By Shevlin Sebastian
EDITOR’S PICK OF
THE WEEK – KITAAB.ORG (April 3, 2022)
Sawant Singh pressed the accelerator. There was a
roar from the exhaust as the truck gained speed. He was on the Bhopal-Mumbai
National Highway No. 3. Sawant was carrying a truckload of oranges for traders
in Mumbai.
As he stared at the road, he could feel the sun
beating down on the truck. The cloth of the turban over his forehead was wet.
He could feel the sweat gathering in his armpits. Next to him was his
assistant, Rupesh. A Dalit, he lived in the same village of Tarn Taran Sahib as
Sawant.
Sawant looked at his watch. It was nearing 1 p.m.
It was time to stop for lunch. After a kilometre, he turned left onto a narrow
road and travelled for half a kilometre. Soon, he saw ‘Bhupinder’s Dhaba’.
There was a large parking area in front. Sawant could see several trucks, a few
cars, and two-wheelers. He shut the engine, stepped down, and walked towards
the restaurant. Rupesh followed, a dark-skinned, thin man in brown trousers and
slippers.
Once inside, Sawant headed to the large washing
area. He stood in front of a tap and splashed water on his face a few times.
Sawant rubbed water on his neck and washed his forearms, too. He used soap to
wash his fingers. Thereafter, he wiped his face and hands with a towel, which
he placed around his shoulders.
There were a lot of truckers, with their broad
shoulders and thick hands, having lunch. Sawant selected a table where nobody
was present. He ordered a plate of tadka dal, roti, and a small bowl of onion
with chilies and salt. Rupesh sat at the same table but two chairs away.
Sawant kept one ear cocked as he heard people talk
about the terrible roads they had driven on. Others complained about the high
price of fuel, the hot weather, and the sluggish economy. People were always
complaining, he thought. He did not enjoy that. He had an attitude of ‘live
and let live’. And he preferred to keep quiet.
Sawant did not like to pontificate. And that desire
became even less as he pondered over his personal life.
Sawant is the son of a farmer who grew wheat. He
was the third son. The first two sons helped in their father’s fields. But
Sawant wanted to do something different. He wanted to travel a bit, but since
he had studied only up to Class 10. So, he became a truck driver.
He had married a girl called Uma. She was 13 years
his junior. She belonged to a poor family. Sawant agreed to marry her because
Uma was beautiful. She was fair-skinned, with an aquiline nose, doe-shaped
eyes, and red lips. And she had lovely, thick breasts. It filled his entire
palm. Uma was reluctant to marry a man who was so much older than her. But her
father told her that Sawant belonged to a traditional farming family. And he
had a steady income. He would look after her well.
And indeed, he had. They had two children, both
sons, one studying in Class 7 and the other in Class 5.
There was one problem in this idyllic situation.
Uma was suffering from venereal disease. Sawant was the culprit. On long truck
rides, he would stop at places where prostitutes serviced the truckers. Unlike
his fellow drivers, Sawant did not like to use condoms. As a result, he got
infected. But he did not know about it. By this time, he had returned home and
impregnated his wife.
Sawant got himself treated in Chandigarh. But he
was afraid to take Uma to a big city, lest the secret came out that he was
having sex with random women. So, he had taken Uma to a physician in Tarn Taran
Sahib, who prescribed paracetamol. But Uma showed no improvement. She had
painful urination and vaginal discharge during periods. She felt weaker day by
day. Uma could no longer look after the children. Sawant’s mother stayed with
them and ran the household.
Sawant would take a week to return. He knew he
would have to rush Uma to Chandigarh, 229 kms away, and get her treated at an
excellent hospital. Otherwise, he feared she might die.
Sawant started the truck, and they set out once
again.
Yes, Sawant knew, he had a weakness for sex. He
liked to have it every day. But Uma was not that interested. Sawant did not
force himself on her. He preferred when she was in the mood. So, his urge remained,
and he took it out on the prostitutes he met on the road.
He had managed to keep another secret, too.
Sawant had another family in Mumbai. This Marathi
woman, Renuka, worked as a prostitute. Sawant had become her customer at Kamathipura,
the red-light area. Over 5000 prostitutes lived and plied their trade in that
area.
