Showing posts with label కథలు. Show all posts
Showing posts with label కథలు. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Translated from Telugu by Dr. Haribandi Lakshmi, EFL University
Perhaps that was the first time I realised that I had many masks. I was not aware of the masks I had with me neither on the day I attained puberty while running about in the playground nor on the day I went to the class feeling great, wearing a new half-saree with stars twinkling in my eyes. I was not aware of them when a boy of my class feeling shy flattered me by saying ‘jaya, your beauty…’. I was not aware of it even later when I went through different phases of life –studies, marriage, first night, children, family – That particular day, at the time of twilight, for the first time, in the jungle of people, amidst many of my acquaintances, I picked up a mask that had been with me without my knowledge and wore it. It was a time when I went pale with shock and was ready to shed tears. But you do not believe me, how quickly I regained my composure, within a second I smiled. That means I hid myself. I was conscious of the animal that was standing in front of me and staring at me. Without batting an eyelid he was looking at the glow in my eyes, the smile on my lips and the way I shook my head making the hair fall in curls on my face.
“Why not ….. I can arrange it as early as possible”, he said instantly.
“Thank you Sir! …. We will meet again….” I bid him goodbye with my eyes themselves. I did not forget even a single thing – to walk more gracefully on noticing that he was staring at me, to pull the upper end of my saree which was almost touching the ground around my back, looking back at him while getting into the auto. I got used to all these things. Once the auto came out of the gate on to the main road my mask slipped into a safer place. The tears welling in my eyes were ready to burst out, but there was no time for that. The regional office was just two streets away. He picked up the phone in my presence itself and said, “Mrs. Jaya will be coming to you. You settle Mr. Shankar’s matter”.
Shankar was waiting for me over there. The goods were not delivered for two months to his shop in One Town. If the situation were to continue he would have no option but to flee the place. Jaya should help him in everything in starting the business and in its promotion too. Her status as an officer, her shrewdness, her glamour …… everything becomes his business capital.
“Jaya, if you impress the regional manager, our stock will get promoted. He is a good connoisseur of literature. You present your latest book to him and broach the subject”.
In the last ten day there was not a single moment when Shankar did not irritate me. Shankar planned everything meticulously – inviting him to dinner, discussion on literature and what not. Gracefully and charmingly I hid myself with the mask of a great actor.
“Mrs. Jaya! You seem to be very active. Your new collection of poetry is simply marvelous. You have expressed your life’s ambition in a very elegant manner. Your translation into words of things like a morning, a memorable experience and an anguished heart is superb. Next month I am going to Bangalore on some official business. Why do not you go with me? You can have a change from the routine. I love to talk to you and listen to your new poems”.
That beast’s voice was resonating in my mind as in a stereo. It was important to get the loan sanctioned. Being a mother of two children I am the one who slogs at home till the last minute and resorts to many circus feats to be there in the office by ten O’ clock in the morning. Should I accompany you on your pleasure trip? Is this the respect you give to others?” Did I question him so? No, never ….. not even mildly. Instead I smiled. I exhibited my narrow waistline and tiny tommy beautifully.
“Do not frown!” Shankar warned me well in advance.
As soon as the auto came to a halt Shankar came running to me. Rummaging the bag for change, without even looking at him I told him, “he asked us to clear the amount in two months.”
Shankar’s face lighted up. He said, “Oh, what a relief! Thank you Jaya!”. It was sheer ignorance not even to realise that life is lost somewhere amidst the accounts, calculations and budgets….. Anyway, what would be talk about? At the most he would say ‘Jaya, pass the chits as soon as you receive your salary tomorrow’ or ‘have you seen the payment card from LIC?’ or ‘has the matter finalised regarding the housing loan?’…. This was the sort of talk we would have.
At the end of the day after all the work was done and the children went to bed, I would change into a night gown, comb my hair and do a bit of make up and enter the bed room only to find Shankar on phone or in front of the computer checking the accounts or in sound sleep, snoring with his mouth wide open …… In case he was not yet tired, he would call ‘Jaya come here once….. and satisfy himself in five minutes’. It was then that I would be available to myself. I never really worried about those moments that I could not stand myself. At once a beautiful mask would readily come into my hands. Then a kind of excitement would overwhelm my entire body slowly and gradually, beginning with the face and the hands. Along with it a new world of mine which I created myself would quickly encompass me as in a film setting.
