Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Translated from Telugu by Dr. Haribandi Lakshmi, EFL University
“Ammai, why don’t you sleep? How long do you sit like that? What is the use of crying? Lie down and relax a little my dear. I want to come there but the train is moving. I fear I may fall down. Sleep a while Vimala dear.”
Saradamma pleaded.
Vimala who was sitting near the window keeping her head between her knees suddenly lifted her head up. The little coupe was bathed in a dim, blue light. Her mother, father, maternal uncle, brother-in-law and his wife were all sleeping. Saradamma was calling her daughter time and again, pleading with her to sleep.
‘Okay, I’ll sleep’ said Vimala. She stretched her hand and reached for the leather bag that was in a corner. She had a feeling that a new blood was flowing through the fingers that were holding the bag. ‘Is she really grief-stricken as all these people are thinking?’
The rails made a noise as if they were saying ‘I don’t know … I don’t know….’ Vimala turned her head and looked through the glass at the string of lights seen at a distance. Those lights were running so fast that it looked as though they were provoking people to chase them. ‘I wonder what would Yamuna and Sarat be doing at home. Perhaps they are distressed by the death of their father and the misery of their mother…. Perhaps they are watching a cricket match on T.V….’
Vimala felt like laughing. Keeping the bag that was in her hand away on the berth, she lay down and closed her eyes.
The same scene appeared before her eyes, time and again though she doesn’t want it…. The pigeons …. hundreds….. thousands ….. flying freely in the blue sky ….. what a brightness! ……what a freedom!…. the whole world was looking new as if she was looking at it for the first time …..
‘Close those windows ….. what is there to see out over there! …… except the wretched dirt and dust. Go to bed. It’s past ten. What is that oily face? Go and wash it. All that junk food is not good. Eat these fruits. What! You eat them just like that? Don’t you wash them? ….. What? - sitting on the terrace in the moonlight and chatting! It is quite damp…. It’s snowing…. Come inside….Getting drenched in the rain! I hate it …..that slush and water…. Chi…chi….come inside….’
That voice will never command her again. It doesn’t order her saying ‘eat this alone…..drink this alone…..be like this…..’
Vimala opened her eyes with fear. Did she utter anything? Is anyone observing her?
All were sleeping. Vimala sighed. ‘What is this? Why is she thinking like this? The one who passed away is her life partner, Suryam. Her husband….the father of her children. But still she is not heart-broken…. She doesn’t know where all those memories, that haunt her against her wish, are leading her.’
There was a sound of someone moaning softly.
‘Vanaja! See whether the baby is awake?’ – her brother-in-law, Ramakrishna was waking his wife.
‘I’m awake. I got a stiff neck as I had been lying only on one side….’ Vanaja said yawning lazily.
‘When are we going to reach Varanasi?’ she asked him.
‘By tomorrow evening’ he replied.
‘It’s very exasperating. I feel hungry now. I couldn’t eat then. What kind of a food was that? I didn’t like that packed food those insipid curries… By the way, I forgot to ask you….what are you going to give up in Kasi?’
‘Keep your mouth shut and sleep. Foolish questions’ Ramakrishna was irritated.
Vanaja mumbled something.
Vimala felt like laughing.
There was no reason for Ramakrishna to get angry. It was a good question. It is said that after taking a bath in Kasi one should give up something, which he or she likes. What does she like? She doesn’t know. She has no interests of her own any more. The interests of all others have become hers so much so that she does not even know what her own interests are.
Her thoughts were galloping like horses without any reins…..to somewhere and sometime in the past….the incidents that throttled her voice…many….so many.
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Probably she was ten years old at that time.
‘Eating rice with mango pickle would be wonderful on a rainy day mother.’
Saradamma was annoyed.
‘Like your face it would be. That chilli does not agree with you at all. You will complain of burning sensation in the stomach. Eat this dal and brinjal curry. It would be delicious if you mix them with Sambar.’