He liked her high spirits and abandon in making
love. She gave her all during the act. She was chocolate-coloured, with hair
going down all the way to her waist. One night, he had asked why she was so
passionate when it was a commercial transaction.
Lying on top of him, she stared into his eyes and
said, “I like sex.”
Soon, he began frequenting her whenever he was in
Mumbai.
After two years, she begged him to free her from
the clutches of the pimps and the brothel keeper. Sawant said he was helpless.
He explained he could not take her anywhere since he was a married man and had
two children. She said it did not matter. All she wanted was to get out and
start a new life.
So, one day, he went for a session late at night.
They slipped out without anybody knowing. They took a room in a hotel in
Andheri.
As they sat next to each other on the bed, Sawant
said, “Now what?”
Renuka placed her face in her palms and stared at
the floor.
She had nothing to say.
“Where is your hometown?” said Sawant.
“Ratnagiri,” she said.
“How far is it from Mumbai?” asked Sawant. He had
not gone to Ratnagiri before.
“Nine hours by bus,” she said.
“Would you like to go home?” he said.
She shook her head.
“My parents allowed me to go away with a stranger,”
she said. “They never found out whether or not I was okay.”
Sawant pondered over what to do. But he could not
find any solutions.
It was Renuka who provided it.
“There are social groups who care for prostitutes,”
she said. “But I don’t know their numbers.”
Sawant had a friend in Mumbai, Balbir Singh. He had
been his schoolmate. A good student, Balbir had got a management degree. Now he
worked for a multinational company.
The next morning, Sawant called him and asked him
about the social groups.
Balbir immediately looked it up on Google it and
provided him with names and phone numbers.
Sawant called one number. The woman was forthcoming
and helpful. The office was in Lokhandwala West, which was not very far away.
Sawant took Renuka to the office.
There were posters on the wall. In one, a woman was
being led out of what looked like a prison cell by another woman. The caption
said, ‘We are here to save women. To give them a better life.’
The woman behind the desk wore spectacles and had
pulled back her hair into a ponytail. She was in her late thirties. Renuka told
her of her escape and how she was afraid the pimps would abduct her and take
her back.
By her reaction, Sawant knew she had heard the
story many times before.
The woman nodded and said, “Nothing to worry. We
have safe houses where you can disappear for a while. They will lose interest
after a couple of months.”
So Sawant left Renuka with the lady and returned to
Punjab in his truck.
Later, Renuka told Sawant she had begun work in the
NGO which had rescued her. Her job was to advise the other girls who had
escaped like her. She also mopped the floors, cleaned desks and windows, and
filed documents.
Sawant met her whenever he was in Mumbai. He hired
a hotel room for their encounters. Things went on.
One day when Sawant met Renuka, she told him she
was pregnant.
Sawant asked her to abort the child. Renuka stood
her ground and said no.
“You have the experience of being a father,” she
said. “Let me have the experience of being a mother.”
“But the child will have no father,” he said. “The
boy should have the father and mother with him at all times.”
Renuka saw the funny side. “What makes you think it
is a boy?” she asked with a smile.
Sawant smiled, and said, “It’s an intuition. Who
knows? Listen, my advice to you is to abort.”
In his mind, he thought, ‘Messing with a woman
leads to complications. It is not only sex. They want more.’
“Sawant, it is easy to say that, but I can feel the
kicks. This baby is alive. I can’t kill it,” she said, reaching forward and
taking his calloused palm to place it on his stomach.
After a few seconds, Sawant could detect a kick. He
remained silent. He would have preferred an abortion, so that he did not have
the extra responsibility of a child.
Renuka said, “In front of society, you could
pretend to be the husband.”
Sawant remained silent for several minutes. Renuka
also kept quiet. She did not want to provoke him.
Sawant pressed his lips together and said, “Okay,
but I will not have my name on the birth certificate. Get somebody else. There
can be no proof anywhere.”
Now it was Renuka’s turn to gaze at Sawant. He was
heavy set and weighed at least 95 kgs. Despite his bulk, she knew Sawant was a
gentle person. He had a distinctive aroma about him—a mix of talcum powder and
perspiration.
