Waiting…

Or… the thousand (more or less) words that are hidden in one picture!

Basanti sat on a large rock looking at her reflection in the still, clear water of the pond by which she sat… waiting.  

The midday sun shone brightly on the sparse countryside around her, but a large tree provided a pleasant shady nook for her, as she waited. She idly broke off small twigs from the bush beside her and tossed them into the pond, admiring herself in the sharp image in the pond. Basanti knew that she was pretty, but in the small village of Ramgadh, she knew that it wasn’t just her looks that made her popular. On most days, her sharp, chiseled features were streaked with sweat and dust, as she ferried people on her horse cart, usually from the nearest railway station, and sometimes to the nearest big town of Belapur. Blessed with a sunny disposition and an optimistic outlook, she hardly ever looked back on the years of toil, from the time she had been orphaned and taken in by her widowed aunt and how she had grown to adulthood holding the reins and trying to control Dhanno, her equally strong-willed companion on the dusty roads.

A playful smile continued to light up her face as a more recent memory intruded on her reminiscences. Had it been just a few weeks, when everything had changed in the sleepy little village of Ramgadh? Suddenly, it seemed like it had become so much more lively and abuzz with excitement – and there was no doubt that was because of the two newcomers to the town. She remembered the exact day when they had arrived. She had been waiting, as she usually did when the single train that stopped at the Gaon Kheda station, hoping that there would be some custom. Most days, there was nobody – the train would stop, and she would see the station master step out to have a brief word with the engine driver, and then, with a sharp whistle, the train would slowly steam out of the station. That day, however, two men stepped out of the train, dressed in city clothes and carrying small backpacks. Basanti jumped off her cart and as was her wont, was already chattering away even before they got near her. The tall one went and sat in the back, but the shorter, handsome one boldly climbed on to the seat next to her. She was a bit shocked – but she knew that she could handle herself if he tried anything smart with her. And of course, he was handsome … She had already started her cart and traveled half a mile before they had a chance to tell her where they were headed – to the home of the Thakur, in Ramgadh.

The sun had climbed up higher in the sky, and was now directly overhead, and Basanti still waited by the pond. She liked the still atmosphere around her, and the rare opportunity she had to sit still and remember. She felt a thrill as she recounted in her mind again, the series of events of the past two months. She recalled that day at the station, and the flash of curiosity as they mentioned the Thakur. Basanti, of course, had known Thakur Baldev Singh all her life – after all, he was the largest landowner in the village, and everybody in Ramgadh had worked in his farms or his house. His large sprawling house, the biggest in the village, was on top of the hill overlooking the whole village. The villagers had grown up hearing of his famous exploits as a police officer, chasing and capturing the bandits who roamed the hilly ravines in their district. His most famous catch, of course, had been capturing Gabbar Singh, the most dreaded dacoit. He was so notorious that little children would be scared by their mothers and burrow into their beds at night at the mere mention of his name. Basanti remembered how the whole village of Ramgadh had been waiting to welcome the Thakur back after news of Gabbar’s capture had reached them. Then, there was that horrific tragedy – Gabbar had escaped his jail cell, and beaten the Thakur back to Ramgadh, and massacred his family. Then, Thakur had carelessly stormed into his hideout alone, blinded with rage and the thirst for revenge, and had been captured by the bandits. Gabbar’s sadistic final act of revenge, for the extreme humiliation and seething rage he had felt at being chained hand and foot in the court, was to chop off the brave police inspector’s hands, leaving him forever unable to catch Gabbar again.

Basanti was starting to smart in her impatience by now – she was sure she had been waiting for more than an hour. She stamped her foot in anger, just as her horse Dhanno would, when she had been left standing too long. She looked out over the dusty haze that obscured the narrow path leading to the pond from Ramgadh. She could see a little shepherd boy, standing near the fork in the road, next to the tree. She couldn’t see anybody else – no puff of dust raised by the horse’s hooves or any other sign that he was coming. Where was he?

Soon, however, the smile crept back into her eyes as she remembered her first impressions of Veeru. Initially, he seemed like a crude and vulgar city slicker, always ready to take advantage of her and being a little too free with his hands all over her. Very soon after they had arrived, he had pretended to teach her to shoot his pistol, when she had gone to pluck raw mangoes from the trees – but she had quickly figured out his intentions. It didn’t help that his tall friend, Jai, would keep making laconic jokes to make her feel even more embarrassed. But then …. his pranks were so endearing. She blushed with embarrassment as she recalled how she had made a pleasant fool of herself, thinking that Lord Shiva himself was speaking to her in the village temple, urging her to marry Veeru – until Jai had pointed out that it was Veeru, standing behind the idol booming away as if he was the voice of God!

Basanti giggled, and felt a wave of happiness wash over her, as she sat still, reminiscing, waiting by the pond. She wondered at the strange friendship between these two strong men – fierce fighters and sharpshooters, but also playful and friendly. Her aunt had told her the story, dripping with outrage, about how Jai had come to her, asking for her hand in marriage to Veeru. But instead of singing his praises, he was just brutally honest, listing all of Veeru’s faults as if they didn’t matter at all! And then, that scene that Veeru had created that made her almost die of embarrassment – when he had climbed on top of the village water tank, totally drunk, threatening to jump off if she didn’t agree to marry him!

Gradually, however, he had won her heart – in fact, the pair had won over the hearts of all the villagers in Ramgadh, as they set about the dangerous task that they had been hired to do – to capture Gabbar Singh, alive, and deliver him to the Thakur. She remembered that dangerous gun fight in the central square of the village on the day of the Holi festival – the color that they had so happily sprinkled on each other had been soon mixed with the red blood of the villagers, as Gabbar launched his surprise attack. It was Veeru and Jai who had saved the day, skillfully targeting the robbers on their horses, and forcing them to flee. That had been the day when Veeru had showed another side of his character – not just the bumbling clown, always up to some funny prank, but as a serious man with a mission, and a fierce loyalty to his friend that revealed a hidden depth of character. It was perhaps on that day that Basanti had totally fallen in love, and was sure that she had, improbably, found a mate for her life and soul.

Basanti continued to wait … and wondered what was keeping him so busy. Was he drunk again, so early in the day? Surely, his friend Jai would have stopped him and reminded him of their assignation? She stamped her foot again as she told herself that the one thing she would do after marrying Veeru would be to ban every drop of liquor from their homes. That was the only thing that she would ask from her husband – and she was sure that her Veeru would do that for her – wouldn’t he? Maybe it would take some time – maybe her aunt would know how to cure him of his fondness for liquor. Basanti continued to daydream, and now her fantasies took flight. They would live in a small house that she would ask him to build for her on the edge of the village. And of course, soon, there would be a child… no… children.

Crrraaackk……

Basanti heard the sound of a step just behind her – and at the same instant, looked into the pond and saw the reflection of a hideous, frowning face just behind her shoulder…

Thanks for reading … of course, nothing in this is original, and all the credit goes to Salim-Javed! But if you belong to that generation which will always consider this the best movie ever made, I hope you enjoyed this!