‘Chi… I don’t want that. I’ll eat only mango pickle.’
‘Look at this! What sort of a girl is she? See, how adamant she is. She doesn’t want anything except the pickle. When I made a good curry why do you long for the pickle….eat this…. I say eat this…..’
Then there was no question of watching the rain falling….or eating hot rice with mango pickle….nothing of that sort……. The only thing that she could do was sitting in the closed room with the lights on and eating rice with sambar while putting up with mother’s scoldings…….
Vimala sighed.
I have to go to a botanical tour, father. Everyone has paid up the money. All science students must go. Didn’t brother go last year?…..
‘Perhaps he did. But why do you compare yourself with him. I’ll speak to your Principal. Heavens won’t fall even if you don’t go. Go to our village tomorrow. You can have as many flowers and leaves as you want. Our fields are full of them.’
‘Chi…. I don’t go there. Should I not go to the tour? When everyone is going happily….’
‘Where will you go? Give up your studies. Dirty rascals. Everyone gets smart with me….’
What will happen if the wings of the bird, flying merrily in the sky, are chopped off cruelly?
‘B.Ed. is the best. Teaching is the best profession for women…..’
‘I can’t teach children…. or shall I go for BLIC?
‘Did I not say no?……. Here is the application. How well-mannered and cultured should the daughter of Mr. Yajulu be?…….
‘Yes ….. yes….. daughter of Mr. Yajulu. Great …..chi…..’
Vimala turned to the otherside. A teardrop in her eye shone brightly in the light.
‘He is a government employee. He works in RMS. When he himself came forward to marry you what is your problem?….’
‘That fellow seems to be short-tempered. Unmindful of the new place he scolded his sister and asked his mother to keep quiet. I can’t understand what sort of a person he is…..’
‘What’s wrong if he is a bit short-tempered? How can any human being be without moods or fits of anger. Even I am short-tempered…..what happened to you?… Are you not happy….?’
‘Yes yes…..I’m happy…..how happily I put up with your scolding every hour…..how blissful I’m……’
‘Shut up! Be happy I’m not scolding you every minute. In fact you are spoiling her yourself. The boy is a good match. I’m going to settle this alliance.’
It was over. Even that was over. There were no new pages. Everything was like the same old story.
‘What? You want to quit the job! Why? You have so many holidays that you are always at home. It’s a good pay. To teach the alphabet too is difficult for you!’
‘Do you feel tired to do this little work? My mother used to cook food for ten people in just an hour. You find it difficult even to cook for two people….’
‘What is this habit, dear. Even if you are pregnant, if you eat those sour boondas, that too oil stuff, don’t you fall sick? Make vadas. Eat onion vada. Those sour ones are not good for health….’
‘What? Mango jelly? I have not seen such a thing! Anybody would like to eat sweets and fruits. It seems that mango juice is poured on mats and left in the sun to dry. All the flies and dust….. the very thought of it makes me sick in the stomach.’ Vimala opened her eyes and kept looking at the ceiling.
The train kept on rocking.
It was when Yamuna was in her lap, with her fists closed and her tiny legs swaying……..
‘I wonder how you get such ideas! People will laugh at us if we call our children with Bengali names. Instead of naming them coolly after your father or my father…..’
Vimala felt like laughing. She didn’t remember the name that she liked the most at that time. Yamuna was growing up. She suppressed many of her desires, but her daughter shouldn’t be like her. She should have all freedom.
‘My darling, how nice it would be to apply mehandi to the palms, eat food in the moonlight and swing in the garden. When we were kids we….’
‘No…… It’s boring mummy…..mehandi is out of fashion now….. And mummy, what is that practice of eating food early in the morning instead of sleeping peacefully?. It’s nothing but your superstition…… My God! Spinach – the very thought makes me sick…..’
‘Hey Sarat!…. Have you seen this book?….. You really feel as if you are wandering in Gobi deserts. It’s a great novel by Changis Khan… Read and see….’
