Laburnum for My Head Read online

  Temsula Ao

  Laburnum for My Head

  Stories

  Contents

  About the Author

  Dedication

  Laburnum for My Head

  Death of a Hunter

  The Boy Who Sold an Airfield

  The Letter

  Three Women

  A Simple Question

  Sonny

  Flight

  Follow Penguin

  Copyright

  PENGUIN BOOKS INDIA

  LABURNUM FOR MY HEAD

  TEMSULA AO is a professor at the department of English, and the dean of School of Humanities and Education, North-Eastern Hill University, Shillong. She is the author of eight books, including five books of poetry and a collection of short stories, These Hills Called Home: Stories from a War Zone, published by Zubaan–Penguin (2006).

  A member of the General Council of the Sahitya Akademi, she was awarded the Padma Shree in 2007.

  To all storytellers

  Stories live in every heart; some get told, many others remain unheard—stories about individual experiences made universal by imagination; stories that are jokes, and sometimes prayers; and those that are not always a figment of the mind but are, at times, confessions.

  Because stories live in every heart, some get told, like the ones on these pages . . .

  Laburnum for My Head

  Every May, something extraordinary happens in the new cemetery of the sleepy little town. Standing beyond the southernmost corner of the vast expanse of the old cemetery—dotted with concrete vanities, both ornate and simple—the humble Indian laburnum bush erupts in glory, with its blossoms of yellow mellow beauty. The first time it happened, some years ago, surprised visitors to the concrete memorials assumed that it was an accident of nature. But each year as the bush grew taller and the blossoms more plentiful, the phenomenon stood out as a magnificent incongruity, in the space where man tries to cling to a make-believe permanence, wrenched from him by death. His inheritors try to preserve his presence in concrete structures, erected in his homage, vying to out-do each other in size and style. This consecrated ground has thus become choked with the specimens of human conceit. More recently, photographs of the dead have begun to adorn the marble and granite headstones.

  But nature has a way of upstaging even the hardest rock and granite edifices fabricated by man. Weeds and obstinate bramble sprout from every inch of soil uncovered by sand and cement. So every Easter week, the community comes together to spruce up headstones and get rid of the intruding natural growth. The names on individual gravesites are lovingly wiped clean of dust and bird-shit by loved ones; occasional strangers read them as incidental pastime.

  But the laburnum bush will not or cannot reveal readily who or what lies beneath its drooping branches during its annual show of yellow splendour. That particular spot displays nothing that man has improvised; only nature, who does not possess any script, abides there: she only owns the seasons. And the seasons play out a pantomime of beauty and baldness on the tree standing on the edge of the lifeless opulence, spread over the remains of the assorted dead: rich and poor, young and old, and mourned and un-mourned. The headstones in the old cemetery bear mute testimony to duties performed by willing and unwilling offspring and relatives. The laburnum tree on the other hand is alive and ever unchanging in its seasonal cycles: it is resplendent in May; by summer-end the stalks holding its yellow blossoms turn into brown pods; by winter it begins to look scraggly and shorn. Springtime brings back pale green shoots and by May it is wearing its yellow wreaths again, to out-do all the vainglorious specimens erected in marble and granite.

  But the story is running ahead of itself and must be told from the beginning. It all started with a woman named Lentina and her desire to have some laburnum bushes in her garden. She had always admired these yellow flowers for what she thought was their femininity; they were not brazen like the gulmohars with their orange and dark pink blossoms. The way the laburnum flowers hung their heads earthward appealed to her because she attributed humility to the gesture. So she decided to grow a couple of these trees in her own garden which, though not big, could accommodate them if they were planted in the corners, without affecting the growth and health of the other plants. She purchased saplings from a nursery and had them planted at the edge of her boundary wall. She followed the instructions faithfully and hoped that within two years, as the nursery man assured her, the bushes would flower.