The children of Somalia who were famished and reduced to skeletons, an old woman deserted by her family, a poor victim of a gang rape – These are the people that surround me. I feel too excited to breathe. Then the words would start their gimmick and with well-measured words I would make it rain with tears. I would depict a wounded soul or a dying sun on a paper canvas. The laments of the grief-stricken earthquake victims whom I have never seen with my eyes become the theme of my poem. Around midnight I shed that thin mask and with my own real face, which I hate to see myself, I slip into bed, tired and letting neither an opportunity to think of my desires, miseries and indignities nor any room for shedding even a single drop of tear. I forget myself…. so much so that I don’t even understand whether the days were rolling by or running fast …. Later on, no matter whether I am talking to someone or walking or working in the office, it is a new experience…… I am empty and shallow or to be more precise, I am like an empty corked bottle…. yes exactly like that ….. I am nowhere inside it. The body, the blood, the limbs that work, and the saree that I wear all are mine. But I am not there anywhere. I look for an assurance that might peep in from some corner of life, which can make me feel that everything is mine totally. The garden that I see every morning on getting up is planned and planted by me. My plan was to have the flowers swinging with their long stalks in close proximity. The house is cozy with everything arranged neatly. Everything is acquired with my own earnings. The time that remains after the office work and a sleep is spent on planning different things…. saving money, calculating the debits and credits …… At last even in giving birth to children, applying leave to office, appointing mother or mother-in-law to look after the kids, there involved a perfect planning.
This life is a balance sheet of credits and debits. Shankar has a clear understanding of this matter. He would manage the household affairs just as he does his project or clears the accounts. Our life seems to be alright as far as having a structure with a strong foundation and a beautiful arrangement of the bricks is concerned….. But the essence of life is along the path lost somewhere. How, where and when we have lost it I do not know, but Shankar and I became strangers now. All the routine things go on as usual. There is a soft noise of a sudden snapping of a relationship as delicate as a silver thread between two of us. But this noise goes on sounding like a loud explosion in my innerself. We two live in that house like prisoners in a jail. The words like love and friendship have staged a walk out from our lives long ago. We remained human beings only by virtue of our bodies that walk and breathe. On one night when we were not in a position to stand each others existence and were left with nothing to talk about and were burdened with the weight of our own thoughts, there was a call from hundreds of miles away from a former colleague of mine. He and I worked together as probationary officers. It was after a long time since he left the place looking for another job. Words were flowing like a current. I was trying to tell him everything that had happened since then as if it were only a few minutes. Suddenly he asked me, “why are you so disspirited Jaya? Any problem?” I was taken aback for a second. I wanted to tell him in a jiffy that I was not at all fine and infact I remained not as my usual self but as somebody else. But is it possible to tell such naked truths? Surprisingly a mask that hides me comes out without my asking for it. “When I was woken up with a startle in the middle of the night by your phone and started answering your questions of Yaksha as promptly as in an A.P.P.S.C. examination, what is your conjecture?” I could question him so. What a hypocrisy! Human beings alone have such a skill.
“Look, I am a happy-go-lucky-type. I do not want any responsibilities in my life. I cannot face any hardship or tension. Life has to be like a flower boat sailing on water”. I went on laughing. I went on narrating the memories of the past….. my job, my creative writing….
When I was hanging up Shankar said, “It seems he does not have manners. He calls up at midnight or an unearthly hour. Doesn’t he know that he should not disturb you at this hour. In fact you are to be blamed for it. Where is the need to laugh so much? When you are encouraging him a lot, is he a rushyasrunga not to respond? I do not like all this over action”. I took a minute to think. That little time was enough. There slipped a mask of a slave. After a very long time I stood straight. In an uncontrollable fit of temper and fury all my masks that number a few thousands were swept somewhere, I did not know where. That night I spoke to Shankar for a long time. I explained it to him why I became what I was. I explained to him how I changed myself for the sake of the four walls of the house, for the circle I built around myself and for my weakness to be praised by the society. I gave every other pleasure to many gentlemen except sleeping with them. I told him that I understood very well the fact that he did not have any objection as long as my every smile fetched him money. I talked about how he tortured me until I descended all those steps after a series of events - the nights that we fought fierce battles with each other in the presence of the children, the occasions when I became a sea and went without food and sleep, the moments my job and influence slowly crept into Shankar’s business deals – Shankar told me decisively that I should take care of my character. He told me to put an end to all the unnecessary smiles, friend and phone calls. He also gave me a concession that I could work if I wanted, otherwise I could sit at home and take care of the children. His business, which was established with all my money including that of P.F. and with the capital of my smiles, had picked up now. It is time that I should look for another mask. I have to see if I can find somewhere my ‘pativrata’ mask which was swept away by my emotional outburst last night. Where can I look for it?….. There were thousand of masks….. masks of several different colours. It would be a problem if I do not get it by tomorrow morning. That mask is necessary for the last role I am going to enact. I do not know where I lost my pativrata mask!…..
