A Journal of Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwavidyalaya

time of her death the old woman did not
bequeath this kothi to the sisters. This
hag was a drunkard and an inveterate
gambler. When dead drunk she would assign
Sunny Cradle to anyone on whom her
eyes fell. No one knows what the legal
documents say but the general belief is
that the kothi legally belongs to the sisters.
Even the hillock on which the kothi is
situated goes by the name of Memsaheb’s
Hillock.”
“Memsaheb’s Hillock! What a name,
Nurie! By that token, they must also be
calling it Memsaheb’s Kothi.”
“Saheb, it seems you are new to this
place. Otherwise you would not have come
to me to enquire about this kothi. Who
is not familiar about the ‘saga’ of this
house? There are so many stories current
about it. Some say it’s a haunted house
and even now the old woman’s soul stalks
this place. Others think that it is the abode
of ghosts. Saheb, to tell you the truth,
some even hold the view that these
Memsahebs are mad ....
“What these sisters talk among
themselves is anybody’s guess. I don’t
understand a word of it. And how can
I? The foreign tongue they speak is a
harlot. Even after so many years it has
refused to be mine.”
“Nurie, when you don’t understand
their language how have you been able
to carry on with them for so long?”
“Arre, Saheb, what’s there to
understand? Don’t take this Nurie. for a
stupid woman. She can easily get the hang
of things. What else could they talk about
except those glorious times and the glorious
hill station that Shimla used to be—kothis,
bungalows, villas, clubs, gymkhana, when
life was an unending round of fun and
more fun.
Oh, how the British ruled over the
country. But with Independence everything
was gone in a trice. The tents that the
Britishers had pitched centuries ago were
uprooted in a minute and the vilayati
sahebs sailed away to their country in
shiploads. They were all gone but not
these two sisters. God knows why they
remained pinned to this place. If asked,
they replied, ‘We were born here. This
country is dear to us’. Their parents are
dead and gone and have become dust
unto dust. Whether they have any kith
and kin only The One Above knows. Oh,
yes, about ten years ago-my man was
living at that time-they went on a sojourn
to Vilayat. We thought they were gone
for good. But back they came after having
a jolly good time there. That day has
merged into today and they still wander
inside and outside the kothi following each
other like shadows-still virgins, I mean
spinsters.’’
“Nurie, have they no old friends living
in the city? Somebody must be coming
to meet them?”
110 :: January-March 2012