  That first year, her new gardener pulled out the small saplings along with the weeds growing around them. After loud recriminations, Lentina bought some more saplings and this time, planted three of them in three corners of the garden. She hoped that at least one of them would survive. But it was not to be. One day she heard loud barking and cows mooing very close to her compound. When she came out to investigate, she found that some stray cows on being pursued by her neighbour’s dogs and finding her gate slightly ajar, had rushed into her garden and were blissfully munching on the plants they found there, including her precious laburnum saplings. She began to wonder about these accidents in her garden ever since she had planted the laburnum saplings. Nevertheless, she did not give up and the third year too, she planted some more saplings of her favourite flowering tree. Almost miraculously they survived the first few months and began to thrive.

  Lentina was thrilled and could not wait to see them bear the magnificent yellow blooms she so admired. But before her wish could come true, another disaster struck. One day, a worker from the health department came while she was out visiting a friend, and sprayed a deadly DDT concoction on the edges of the garden. As ill luck would have it, it rained heavily that night flooding the entire garden. Except the full-grown trees, all her flowers including the laburnums, withered and died. Lentina was devastated and began to think that her efforts at bringing the strange beauty into her garden would never be successful. But whenever she saw these flowers in bloom, on highways and in gardens, the intense yearning to have them closer home began to overpower her. Her husband and children were convinced that she was developing an unhealthy fetish for laburnum and began to talk openly about this in close family gatherings. She could not understand their concern and was inwardly hurt by their seeming insensitivity to beauty around them. But she never gave up her hope of having a full-grown laburnum tree in her garden some day.

  Lentina did not mention laburnum to any one any more; nor did she attempt to plant the tree she so ardently admired and wished to have in her garden. Meanwhile, her husband began to show signs of a strange disease and before any proper diagnosis could be made, he passed away quietly one night in his sleep. The funeral services were long and elaborate because the deceased was a respected and prominent member of society. On the burial day, while the hearse was about to leave for the cemetery, Lentina surprised everyone, including herself, by announcing that she was going to accompany her husband on his last journey. Usually it is men who take part in the last rites at the gravesite and stay on to supervise the erection of the temporary fence around the fresh grave. But when Lentina saw the group, including her sons and her own brothers, stepping out of the house behind the hearse, some impulse urged her to join them. Her words were met with silence, because no one was prepared to voice dissent at such a moment. So the party departed, and in the graveyard while the last prayers droned on, Lentina stood among the assortment of headstones and began ruminating on man’s puny attempts to defy death; as if erecting these memorials would bring the dead back to life.

  Lentina decided that she did not want any such attempt at immortality when her time came, and at that thought she experienced an epiphanic sensation: why not have a laburnum tree planted on her grave, one which would live on over her remains inste
ad of a silly headstone? This way, even her lifelong wish to have such a tree close to her would be fulfilled. In spite of the sombre occasion, she began to smile but when a relative saw her, she quickly went back to looking appropriately bereaved. But the sense of elation she felt could not be hidden for long. So she looked around for her driver and gesturing to him to follow her made her way home.

  That night she could not sleep from excitement: it was as if a big problem had solved itself; but how was she going to accomplish it? It was clear that she could not confide in her relatives or children; so she had to find someone who would understand her deep-seated longing for the yellow wonders. She turned her attention to her servants: whom among them could she trust? Not the cook or the gardener, they had families, and secrets in families are never sacrosanct. Suddenly her mind turned to the driver who had been in their employment for more years than she could remember. He was a widower. She decided to make him her confidant. She would take him for a drive the next day to the cemetery and would explain to him what she wanted for a headstone when she died, and why. But there would be one condition: she had to see the tree bloom during her lifetime. The driver’s name was Mapu but every one called him Babu because Lentina’s grandson called him by that name, unable to pronounce Mapu at first. The name stuck and Mapu good-naturedly did not object even when the older people began calling him Babu.

