Heer

Huh! Useless offspring of the British! They had the audacity to call us illiterate cows! If he had not been the General’s son, I would have smashed his face right there. Anyway, I quickly left from there with my friends because Iqbal chacha ji had arrived there with that same British officer who was roaming around last night when I was dragging Sahib home.

Sahib is the son of my late uncle.

I remember all the British officers, but this one is new. I only know that he is a Lieutenant Colonel.

Uff! It is only a matter of my father’s honor, otherwise if I see any white man, I would shoot him down with a gun!

I am Heer. My father, Baldev Singh, is one of the biggest cloth and grain traders in all of Punjab, which is why British officers frequently visit our house. My father is loyal to the Crown, but I am not. The difficulty is that I cannot express this openly, otherwise some action could be taken against him. That is why I quietly serve my Motherland.

What else can my father do? He has a family to run as well. And to be honest, I love him immensely, because he is not a conventional father like most men.

You heard me scolding the British, did you not? All of that is because of my father. Teachers used to come to our house to teach English, which is why I am the most educated girl in my area including the boys.

But we also have some duty toward our motherland. That is why, as much as I can, I help my revolutionary companions whether it is with money or by giving them important information about the British.

Whatever I happen to overhear from my father in casual conversations can prove useful. I am extremely skilled at drawing information out of people.

Everyone went their separate ways toward their homes, but my best friend Nooran and I headed straight toward the library.

The librarian of the library, Shafaq Ahmed, is Nooran’s fiancé and a revolutionary. That is where all of us revolutionaries gather. It was only because of Shafaq bhaijaan that Nooran and I got the opportunity to do something for our country, because after my uncle’s death I had sworn that I would free my soil from these rulers at any cost.

My uncle, Sahib’s father, was a Subedar. At least that is what my father believed. But in reality, he was a revolutionary who was fighting against the government while living among them.

I came to know this only after I joined the party. Now I feel proud of his martyrdom. I am secretly completing the unfinished work he left behind.

As soon as we reached the library, we went down into the storeroom beneath it, that is where all the revolutionaries were present.

“You two are late today?” Gurbaksh Singh asked. He was an educated young man and also skilled in making bombs. His brother, Ajmer, was our informant inside the British army.

“Heer was busy scolding the British,” Nooran said, suppressing her laughter.

I immediately pinched her sharply to shut her up.

“Sorry, brother Gurbaksh. From now on we both will be careful,” I said in a serious voice and sat down in my place.

I handed Shafaq bhaijaan the money that I had secretly saved for myself by manipulating father's accounts, and I gave all the information that I had gathered from my father during this week.

After the meeting, I began looking for something to read in the library, because Nooran was meeting her fiancé.

As soon as I entered the library, that old, faint fragrance rising from the pages of books gave me a different kind of peace. It felt as if an old friend had returned, eager to narrate stories just to me. The sound of pages turning echoed in my ears like music, sweet and filled with calm.

I am in love with books. This love is not merely a hobby, it is a passion. Every word, every story takes me on a new journey.

With that same fervor, I moved toward the section of English books in the library, in search of something new to read. While searching, my gaze stopped at a book, Joseph Davey Cunningham’s The History of the Sikhs.

My heart leaped. This was exactly what I wanted. I eagerly extended my hand, but just as my fingers touched the spine of the book to take it, another hand from the other side of the shelf reached for the same book.

The very next moment, the book was jerked out of my fingers. Of course I was bound to be angry. I saw it first, so it is mine. Without wasting a second, I pulled the book back with a sharp tug.

“Be gentle; this is a very delicate book.”

A deep, masculine voice came from the other side.

I blinked, but immediately composed myself. “Of course, I know that,” I said quickly, “but perhaps you need to understand it as well, since you were trying to snatch it from my hands.”

My mind was spinning. Which British man feels the need to read Sikh history?

Before I could question him, Shafaq bhaijaan stepped in between us. Without saying anything, he took the book from my hands and walked to the other side to give it to that man. My mouth fell open in shock. How could he do this?