- - - - - - - -
Perhaps that was the first time I realised that I had many masks. I was not aware of the masks I had with me neither on the day I attained puberty while running about in the playground nor on the day I went to the class feeling great, wearing a new half-saree with stars twinkling in my eyes. I was not aware of them when a boy of my class feeling shy flattered me by saying ‘jaya, your beauty…’. I was not aware of it even later when I went through different phases of life –studies, marriage, first night, children, family – That particular day, at the time of twilight, for the first time, in the jungle of people, amidst many of my acquaintances, I picked up a mask that had been with me without my knowledge and wore it. It was a time when I went pale with shock and was ready to shed tears. But you do not believe me, how quickly I regained my composure, within a second I smiled. That means I hid myself. I was conscious of the animal that was standing in front of me and staring at me. Without batting an eyelid he was looking at the glow in my eyes, the smile on my lips and the way I shook my head making the hair fall in curls on my face.
“Why not ….. I can arrange it as early as possible”, he said instantly.
“Thank you Sir! …. We will meet again….” I bid him goodbye with my eyes themselves. I did not forget even a single thing – to walk more gracefully on noticing that he was staring at me, to pull the upper end of my saree which was almost touching the ground around my back, looking back at him while getting into the auto. I got used to all these things. Once the auto came out of the gate on to the main road my mask slipped into a safer place. The tears welling in my eyes were ready to burst out, but there was no time for that. The regional office was just two streets away. He picked up the phone in my presence itself and said, “Mrs. Jaya will be coming to you. You settle Mr. Shankar’s matter”.
Shankar was waiting for me over there. The goods were not delivered for two months to his shop in One Town. If the situation were to continue he would have no option but to flee the place. Jaya should help him in everything in starting the business and in its promotion too. Her status as an officer, her shrewdness, her glamour …… everything becomes his business capital.
“Jaya, if you impress the regional manager, our stock will get promoted. He is a good connoisseur of literature. You present your latest book to him and broach the subject”.
In the last ten day there was not a single moment when Shankar did not irritate me. Shankar planned everything meticulously – inviting him to dinner, discussion on literature and what not. Gracefully and charmingly I hid myself with the mask of a great actor.
“Mrs. Jaya! You seem to be very active. Your new collection of poetry is simply marvelous. You have expressed your life’s ambition in a very elegant manner. Your translation into words of things like a morning, a memorable experience and an anguished heart is superb. Next month I am going to Bangalore on some official business. Why do not you go with me? You can have a change from the routine. I love to talk to you and listen to your new poems”.
That beast’s voice was resonating in my mind as in a stereo. It was important to get the loan sanctioned. Being a mother of two children I am the one who slogs at home till the last minute and resorts to many circus feats to be there in the office by ten O’ clock in the morning. Should I accompany you on your pleasure trip? Is this the respect you give to others?” Did I question him so? No, never ….. not even mildly. Instead I smiled. I exhibited my narrow waistline and tiny tommy beautifully.
“Do not frown!” Shankar warned me well in advance.
As soon as the auto came to a halt Shankar came running to me. Rummaging the bag for change, without even looking at him I told him, “he asked us to clear the amount in two months.”
Shankar’s face lighted up. He said, “Oh, what a relief! Thank you Jaya!”. It was sheer ignorance not even to realise that life is lost somewhere amidst the accounts, calculations and budgets….. Anyway, what would be talk about? At the most he would say ‘Jaya, pass the chits as soon as you receive your salary tomorrow’ or ‘have you seen the payment card from LIC?’ or ‘has the matter finalised regarding the housing loan?’…. This was the sort of talk we would have.
At the end of the day after all the work was done and the children went to bed, I would change into a night gown, comb my hair and do a bit of make up and enter the bed room only to find Shankar on phone or in front of the computer checking the accounts or in sound sleep, snoring with his mouth wide open …… In case he was not yet tired, he would call ‘Jaya come here once….. and satisfy himself in five minutes’. It was then that I would be available to myself. I never really worried about those moments that I could not stand myself. At once a beautiful mask would readily come into my hands. Then a kind of excitement would overwhelm my entire body slowly and gradually, beginning with the face and the hands. Along with it a new world of mine which I created myself would quickly encompass me as in a film setting.