  The next morning, she sent for Babu and they took the road to the cemetery. This in itself would not appear strange: a widow paying a visit to the grave of her husband. But Lentina’s intention was different; she wanted to survey the still-empty sites and to reserve a spot where she would be buried. It had to be a spot which would not be disturbed in a long while and would not pose any problem for others. When they reached the cemetery, instead of heading towards her husband’s grave, Lentina marched to the extreme corners of the ground, as if looking for a lost treasure. After what seemed to be an arduous trek, she settled on a spot in the southernmost tip of the cemetery and began to nod her head, as if she had found what she was looking for. Babu was puzzled and was almost beginning to see what his young masters had said about madam losing her mind. When she gestured to him to approach, he went hesitantly. Motioning to him to walk faster, she pointed to the spot where she was standing and said loudly, ‘This is my spot, I want to be buried here when my time comes.’

  Babu was taken aback and began to protest, ‘But madam, your place is already earmarked beside my master!’

  ‘Nonsense, it can go to whichever son goes first. My place is here and you are going to see that the Town Committee gives a written commitment on this. But mind you, no one at home is to be told.’ She knew that Babu’s son-in-law was a petty officer in that office. ‘Arrange it with your son-in-law. I’ll pay whatever amount it costs. And also swear him to secrecy just as you are going to do now. Will you keep my secret?’

  Babu, seeing the fire and intensity in her eyes, answered, ‘Yes madam, I will keep your secret and I will see to it that my son-in-law does the same.’ Lentina added, ‘He is not to tell even his wife.’ Babu nodded and said, ‘Yes madam.’ Having made this momentous decision, she stretched her hand to him and with her leaning on him, they made their way to the car parked outside the gate and came home. The old woman looked exhausted and went straight to bed. No one thought it strange, because the funeral activities had taken a lot out of everyone and even the young women of the household were looking forward to an early night. But lying in bed, Lentina was wide awake and planning her next move: she wanted to plant a laburnum tree on her gravesite while she was still alive to ensure that all this trouble of securing the plot and keeping everything quiet had the desired results. She had to see the tree bloom before she breathed her last. Even for this task she had to enlist the help of her faithful Babu. But unfortunately it was almost winter and they had to wait till the next spring.

  In the meantime Babu began the preliminary discussions with his son-in-law about reserving a plot in the cemetery. At first the young man was puzzled; why was his father-in-law talking of such a morbid subject? Was he suffering from some terminal disease that he had kept secret from his own family? But he kept his thoughts to himself. From him Babu learnt that most people wanted the front rows in the cemetery and there was always some dispute or the other about such issues among the more prominent people of the town. Babu’s request surprised his son-in-law because it was for the most insignificant plot in the cemetery. He assured his father-in-law that as far as the location went, he could foresee no trouble at all. But, he told him that there had to be an official request; only then could the Committee take appropriate action.

  Babu informed his mistress about this and once again Lentina was faced with a dilemma. Should she sign on the application form or devise another ploy to keep the identity of the applicant secret? The latter seemed to be a better idea but how was she going to achieve it? As she pondered, she remembered a conversation she had with her husband long ago. They were discussing the prospects of real estate and he had said, ‘If you want to gain from investments in land, go for inconspicuous plots, but ones which have future prospects. That way no one will pay attention when you buy it, and when the town expands, your holdings will appreciate in value many times over.’

  Taking a cue from this, she abandoned her original idea of buying a plot in the already-congested cemetery and went for another visit there the next day. This time she invited Babu to walk with her around the perimeter of the wall, and told him to examine the direction in which the cemetery would expand. Babu at once caught on and asking her to rest a while did a quick survey of the surrounding area and came to a conclusion. He helped her to the car and after they were seated comfortably, he said, ‘Madam, the land adjoining the southern boundary will be the best, though I do not fully understand why you want to do this when a small plot of land would serve your purpose.’ She looked at him with a glint in her eyes and replied, ‘Be patient Babu, time will answer your question.’ With that enigmatic reply she dismissed him and they drove home in silence.