‘My God! I can’t mummy. I enjoy listening to pop music instead. In an hour’s time there will be a live telecast of a cricket match from Sharjah. I’m very busy.’
Vimala closed her eyes. They were burning.
There were so many voices around her. As if she couldn’t stand them she closed her ears with her palms. Did she ever experience anything that she liked the most in all these years of her life? Her ideas!, her habits!…..among them what is truly her own? Among them what should she give up? Vimala sighed deeply. She closed her eyes trying hard to sleep.
* * * * * *
‘Amma! Please get down here. Water is shallow here….Yes….now…. you take a holy dip in the sacred Ganga….’
Vimala was observing the surroundings. It was so dirty and repulsive….coal, flowers, saliva…..what not…. The entire place presented a terrible sight. What kind of a holy river it is!….. Taking a holy dip there would give you a disease instead of Punyam.
‘Why are you hesitating Vimala…..take a dip…..How can the Ganga which is a panacea for all sins be dirty….?’
Vimala took the first dip. It left her gasping for breath. Her childhood was not hers. She took the second dip. Her youth was not hers. It belonged to her husband… his wishes… his desires…. his ideas ….. that was all. That was what she experienced. She took a third dip. Her mechanical life and domestic chores – cooking, cleaning, serving, looking after the children, helping them with their homework….that was her lot. She had nothing of her own. She didn’t have anything of her own to give up. Among all these people, whose wishes would she leave in the Ganga? She didn’t have the right to do that. She didn’t have anything of her own to give up.
There was a sound of thousands and thousands of voices laughing around her. ‘It is said that one will have no rebirth if one takes a holy dip in the Ganga. Is it true? Let it be….why does she need another birth which will not be hers anyway.’ Vimala was surrounded by the Ganga….the Ganga that took into her countless sins… It was purling.
‘People are polluting me against my wish. See how I have become….. When I look at myself I can’t but pity myself. Perhaps I would never be clean…. I would always be carrying like this dirt and waste material thrown by others….’
Vimala could hear the sigh of the Ganga.
- - - - - - -
“Ammai, why don’t you sleep? How long do you sit like that? What is the use of crying? Lie down and relax a little my dear. I want to come there but the train is moving. I fear I may fall down. Sleep a while Vimala dear.”
Saradamma pleaded.
Vimala who was sitting near the window keeping her head between her knees suddenly lifted her head up. The little coupe was bathed in a dim, blue light. Her mother, father, maternal uncle, brother-in-law and his wife were all sleeping. Saradamma was calling her daughter time and again, pleading with her to sleep.
‘Okay, I’ll sleep’ said Vimala. She stretched her hand and reached for the leather bag that was in a corner. She had a feeling that a new blood was flowing through the fingers that were holding the bag. ‘Is she really grief-stricken as all these people are thinking?’
The rails made a noise as if they were saying ‘I don’t know … I don’t know….’ Vimala turned her head and looked through the glass at the string of lights seen at a distance. Those lights were running so fast that it looked as though they were provoking people to chase them. ‘I wonder what would Yamuna and Sarat be doing at home. Perhaps they are distressed by the death of their father and the misery of their mother…. Perhaps they are watching a cricket match on T.V….’
Vimala felt like laughing. Keeping the bag that was in her hand away on the berth, she lay down and closed her eyes.
The same scene appeared before her eyes, time and again though she doesn’t want it…. The pigeons …. hundreds….. thousands ….. flying freely in the blue sky ….. what a brightness! ……what a freedom!…. the whole world was looking new as if she was looking at it for the first time …..
‘Close those windows ….. what is there to see out over there! …… except the wretched dirt and dust. Go to bed. It’s past ten. What is that oily face? Go and wash it. All that junk food is not good. Eat these fruits. What! You eat them just like that? Don’t you wash them? ….. What? - sitting on the terrace in the moonlight and chatting! It is quite damp…. It’s snowing…. Come inside….Getting drenched in the rain! I hate it …..that slush and water…. Chi…chi….come inside….’