The children of Somalia who were famished and reduced to skeletons, an old woman deserted by her family, a poor victim of a gang rape – These are the people that surround me. I feel too excited to breathe. Then the words would start their gimmick and with well-measured words I would make it rain with tears. I would depict a wounded soul or a dying sun on a paper canvas. The laments of the grief-stricken earthquake victims whom I have never seen with my eyes become the theme of my poem. Around midnight I shed that thin mask and with my own real face, which I hate to see myself, I slip into bed, tired and letting neither an opportunity to think of my desires, miseries and indignities nor any room for shedding even a single drop of tear. I forget myself…. so much so that I don’t even understand whether the days were rolling by or running fast …. Later on, no matter whether I am talking to someone or walking or working in the office, it is a new experience…… I am empty and shallow or to be more precise, I am like an empty corked bottle…. yes exactly like that ….. I am nowhere inside it. The body, the blood, the limbs that work, and the saree that I wear all are mine. But I am not there anywhere. I look for an assurance that might peep in from some corner of life, which can make me feel that everything is mine totally. The garden that I see every morning on getting up is planned and planted by me. My plan was to have the flowers swinging with their long stalks in close proximity. The house is cozy with everything arranged neatly. Everything is acquired with my own earnings. The time that remains after the office work and a sleep is spent on planning different things…. saving money, calculating the debits and credits …… At last even in giving birth to children, applying leave to office, appointing mother or mother-in-law to look after the kids, there involved a perfect planning.
This life is a balance sheet of credits and debits. Shankar has a clear understanding of this matter. He would manage the household affairs just as he does his project or clears the accounts. Our life seems to be alright as far as having a structure with a strong foundation and a beautiful arrangement of the bricks is concerned….. But the essence of life is along the path lost somewhere. How, where and when we have lost it I do not know, but Shankar and I became strangers now. All the routine things go on as usual. There is a soft noise of a sudden snapping of a relationship as delicate as a silver thread between two of us. But this noise goes on sounding like a loud explosion in my innerself. We two live in that house like prisoners in a jail. The words like love and friendship have staged a walk out from our lives long ago. We remained human beings only by virtue of our bodies that walk and breathe. On one night when we were not in a position to stand each others existence and were left with nothing to talk about and were burdened with the weight of our own thoughts, there was a call from hundreds of miles away from a former colleague of mine. He and I worked together as probationary officers. It was after a long time since he left the place looking for another job. Words were flowing like a current. I was trying to tell him everything that had happened since then as if it were only a few minutes. Suddenly he asked me, “why are you so disspirited Jaya? Any problem?” I was taken aback for a second. I wanted to tell him in a jiffy that I was not at all fine and infact I remained not as my usual self but as somebody else. But is it possible to tell such naked truths? Surprisingly a mask that hides me comes out without my asking for it. “When I was woken up with a startle in the middle of the night by your phone and started answering your questions of Yaksha as promptly as in an A.P.P.S.C. examination, what is your conjecture?” I could question him so. What a hypocrisy! Human beings alone have such a skill.
“Look, I am a happy-go-lucky-type. I do not want any responsibilities in my life. I cannot face any hardship or tension. Life has to be like a flower boat sailing on water”. I went on laughing. I went on narrating the memories of the past….. my job, my creative writing….
When I was hanging up Shankar said, “It seems he does not have manners. He calls up at midnight or an unearthly hour. Doesn’t he know that he should not disturb you at this hour. In fact you are to be blamed for it. Where is the need to laugh so much? When you are encouraging him a lot, is he a rushyasrunga not to respond? I do not like all this over action”. I took a minute to think. That little time was enough. There slipped a mask of a slave. After a very long time I stood straight. In an uncontrollable fit of temper and fury all my masks that number a few thousands were swept somewhere, I did not know where. That night I spoke to Shankar for a long time. I explained it to him why I became what I was. I explained to him how I changed myself for the sake of the four walls of the house, for the circle I built around myself and for my weakness to be praised by the society. I gave every other pleasure to many gentlemen except sleeping with them. I told him that I understood very well the fact that he did not have any objection as long as my every smile fetched him money. I talked about how he tortured me until I descended all those steps after a series of events - the nights that we fought fierce battles with each other in the presence of the children, the occasions when I became a sea and went without food and sleep, the moments my job and influence slowly crept into Shankar’s business deals – Shankar told me decisively that I should take care of my character. He told me to put an end to all the unnecessary smiles, friend and phone calls. He also gave me a concession that I could work if I wanted, otherwise I could sit at home and take care of the children. His business, which was established with all my money including that of P.F. and with the capital of my smiles, had picked up now. It is time that I should look for another mask. I have to see if I can find somewhere my ‘pativrata’ mask which was swept away by my emotional outburst last night. Where can I look for it?….. There were thousand of masks….. masks of several different colours. It would be a problem if I do not get it by tomorrow morning. That mask is necessary for the last role I am going to enact. I do not know where I lost my pativrata mask!…..
