Seven Stairways: Part Ii

Copyright © 2018 by Kamlesh Chauhan.

Library of Congress Control Number:             2017916497

ISBN:                   Hardcover                      978-1-5434-6134-3

                            Softcover                        978-1-5434-6135-0

                            eBook                               978-1-5434-6136-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

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without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Rev. date: 01/24/2018

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

What Readers Have To Say

A Message To The Readers

Foreword

Prologue

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank many people who saw me through this novel: to all those who gave me moral support, who read, wrote and offered comments, who allowed me to quote their remarks and assisted me in the editing, proofreading and design stages.

My special gratitude is to those who inspired me to write about the history, customs, rituals and beauty of Hinduism, as well as India. I could not have finished my book without the inspiration, deeds and help of Ratan Singh Shekhawat, Vikram Singh Bhadoriya, and the young Ruchir Tiwari.

I want to thank my cousin Ajay Verma and his wife Neeru for helping me promote all my books in India. Thank you for making my stays in Delhi pleasant and memorable.

I wrote this book in the memory of my parents Laxami Rajput and Pritam Dass Rajput. My mother was from a princely family, while my father’s family lost their property for an unknown reason. Despite their differences, my parents were deeply in love with each other, serving as an inspiration for this book. It was this love that led my mother to sacrifice all her jewelry to save his family. They were blessed not only with good looks, but also with impeccable personalities. Even today they guide me to the path of morality and honesty.

I want to thank my late nephew Sunil Rajput, who left us when he was only a preteen. His death is still painful for my family.

I also want to thank my siblings Raj Verma, Surinder Rajput, Samir Rajput, Deep Rajput, Suman Rajput and their children for their unconditional support and love.

A special thanks to my two beautiful, intelligent children – my daughter Minu Kiren Chauhan and my son Ranjun Kalu Chauhan, who supported me through thick and thin. Your love and care will always stay with me.

I want to also thank MS Verma, who translated the book from Hindi to English. Special thanks to Harshi Syal Gill for the invaluable help she provided by correcting the grammar of Seven Stairways Part 1. Born and brought up in Nairobi, Kenya, where she did her graduate and post-graduate studies in literature, she is an author whose creative efforts have found expression in various genres. She has published a series of poems titled Reflections, and has also had her poetry published in several magazines and anthologies. She has contributed to several Indian television shows, and has written reviews and articles that were published in Canada, India and the United States. Her literary essays have been published in the collections, Thus Says Kabir, and Exploring Gender in the Literature of the Indian Diaspora. Gill is also the co-author of the collection of stories, African Quilt – Stories of the Asian Indian Experience in Kenya, and the play God Minus – Buddha: The Light of Asia.

WHAT READERS HAVE TO SAY

Kamlesh Chauhan has written such a romantic journey, starting from a previous birth to the present. This novel will transport you into the height of passionate love. It has to be read by everyone in this world.

"Gauri was born in India…her unique style of writing is known to bring both major and minor characters to live in a way that makes the readers happy. It is impossible to put her books down. Seven Stairways is a mystical tale about the life of Rajputs, their customs and beliefs about a person living seven lives." – Raj K. Rajput (Author of Holy Woman Bibi Lajo: A perfect disciple, Trishul Yoga of Ancient Perfect Masters – Part 1 and 2, Samadhi – coming soon)

As a general, but universal rule, her way of writing has involved into my psyche like a city square where numerous roads of talents converge. Gauri’s multifarious talents were unfolded to me one by one, leaving me spellbound. She has observed life closely and lived it more intensely than words can describe. She carries the influence of Munshi Prem Chand, and gives glimpses of Mahadevi Verma, amongst other prominent Indian poets and writers. – Prof. M.S. Verma.

"The book Seven Stairways, Part 2 written by Ms. Kamlesh Chauhan was a delightful read. It meticulously describes the fascinating Rajput culture and traditions, weaving in and out of the present and past effortlessly. The book, which is interspersed with snippets of poetry takes the reader on a ride through picturesque Canada and the breath-taking valleys of Kashmir, leaving one with the impression of just having visited those lands. The narrative is imaginative, descriptive and captivating."