That voice will never command her again. It doesn’t order her saying ‘eat this alone…..drink this alone…..be like this…..’
Vimala opened her eyes with fear. Did she utter anything? Is anyone observing her?
All were sleeping. Vimala sighed. ‘What is this? Why is she thinking like this? The one who passed away is her life partner, Suryam. Her husband….the father of her children. But still she is not heart-broken…. She doesn’t know where all those memories, that haunt her against her wish, are leading her.’
There was a sound of someone moaning softly.
‘Vanaja! See whether the baby is awake?’ – her brother-in-law, Ramakrishna was waking his wife.
‘I’m awake. I got a stiff neck as I had been lying only on one side….’ Vanaja said yawning lazily.
‘When are we going to reach Varanasi?’ she asked him.
‘By tomorrow evening’ he replied.
‘It’s very exasperating. I feel hungry now. I couldn’t eat then. What kind of a food was that? I didn’t like that packed food those insipid curries… By the way, I forgot to ask you….what are you going to give up in Kasi?’
‘Keep your mouth shut and sleep. Foolish questions’ Ramakrishna was irritated.
Vanaja mumbled something.
Vimala felt like laughing.
There was no reason for Ramakrishna to get angry. It was a good question. It is said that after taking a bath in Kasi one should give up something, which he or she likes. What does she like? She doesn’t know. She has no interests of her own any more. The interests of all others have become hers so much so that she does not even know what her own interests are.
Her thoughts were galloping like horses without any reins…..to somewhere and sometime in the past….the incidents that throttled her voice…many….so many.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Probably she was ten years old at that time.
‘Eating rice with mango pickle would be wonderful on a rainy day mother.’
Saradamma was annoyed.
‘Like your face it would be. That chilli does not agree with you at all. You will complain of burning sensation in the stomach. Eat this dal and brinjal curry. It would be delicious if you mix them with Sambar.’
‘Chi… I don’t want that. I’ll eat only mango pickle.’
‘Look at this! What sort of a girl is she? See, how adamant she is. She doesn’t want anything except the pickle. When I made a good curry why do you long for the pickle….eat this…. I say eat this…..’
Then there was no question of watching the rain falling….or eating hot rice with mango pickle….nothing of that sort……. The only thing that she could do was sitting in the closed room with the lights on and eating rice with sambar while putting up with mother’s scoldings…….
Vimala sighed.
I have to go to a botanical tour, father. Everyone has paid up the money. All science students must go. Didn’t brother go last year?…..
‘Perhaps he did. But why do you compare yourself with him. I’ll speak to your Principal. Heavens won’t fall even if you don’t go. Go to our village tomorrow. You can have as many flowers and leaves as you want. Our fields are full of them.’
‘Chi…. I don’t go there. Should I not go to the tour? When everyone is going happily….’
‘Where will you go? Give up your studies. Dirty rascals. Everyone gets smart with me….’
What will happen if the wings of the bird, flying merrily in the sky, are chopped off cruelly?
‘B.Ed. is the best. Teaching is the best profession for women…..’
‘I can’t teach children…. or shall I go for BLIC?
‘Did I not say no?……. Here is the application. How well-mannered and cultured should the daughter of Mr. Yajulu be?…….
‘Yes ….. yes….. daughter of Mr. Yajulu. Great …..chi…..’
Vimala turned to the otherside. A teardrop in her eye shone brightly in the light.
‘He is a government employee. He works in RMS. When he himself came forward to marry you what is your problem?….’
‘That fellow seems to be short-tempered. Unmindful of the new place he scolded his sister and asked his mother to keep quiet. I can’t understand what sort of a person he is…..’
‘What’s wrong if he is a bit short-tempered? How can any human being be without moods or fits of anger. Even I am short-tempered…..what happened to you?… Are you not happy….?’