But what angered me even more was when that British officer calmly said, “No worries, you can give the book to her.”

My blood boiled. Is he trying to do me a favor?

I said angrily, “I do not need anyone’s favor, Shafaq bhaijaan. He can keep it and learn how rich our culture is and how many brave warriors they had to kill to plunder us.”

And I stormed away from there in fury. Well, stormed might not be accurate, because Nooran was practically dragging me along, suppressing her laughter. “You are something else, Heer,” she whispered softly.

Just then, a voice came from behind.

“Excuse me, Miss!”

When I turned around, I saw that same Lieutenant Colonel walking toward us and the very same book was in his hand. Which means.....

He was the only one in the library.

“You can have it,” he said, extending the book toward me. There was politeness in his tone, but my anger had still not cooled.

“I don't want it anymore. Thank you so much.”

But as I began to walk away with Nooran, he said again, “No worries, you read it first; I will read it later.”

What sort of drama is this? My temper flared even more. Is he trying to do me a favor?

In anger, I taunted, “Oh, the British now wish to learn from the people they call savages?”

But the reply that came left me startled for a moment.

In a calm, soothing voice, he said, “Knowledge does not belong to the Crown alone, Miss...”

I lifted my chin interrupting him. “It surely seems like the Crown thinks otherwise.”

He gave a faint smile, as if he had already expected that answer. “Perhaps. But that is why I am reading, to know the truth beyond orders.”

I was about to say something more when Nooran quickly apologized and pulled me away from there.

“Have you lost your mind, Heer? He was a Lieutenant Colonel! What if he had done something?”

“So what! I am not afraid of anyone’s father,” I snapped angrily, jerking my hand free from hers.

Nooran looked around, as if making sure no one was listening. Then in a low but firm voice she said, “Fine, you are not afraid of anyone’s father, but at least think about your own. Heer, what will you do if that Lieutenant Colonel takes action against Baldev chachajaan because of your foolishness?”

I fell silent. Nooran was right. These British are twisted minded anyway. There is no telling when or for what reason they might decide to take revenge.

She looked into my eyes and said one last time, “Learn to control your anger, girl. Our purpose is far greater than these childish arguments of yours. Control your emotions, otherwise our struggle will remain incomplete.”

As soon as I reached home, “Sat Sri Akal, Bebe ji!” The moment I said it, my face lit up. All my exhaustion disappeared the instant I saw my mother. She wrapped me in her arms.

“Sat Sri Akal, my queen daughter,” she said lovingly, kissing my forehead.

“When did you return from Lahore?” I asked, because both Bebe ji and Bappu ji (parents) had gone to Lahore for some work.

Just then, a playful voice came from behind, “Are you going to give all your love to your mother, or will you save some for your father as well?”

I turned around and saw Bappu ji standing there with my favorite jalebis in his hand. My heart leaped with happiness.

“Bappu ji!” I ran toward him, and he hugged me tightly and fed me a jalebi with his own hand.

“Where is Sahib?” Bebe ji asked.

“He must be playing outside. I will go and bring him,” Bappu ji said as he walked away and somehow managed to find that little storm and bring him inside.

Uff, this boy. He has absolutely no interest in staying at home. The moment Sahib came inside, I began complaining about him, telling everyone how he had made me run all over the village the previous night.

Bappu ji started laughing, but Bebe scolded me gently, “Enough now, leave it. Come and eat your meal properly.”

After dinner, I went to my room. In the dim light of the lantern, I was reading Anandmath when suddenly today’s incident came back to my mind.

Why was that British officer reading Sikh history? Why, after all?

This question kept circling in my mind. But then I focused my attention back on the book. Whatever it may be, I have no need to think about him.

Yet after that day, I heard more about that new British officer. His name is Henry Caldwell. His father is a Field Marshal, which is why even as just a Lieutenant Colonel he carries extra arrogance.

But there is something strange about him. Unlike the other British officers, he does not seem to be interested only in hunting and drinking.

