One day Kallan came up with a bright idea. He put a screen of sackcloth all around his cot. And so a shield of sorts was created. The others followed suit and put up similar scaffolding around the beds they shared with their wives. Bholu pitched in to help his brother and in a few days the two dug bamboos and made a curtain of jute sacks and old blankets. While it was true that the screen blocked the wind, it was still much better than the inferno downstairs in the quarter.
Sleeping on the roof brought about a strange change in Bholu’s character. So far, he had never been much of a believer in marriage. In fact, he had decided never to get caught in the marital trap. Whenever Gama raised the subject of his marriage, he would always say, ‘No, brother, I don’t want to take on unnecessary troubles.’ But with the coming of summer and sleeping on the roof for ten or fifteen days, he soon changed his mind. One evening, he told his brother, ‘Get me married or I shall go mad.’
Gama asked, ‘Is this some sort of a joke?’
But Bholu became even more serious and said, ‘You don’t know … I have been awake for fifteen nights.’
Gama asked, ‘Why? What has happened?’
‘Nothing much, except that left, right … on every side there is some thing happening…there are strange voices and peculiar sounds from every direction. Can anyone sleep in such circumstances?’
Gama laughed heartily from behind his thick moustaches.
Bholu became suddenly bashful. Then he said, ‘That Kallan, he is the limit! He talks such rubbish all night long … And that wife of his … she is as unstoppable as he is! Their kids are lying around sleeping, but do they care!’
As always, Gama was sitting and drinking. When Bholu went away, he gathered his cronies and told them with great relish that his brother could not sleep these days. And when he came to the reason why poor Bholu could not sleep and began to explain it at some length in his inimitable style, his audience began to hold their sides and roll with mirth. The next time Gama’s drinking buddies met Bholu, they teased him mercilessly. One asked, ‘Tell us, what does Kallan say to his wife?’ Another said, ‘So, you get your thrills free … you watch films all night long … that too talkies!’ Others said other, far more naughty things. Bholu got irritated with their bawdy jokes.
The next day he caught hold of Gama at a time when Gama was sober and said, ‘You have turned me into a joke. Look here, whatever I told you was not a figment of my imagination. I am human. By God, I tell you, I can’t sleep! It has been twenty days since I have been awake. You get me married quickly or else, I swear by all that is holy, I shall crack up. Your wife has the five hundred rupees that I have been saving … use it to make all the necessary arrangements.’
Gama twisted his moustache thoughtfully and then said, ‘All right, everything will be taken care of. I shall talk to my wife tonight and ask her to find a suitable girl from among her friends.’
Within a month and a half a bride had been found and all the necessary preparations made. Gama’s wife chose Aisha, the tinsmith Samad’s daughter. She was a pretty girl, knew household chores and Samad too was a decent sort. People in the neighbourhood respected him. Bholu was a good catch — he was hard working and healthy. A date for the wedding was fixed for the middle of June. Samad protested that he didn’t want to get his daughter married at the peak of summer, but when Gama insisted, he had to give in.
Four days before the wedding, Bholu made arrangements for his bride by erecting jute matting around the cot. He fixed stout bamboo poles and made sure the matting was securely tied. He got the cot strung with fresh ropes and bought a brand new earthen pot to keep on the ledge beside his bed. He even bought new glasses to drink from. He did all this with great care and enthusiasm.
The first night he slept behind the sack curtain, he felt a bit odd. He was used to the fresh cool air but decided he better get used to this. He had begun to sleep behind the curtain four days before the wedding. The first night he lay there and thought of his wife-to-be he became drenched in sweat. The voices began to echo in his ears — voices that wouldn’t let him sleep and would make the strangest of thoughts race through his head.
‘Will we also produce the same sounds?… Will the people around us listen to our sounds? … Will they also stay awake all night long because our voices will not let them sleep? … What if someone were to peer?’
Poor Bholu grew even more agitated. Only one worry niggled away at him: is a sack cloth any sort of curtain at all? There are people scattered in every direction; the smallest rustle can be heard in the still of the night. How do people live such naked lives? There is only one roof; the wife lies on one cot, the husband on the other. Countless eyes and ears are wide open in every direction. Even if they can’t see in the dark, they can hear everything. The smallest sound can make an entire picture come to life … What can the sack curtain do? The moment the sun comes up, everything is laid bare … There is Kallan pumping his wife’s breasts … There in that corner lies his brother Gama. His tehmad is undone and lying crumpled in one corner. You can see the exposed stomach of Shanda, the sweetmaker Eidu’s unmarried daughter, peering through a gap in the sack curtain.
The wedding day dawned and Bholu felt like running away, but where could he go? He was caught in a trap of his own making. Had he run away he would surely have committed suicide! But what a disgrace it would bring to the poor unfortunate girl! And the fuss everyone would make!
‘All right, let it be! After all, everyone does it. I shall get used to it, too.’ Bholu tried to bolster his courage as best as he could and brought his bride home.
A ripple of excitement ran through the quarters. People congratulated both Gama and Bholu. Some of Bholu’s close friends teased him and tried to teach him a trick or two for the wedding night. Bholu heard them in silence. Gama’s wife spread the bedding for the newly-weds behind the sack curtain. Gama placed four large garlands of fragrant jasmine flowers beside the pillow. A friend bought some jalebis dunked in milk.
For a long time Bholu sat with his bride in the quarter below. The poor girl sat huddled under her bridal finery with her head covered and bowed. The heat was stifling. Bholu’s new kurta stuck to his body with sweat. He tried to fan himself with a hand-held fan but the air was still and heavy. Bholu had earlier decided that he wouldn’t go up to the roof, that he would spend the night here, below in the quarter but when the heat became unbearable he got up and asked his bride to come with him.
They reached the roof and found utter stillness and quiet. As the bride walked demurely towards the bed, her silver anklets spoke up with every shy step. Bholu felt as though the sleep that lay blanketed all about them was jolted to life. People began to toss and turn on their cots. Others began to cough and clear their throats. Whispers and murmurs began to float in the turgid air. Flustered, Bholu grabbed his wife’s hand and pulled her hurriedly towards the sack curtain. The sound of muffled laughter reached his ears. His anxiety grew. He tried speaking to his wife but the whisperings all around him seemed to increase. In the far corner where Kallan had his bed, the cot began to creak insistently: chur-choo, chur-choo. When it died down, Gama’s iron cot began to speak.
Shanda the sweetmaker’s unmarried daughter got up several times to drink water. Every time her glass knocked against the pot, it sounded like an explosion to Bholu’ ears. The sound of a match being lit came repeatedly from Khaire, the butcher’s son’s cot. Bholu abandoned all attempts at making a conversation with his bride. He was scared that the ears around him would swallow his words and all the cots would begin a chorus of chur-choo, chur-choo. With bated breath, he lay still and silent. Occasionally, he would steal a timid glance at his wife, who lay huddled up in the cot near his. She lay awake for some time and then fell asleep.