- Ms. Veena Suresh

A MESSAGE TO THE READERS

I want to thank my readers for their patience, as they read some of the most difficult and complicated Indian names the characters have in Seven Stairways. Rajputs are from a royal lineage, who were scattered all across the country after the occupation of the British. They still carry the royal customs, authenticity and etiquettes. Most Rajputs are honest, kind and humble. History and Bollywood hasn’t done justice to this warrior clan. By the end of this novel, you will learn a lot about Indian culture, its customs, rituals, the caste system as well as modern day India. You will understand how the caste system has been manipulated for their own use by history, media, the film industry and politicians.

The world is multicultural. We should be always be proud of our accomplishments, sufferings and our roots.

Kamlesh ‘Gauri’ Chauhan.

FOREWORD

By Nidheya Suresh [Editor]

Editing Seven Stairways (written by Kamlesh Chauhan and translated by MS Verma) was a fulfilling experience. The book takes you on a unique journey of a woman repeatedly beaten down by circumstances. We see her story through the love she shares with two men: her devoted husband Bhanwar Singh and her childhood friend Rochak. Written with vivid descriptions of nature and environment, Seven Stairways truly draws in the viewer with an interesting portrayal of love, and what it feels like to be an Indian woman in an ever changing world.

PROLOGUE

How naive is my stranger!

God alone knows of his innocence!

His eyes and lips full of passion,

The colors of the rainbow reflecting on his face,

His approach, unique,

Bearing the imprint of his personality.

His ideas are novel.

He makes me weep frequently,

And insists on knowing the reason a million times.

He wants to know who haunts my subconscious at daybreak.

Who pervades my thoughts in the evenings?

For whom does my heart ache?

And who lends ears to the secrets of my soul?

I plead with thee not to desert me halfway,

Promise to walk the path of life with me.

We’ve been together in many a previous lives,

Yet your blank looks betray your indifference.

Oh, my beloved,

No one will ever love you as much as I do.

The break in the eons old association,

Will turn my being to ashes without you.

This life is coming to a stop,

Yet I don’t see a light at the tunnel’s end.

I won’t be able to pause for a minute,

For I have willed this life to you.

I shall write your tale,

With the moon as the pen under the dark sky.

The sky and the sea seemed to be in a very quixotic mood. The colorful rays of the sun lent beauty to his beloved Usha, covering her flawless body with a pure white sheet akin to the spring time beauty. As she was walked slowly and steadily, she stealthily tried to peek through her veil to make sure no one could take the slightest of glimpse of her exotic figure. Her gold anklets danced with high-spirit. The beautiful music wanted to embrace her love in silence. The deep sea on the other hand, seemed ready to pull her in with his arms spread out, as if he had been waiting for long before the sun, her love, could catch a glimpse of her. The waves rose up to touch her soft feet, and kiss them.

Be it cloudy or sunshine, Bhanwar Singh and his wife Rajeshwari regularly went for morning walks. In fact, they had formed a group with their friends known as ‘Canada Walk.’ The group included a few retired doctors, and a lot of ones who had just recently graduated.

On the last day of every month, the group held a meeting at a country club nearby. After their morning walk, they would have breakfast together and discuss matters regarding health and life. The group consisted mostly of Indian immigrants, much like Bhanwar Singh and Rajeshwari.

Indian culture and healthy Indian food were often topics they discussed. Most of them missed the delicious breakfast they could get back in India. Despite replicating it in Canada, the food didn’t feel the same.

At times, the group would meet for dinner and have a picnic under the starlit sky. They would often eat by the soothing log fire, and experience being away from Canada and the general human inhabitation. They would then play antakshari, a game in which a player would sing a song, and the next player had to sing a song starting from the last letter of the previous song. They would often sing old movie songs, passing time in this manner. When they were tired, they would go to Bhanwar Singh and Rajeshwari’s seaside residence and spend the night there.

