Somebody shouted –
THAKURI THULBAU!!!