Whenever you see him, he is buried in some book or wandering through different corners of the city, as if trying to understand Punjab.

What need does he have to understand Punjab?

This is not his home.

I will see how much he can truly understand our soil.

Because this soil has been soaked with the blood of the British, and one day it will be completely free.

Taking out rations and clothes from Bappu ji’s warehouse is not an easy task, but as much as I can, I help in my own way. After handing over the supplies to Shafaq bhaijaan, I went straight to the library to look for a new book.

But I could not find anything to read. Every book had either already been read by me or I simply did not feel like picking it up.

Defeated, I was just about to leave the library when suddenly Gurbaksh Singh extended his hand.

I stopped and looked. In his hand was the very same book I had wanted to read that day, The History of the Sikhs. The one that could have been mine, if Shafaq bhaijaan had not given it to the Lieutenant Colonel.

My eyes first fell on the book, then on him.

“This is the book you wanted to read, Heer, isn’t it….”

“Miss Virk,” I corrected him midway. My tone was firm. Gurbaksh Singh’s face fell. “When I do not address anyone informally, then I absolutely do not like it when someone speaks to me that way, brother.”

My voice was calm but clear. I walked away from there without taking the book.

Nooran followed me, and as soon as we stepped outside the library, she asked directly, “You do know that Gurbaksh Singh likes you, right?”

I stopped abruptly and looked at her angrily.

“In the path he has chosen, there is no place for love, Nooran.” My tone was stern. “We have tied our shrouds upon our heads and sworn to free our soil. And as for me, if I ever have to bind myself to someone, then it will only be to the one my Bappu ji chooses.”

I pronounced every word firmly, so that Nooran would understand that this was not a matter for jokes. “So it would be better if you do not make such foolish remarks again.”

Nooran fell silent.

We reached home. Nooran is going to stay here for a few days, because her parents have gone to Kashmir for a relative’s wedding.

“Why did you not go to the wedding?” I asked Nooran later that night when we were alone in my room.

“Ammi and Abbu will return only after two full months, and I want to see the fair with Shafaq,” she replied with a laugh.

Yes, the summer season has begun, and next month the fair of Baisakhi is about to arrive. I, too, have a great desire to go to that fair, but I do not know whether Bappu ji will even allow me to go or not.

“You are foolish. Who would ever miss the chance to go to Kashmir? I have such a strong wish to see Kashmir at least once,” I sighed deeply.

Nooran burst into laughter. “Your father is not going to send you anywhere. Yes, if your husband takes you, that would be a different matter.” The moment she teased me, I pushed her hard. “I will tell Gurbaksh.....ahhh!”

Without wasting a second, I twisted her ear. “Stop this nonsense, Nooran!”

She was trying to suppress her laughter, but I was not in the mood for jokes at all.

“We are in my house. If someone hears you, I will become a martyr without even an enemy’s bullet!” I glared at her angrily. “Do not even bring this thought into your mind again. There is nothing in my heart for that arrogant man, and there never will be. So do not overuse your imagination, and quietly go to sleep.”

Nooran lay down with a sulking expression, but sleep had completely left my eyes.

Her words were still circling in my mind. I know that Bappu ji has already given me a great deal of freedom, and I have taken full advantage of it. If I now get entangled in matters of love, it will stain his honor.

And anyway, there is no place for love in my life.

I have already dedicated my life to Mother India.

The days began to pass. I maintained as much distance from Gurbaksh Singh as I possibly could, so much so that he would never feel that there might be anything in my heart as well.

Because there is not.

And there never will be.

Today is the fair of Baisakhi. Sahib has been jumping around since morning, as if his happiness has no limits. We began the day at the Gurudwara, and after offering our prayers before Guru Granth Sahib ji, the heart felt at peace.

After returning from there, Bebe and Bappu ji went back home, and we lost ourselves in the liveliness of the fair. Sahib had already insisted on taking the rides first. Seeing my baby so happy brought comfort to my heart. Yes, he is my baby after all. After my aunt passed away, it was I who raised him like a mother.