‘Yes yes…..I’m happy…..how happily I put up with your scolding every hour…..how blissful I’m……’
‘Shut up! Be happy I’m not scolding you every minute. In fact you are spoiling her yourself. The boy is a good match. I’m going to settle this alliance.’
It was over. Even that was over. There were no new pages. Everything was like the same old story.
‘What? You want to quit the job! Why? You have so many holidays that you are always at home. It’s a good pay. To teach the alphabet too is difficult for you!’
‘Do you feel tired to do this little work? My mother used to cook food for ten people in just an hour. You find it difficult even to cook for two people….’
‘What is this habit, dear. Even if you are pregnant, if you eat those sour boondas, that too oil stuff, don’t you fall sick? Make vadas. Eat onion vada. Those sour ones are not good for health….’
‘What? Mango jelly? I have not seen such a thing! Anybody would like to eat sweets and fruits. It seems that mango juice is poured on mats and left in the sun to dry. All the flies and dust….. the very thought of it makes me sick in the stomach.’ Vimala opened her eyes and kept looking at the ceiling.
The train kept on rocking.
It was when Yamuna was in her lap, with her fists closed and her tiny legs swaying……..
‘I wonder how you get such ideas! People will laugh at us if we call our children with Bengali names. Instead of naming them coolly after your father or my father…..’
Vimala felt like laughing. She didn’t remember the name that she liked the most at that time. Yamuna was growing up. She suppressed many of her desires, but her daughter shouldn’t be like her. She should have all freedom.
‘My darling, how nice it would be to apply mehandi to the palms, eat food in the moonlight and swing in the garden. When we were kids we….’
‘No…… It’s boring mummy…..mehandi is out of fashion now….. And mummy, what is that practice of eating food early in the morning instead of sleeping peacefully?. It’s nothing but your superstition…… My God! Spinach – the very thought makes me sick…..’
‘Hey Sarat!…. Have you seen this book?….. You really feel as if you are wandering in Gobi deserts. It’s a great novel by Changis Khan… Read and see….’
‘My God! I can’t mummy. I enjoy listening to pop music instead. In an hour’s time there will be a live telecast of a cricket match from Sharjah. I’m very busy.’
Vimala closed her eyes. They were burning.
There were so many voices around her. As if she couldn’t stand them she closed her ears with her palms. Did she ever experience anything that she liked the most in all these years of her life? Her ideas!, her habits!…..among them what is truly her own? Among them what should she give up? Vimala sighed deeply. She closed her eyes trying hard to sleep.
* * * * * *
‘Amma! Please get down here. Water is shallow here….Yes….now…. you take a holy dip in the sacred Ganga….’
Vimala was observing the surroundings. It was so dirty and repulsive….coal, flowers, saliva…..what not…. The entire place presented a terrible sight. What kind of a holy river it is!….. Taking a holy dip there would give you a disease instead of Punyam.
‘Why are you hesitating Vimala…..take a dip…..How can the Ganga which is a panacea for all sins be dirty….?’
Vimala took the first dip. It left her gasping for breath. Her childhood was not hers. She took the second dip. Her youth was not hers. It belonged to her husband… his wishes… his desires…. his ideas ….. that was all. That was what she experienced. She took a third dip. Her mechanical life and domestic chores – cooking, cleaning, serving, looking after the children, helping them with their homework….that was her lot. She had nothing of her own. She didn’t have anything of her own to give up. Among all these people, whose wishes would she leave in the Ganga? She didn’t have the right to do that. She didn’t have anything of her own to give up.
There was a sound of thousands and thousands of voices laughing around her. ‘It is said that one will have no rebirth if one takes a holy dip in the Ganga. Is it true? Let it be….why does she need another birth which will not be hers anyway.’ Vimala was surrounded by the Ganga….the Ganga that took into her countless sins… It was purling.
‘People are polluting me against my wish. See how I have become….. When I look at myself I can’t but pity myself. Perhaps I would never be clean…. I would always be carrying like this dirt and waste material thrown by others….’
Vimala could hear the sigh of the Ganga.
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