She felt she needed to compromise on this matter.
So, she nodded, and said, “Accepted.”
Renuka asked whether she could start living in an
apartment.
“What about the expenses?” he said. “Who will pay
the rent?”
“I will,” she said. “I have saved over the past
three years. I won a state lottery of Rs 3 lakh eight months ago. I kept it a
secret from you.”
Sawant stared at Renuka. Every time he met her, she
revealed a new facet of herself.
“Clever,” he said and smiled. He felt relieved she
had some money with her.
They found a flat in Borivali. Her office was in
Andheri. She had to travel 17 kilometres to reach work. But Renuka looked
happy. The landlord accepted Sawant’s claim that he was a truck driver. He
would be on the road most of the time.
Renuka settled down. She bought a bed, a gas stove,
steel plates, glasses, and bowls. Through Google Pay, Sawant sent Rs 5000 every
month. He felt obligated since he was going to be a father now.
In the government hospital, Sawant’s intuition
proved to be right. It was a boy. But the baby did not have Sawant’s fairness.
Instead, he had Renuka’s coffee-coloured skin.
Renuka hired a maid to look after the baby when she
went to work after three months. She breastfed him whenever she was at home.
Otherwise, the maid gave baby food. Sawant dropped in whenever he came to town
and played with the child.
In two years, the boy Raj exhibited the same energy
as Renuka. He ran around the house constantly. He always jumped into Sawant’s
arms whenever he came home, and said, “Uncle, uncle.” Sawant always gave him a bar
of Cadbury’s chocolate.
Sawant realised problems would arise when Raj
became an adult. He would ask Renuka who his father is. Of course, Renuka could
always say his father had died. But to deny paternity would be a painful
experience for Sawant. Since they were not married, their child was a bastard.
And Renuka could not prove she had married the dead man. There would be a lot
of complications ahead.
Although Sawant did not enjoy it much, he started
wearing a condom. He was afraid Renuka would get pregnant again.
A few years passed.
Things were stable on both fronts. Sometimes,
Renuka thanked Sawant for saving her life.
But Sawant knew his secret could be exposed one
day.
As he rode on the highway, his thoughts drifting
between this and that, a call came on his mobile.
It was his older brother, Manpreet.
“Brother, Uma is not in good shape,” he said. “What
should we do?”
Sawant’s heart started racing fast. It would take
him a week to return.
He had to bite the bullet.
“I will call you back,” he said.
Sawant turned the lorry at the next crossing and
moved into a service lane. He parked the vehicle and stepped down. Sawant did
not want Rupesh to hear his conversation. He strode away in the blistering sun
and found a tree about 50 metres away.
He stood under it and called Manpreet.
“Take her straight to the government hospital in
Chandigarh,” said Sawant. “While there, ask for Dr. Rakesh Mehra. Tell him Uma
is suffering from gonorrhoea.”
“What!” exclaimed Manpreet.
“I will explain everything when I return,” said
Sawant. “Don’t waste a moment. Tell the family I insisted you alone should take
Uma to Chandigarh.”
“Okay, Bhaiyya,” Manpreet said and cut the phone.
Sawant and Manpreet were close since there was an
age difference of only two years. Sawant was sure Manpreet would keep his
secret.
Sawant immediately pressed the buttons on the phone
to send Rs 10000 through Google Pay.
He regretted his decision of not taking Uma to
Chandigarh. Because of his mistake, Uma had suffered. He prayed to Waheguru
that it was not too late. Without her, their children would feel devastated
since he was hardly at home.
He saw Rupesh relieving himself by the side of a
drain.
Sawant stared into the distance. There were many
trees with oranges hanging from them. It was a soothing sight. ‘Working with
nature is always peaceful,’ he thought. ‘Like his father. He was always calm
and positive. People who work on the land have a reverence for Mother Nature.
He knew that one day when he became old and could no longer drive a lorry, he
would become a farmer. But he had to buy farmland in the next few years.
Otherwise, he might not have any money in his old age for this investment.’
After ten minutes, Sawant returned to the lorry and set out.