While Sahib was enjoying the swings and Shafaq bhaijaan was keeping an eye on him, Nooran and I went to buy bangles.

Every girl has one weakness, bangles, their tinkling sound and bright colors feel as if they adorn the whole world. After buying bangles, we also ate hot, freshly made jalebis. Their sweetness made the day feel even more vibrant.

As evening approached, the boys began performing jhoomar. The fragrance of Punjab’s soil, the beat of the dhol, and the boys dancing jhoomar, everything felt like a dream.

Then we girls performed giddha as well, and all the tiredness vanished in a single moment. The sun was setting, and we too began to head back.

But while leaving, something felt strange. Nooran and I were passing through the market when I sensed that someone was watching us.

At first I thought it must be some ordinary person. But then my eyes fell upon him, it was that same British officer, Henry Caldwell. He was standing beside his car, simply watching me.

For a moment, my heart grew uneasy. I felt anger, and also surprise. What does he want?

I paused and looked into his eyes for a brief second, deep blue eyes, yet they did not hold the hatred that is usually present in the eyes of British officers. There was something else there, as if he wanted to understand me, as if he wished to read the secrets of my life.

Huh. What will these British ever understand about us?

I immediately turned my face away and walked ahead with quick steps. But in some corner of my heart, there was a strange restlessness. Why does this Lieutenant Colonel keep crossing my path again and again?

Days passed, and Nooran’s parents returned. She went back to her home, but even today we both had to meet at the library for an important meeting.

We were just about to leave when Bappu ji suddenly came home. He does not usually return so early, so at first I found it a little strange.

But when he stopped me from going to the library, my heart suddenly began to race. Until today, he had never stopped me from stepping outside the house.

“My child, where are you going?”

Adjusting the dupatta on my head lovingly, I replied, “To the library.”

“Do not go today.”

I looked at him in surprise. “But why?”

Bebe ji said sternly, “Do not question so much. Come inside.”

For a moment, I looked toward Bappu ji, hoping he would say something. But he did not stop Bebe ji. Instead, he turned to Nooran and said,

“Daughter, you go alone today, and whichever book my princess wants to read, bring it for her.”

Nooran looked at me hesitantly. I looked back at her with unease, but then she slowly nodded and left.

A strange restlessness filled my heart.

“I wanted to go to the library...”

Bebe interrupted me midway. “Heer, your childhood days are over now. Learn to manage the household.”

My breath caught in my throat. I slowly looked at Bappu ji and asked in a trembling voice, “What do you mean?”

My heart had grown uneasy. I understood the meaning well enough, but there was still a small hope inside me that perhaps I was wrong.

But Bappu ji smiled and gently stroked my head. “I have found a prince for my Heer.”

His words echoed in my ears like an explosion. The ground seemed to slip from beneath my feet.

He said this and walked away, but I remained frozen in place.

“Bebe ji, I do not want to get married!”

My mother asked in surprise, “Why not?”

“I just do not want to!”

Bebe lovingly caressed my face and said, “Child, everyone has to get married one day.”

My eyes filled with tears. I slowly shook my head. Inside my heart, a storm was raging.

Bebe’s voice grew slightly stern. “Heer, is there something you are hiding from me?”

“No…”

“Then what is the reason for refusing? Or are you dragging your father’s honor into the dust? Is there someone else you wish to marry?”

For the first time, I saw doubt in my mother's eyes for me. As if her trust in me had begun to waver. But how could I explain to her? There is no one in my life. My purpose is something else entirely.

Wiping my tears, I said, “No, there is no one. But I do not want to leave you and go anywhere.”

Bebe burst into soft laughter. “Foolish girl. One day every daughter has to leave her parents.”

She lovingly kissed my forehead. And just then, voices were heard from outside.

Bebe ji smiled and said, “It seems they have arrived.”

She instructed me to stay inside and went out herself. The voices became clearer.

When they entered the courtyard of our haveli, a voice echoed that shook my entire world.

A voice I had never even imagined to hear in this place. A voice that had the power to change my destiny completely.