Their house was the meeting point for all their Indian friends. The couple found great pleasure in their company, feeling close to their motherland. It wasn’t easy to provide for such a large number of people, especially in a country like Canada, but Bhanwar Singh’s heart was big. He was a Kshatriya, an Indian warrior cast who were known for their large heartedness and generosity. The couple were Rajputs, and never turned their back on their moral duty.

CHAPTER 9

Bhanwar Singh walked alone on the wet sea shore, lost in his thoughts. A serious disposition accompanied him, and the usual smile was missing from his ecstatic face. The sun was moving to its western abode, and the light was gradually turning from pink to golden and then a fierce yellow. Other regulars at the beach couldn’t understand why he was alone that day. His eyes were seemed to search for Rajeshwari, who wasn’t accompanied him.

The waves missed her as well, and moved along spiritlessly. The wind ruffled Bhanwar Singh’s hair, and the cold waves wet his feet, trying without luck to replace Rajeshwari’s playfulness.

The birds flew in the sky in pairs, chasing each other as if playing hide and seek, rejoicing the arrival of the morning. Their orchestra made the surroundings truly enchanting. They would dive into the water and come out, flapping their wings, spattering droplets of water everywhere. Their songs echoed a message of celebration all around.

A group of young rowers could be seen some distance away, rowing away their boats. It appeared as if they were moving towards the sky, aiming to kiss the mountain peaks. They sang together in their dialect, soothing to the ears, yet unintelligible. They wanted to witness the sky and earth coming together at the horizon, as a marriage party witnesses the union of the bride and groom.

A plateau amongst the mountains provided safe havens for the rowers. They would often row there to rest their limbs and relax. Once they were better, they would return. Occasionally they were tempted to have a rowing competition, while some of them sang along to the sound of the waves hitting the boats.

Whenever he found himself alone by the water, watching the fishermen with their nets, he would fantasize himself to be a fisherman, trying to catch Rajeshwari, a fish. She’d sing to him teasingly, challenging him to sing along. As he attempted to hum a tune, he would throw the net to catch her, but all he was left with was the sound of the waves.

Bhanwar Singh had bestowed all the world’s happiness upon Rajeshwari, yet it seemed as if she suffered from some undefined personal pain. Sadly, he was a doctor of the body, not of the soul, and couldn’t understand what she was going through. Walking alone, it bothered him even more. Despite knowing better, he kept wondering if he had done anything to make her feel this bad. He had showered her with love and affection, but she always betrayed a sense of sadness in her isolated world.

His mind drifted to some of the earlier days of their marriage. Despite the passing of time, the fire between them still burnt with a searing intensity. Bhanwar Singh was neither a singer or poet, but whenever he attempted to sing a song, Rajeshwari would often tiptoe behind him and close his eyes. She would correct his lyrics and mimic him, eliciting laughter from her. That alone would transfer him into a poet and a singer, albeit only for a few moments.

He remembered the first time they had gone to India with their children Ashutosh and Ganga. It had been for their hair cutting ceremony, also known as mundan. Bhanwar’s parents had insisted upon having the ceremony in India, causing for them to fly there. It is deemed right to perform the ceremony in temples. In Rajasthan, it is performed in the Bhairon Devta temple, while in Haryana, it is done in the Sheetla Devi temple.

The bitter events of the past rarely let a man live in peace. On the first chance it got, it would bring up old memories, ready to take away from the present happiness one felt. It fwas like the gathering of dark clouds and torrential rains during the summer season. That feeling was attacking Bhanwar Singh with vengeance that day. Old memories haunted him, and he helplessly bore the pain, having no one to complain to either.

Without Rajeshwari by his side, he moved across the Capilano Suspension Bridge which was akin to the Lakshman Jhhoola in India. As he approached the totem pillar, he stopped in his tracks, recalling the day his son Ashutosh wanted to go to his sister Ganga when they had been at the Lakshman Jhhoola.

As he stared at the totem, his mind drifted off to the Jalianwala Bagh. His