  Once again, Lentina withdrew to her bedroom and began to worry about the prospects of acquiring the adjacent plot of land. The only person she could rely upon to accomplish this was Babu; she decided to entrust him with the job. But before she could talk to him, fate intervened and an opportunity presented itself to her in the person of a man from a neighbouring village who was the son of her late husband’s friend. The friend himself was dead and the son, named Khalong, had been away at the time of her husband’s death. When he heard about it he came to pay his condolences. Lentina noticed a certain dejection in Khalong’s demeanour and when she pressed for a reason he blurted out how bad his financial situation had become as a result of the father’s prolonged illness and many hospitalizations outside the state. He sighed, ‘If only I could sell our land! But unfortunately now that the cemetery has expanded, people only laugh at me when I talk of selling our land adjoining it. They even joke about it and say, turn it into another cemetery and charge rent! Aunty, I do not know what is going to happen to us.’ The poor man was on the verge of tears but Lentina, instead of sympathizing, appeared to become excited about his outburst.

  After what he considered to be a period of rude silence, Lentina turned to him and began to ask for the details of his land. Khalong thought that it was simply her way of expressing concern. But what came next completely floored him. ‘Will you sell that piece of land to me?’ she asked in an excited manner. He could not answer immediately because he was debating with himself whether it would be right to sell her a piece of unsuitable land just because she felt sorry for him. It would amount to taking advantage of her sympathy and would certainly be unethical. Reading his mind correctly, the old woman said, in a gentle voice, ‘I know what you are thinking, but let me assure you that it is not merely out of my concern for you that I am doing this. I have a selfish motive. For quite some time now I have been looking for a suitable plot where I want to be buried. And before you say anythi
ng, let me add that I do not wish to be buried among the ridiculous stone monuments of the big cemetery. I need a place where there will be nothing but beautiful trees over my grave. So, tell me now, will you sell your land to me?’ Khalong was convinced that Lentina meant business and uttered a feeble ‘Yes’. But the woman was not done yet; she continued in the same serious tone, ‘Listen, I will buy the land only on one condition: you are to tell nobody about the transaction yet, not even your wife. If you agree to this condition, tell me how much you want and come tomorrow with the documents and we will finalize the deal.’

  Khalong was so overcome by the unexpected turn of fortune that he stated an amount beyond his expectation. He was even more shocked to hear her say, ‘Ok, come tomorrow at eleven.’ He did not wait for any formal dismissal after she gave her instructions, hurrying out of the house in a daze, still wondering whether all that had transpired was actually real. Lentina knew that had she bargained a bit, the price would have been reduced but she felt that heaven’s gifts should be accepted without any murmur, and simply proceeded to put together the amount needed for the next day’s transaction. Once again she enlisted the help of Babu who was to be a witness to the deal. When Babu reminded her about the negotiation with the Town Committee and that he would have to explain the abrupt halt to his son-in-law, Lentina smiled and told him, ‘Let him think that it was a wild scheme thought up by someone going senile.’

  As instructed by Lentina, Khalong came with the thumb-print of a relative on a paper where the Agreement was inscribed. The deal was accomplished without a hitch and Lentina became the proud owner of a plot of land right next to the south wall of the old cemetery. Lentina ordered Babu to engage some labourers to erect a temporary boundary fence. It was only when the fence was almost complete that her sons came to know about their mother’s ‘crazy’ plan. They remonstrated with her, they sulked at having been left out of the deliberations and even threatened to move out of the compound if their mother treated them like rank outsiders; they were upset that a mere driver had usurped their rightful place in her schemes. But even then, they were not aware of the full extent of her designs for the new cemetery. She tried to pacify them by saying that she did not want to burden them with tasks which she and Babu were perfectly able to handle. The sons kept quiet but the elder daughter-in-law wanted to assert herself and began to accuse Lentina of putting too much trust in a servant and this, she said, amounted to insulting them. Lentina, smarting from the unfairness of the charge, blurted out something which she overheard during her husband’s funeral and had decided to keep it a secret. It was an argument between the two daughters-in-law about who was to pay for the funeral expenses. The elder one had said, ‘It is not fair that we alone should bear the costs, you and your husband should pay half of it.’ To this the younger one had replied, ‘How can I say anything? Tell that husband of mine, if you feel like it. But I am not going to give a rupee towards this unnecessary show.’ Everyone knew that the younger daughter-in-law had money of her own and that gave her an edge over the other. She continued, ‘And if you think that we are going to waste money on some grandiose headstone for the old man, think again. Such pretensions this family has!’