- - - - - - - -
Translated from Telugu by Dr. Haribandi Lakshmi, EFL University
“Who was the one who spoke to Aruna on that day?”
ha
Seeing the box item on the first page Aruna got startlerd and sat straight. That day, after so many days, she was not feeling weak. She had the habit of reading the newspaper in the morning while sipping a cup of coffee. For the past twenty days she had been lying in the bed in a pitiable state without knowing what had been happening in the world. Her eyes began to run along with the letters.
“The story of Aruna who was stabbed and admitted to a hospital is known to the readers. It is learnt that Miss. Aruna, who stays in the working women’s hostel, ‘Mahila Prabanjanam’, on Thursday before going to school made two calls from the adjacent medical shop! The shopkeeper has given us interesting details. He informed us that he remembered every single word uttered by her on phone. According to him, Aruna seems to have called up a person by name ‘Chandra’ and she was said to be angry with him for not coming to see her. She seems to have invited him to come and meet her on Friday evening. The shopkeeper further added that at that time she was wearing a blue dress and looked all dressed up. She is said to be regularly calling up different people from his shop. It is suspected that Miss. Aruna must be having close contacts with the culprit.”
(Interview with Aruna’s colleagues in the next issue…)
On reading this news Aruna suffered from breathlessness…… She hurriedly looked for the next issue. On the first page itself her photo appeared. They must have selected the best one from the album.
“Did Aruna has any connections with different unions?”
Many interesting things have come to light today when our reporter interviewed the school teachrs. Miss. Aruna has a reputation as a good teacher in the school. The students admire her a great deal. But the teachers expressed different views. They said Aruna was a very reserved person. She always goes on attending meetings and conferences without wasting a single minute. She has close connections with a number of voluntary organisations and unions. She spoke at the meeting of the Mahila Mandali held on 6th April. (We will bring you a detailed report tomorrow about the unions that are said to have connections with Aruna).
Aruna started sweating profusely even in that cold weather. She got a feeling that her hands were shivering. She controlled herself and looked around – the hospital familiar to her, the climber, Malathi Lata, peeping through the window, sisters and ward boys going in and out of the next ward – Everything is quite normal. She turned another page with the trembling hands.
‘Did Aruna has any connection with the Radicals?’
She turned another page indifferently, ‘who was the person who had dinner with Aruna that night?’
Another page and another page – Aruna was turning the pages as though her mind went blank.
‘Along with Aruna were there only two people in the room?’
‘In Aruna’s room, besides a cupboard with things arranged neatly and a couple of book shelves a photoframe was seen on the table where beside Aruna’s photograph there was a photograph of a handsome gentleman were seen. It is said that she used to go out with that gentleman quite frequently. It is also learnt that in her room there were some half-finished sweet and snacks kept neatly in small containers. The police are seriously trying to get the information regarding the person who shared with her the food brought from the restaurant adjacent to the guest house.’
Aruna’s head started reeling. Her body, which had not been fully recovered from an operation that she underwent a few days ago, could not bear the shock.
Who was the person who spoke to her on that day? Who was the person who had dinner with her on that day.
Is Aruna a radical?
Innumerable questions kept suffocating Aruna.
‘Oh, God! Why did you get up from your bed Aruna?
‘Oh! You have already started reading all that trash!’ Chandra came running and she took away all those papers. Sitting back Aruna kept on staring at Chandra. ‘Chandra’ was a man! What a terrible description!
‘Aunty, you know what happened! A little while ago your friends came to see you. I did not want to disturb you. So I did not wake you up. Aunty …. you know ….’ When that fourteen years old girl was trying to make her forget about the newspapers, Aruna couldn’t but laugh. Aruna was staring at the round face of the girl and the way she was moving her hands while talking. She could only see her pink lips moving but she couldn’t hear anything. In the meanwhile Bhaskar entered the room carrying bread and fruits.
‘Did I not tell you not to disturb her. She gets tired. Have you already started chatting with her? Your mother is coming behind. Go and see. Let her come as early as possible. Granny is not able to walk. Go and see.”
Bhaskar was keeping the fruits on the shelf.
‘Handsome young man’ ….. Those words were seen running in front of Aruna’s eyes. It is with this handsome youngman she went shopping several times.
‘Aruna dear! How are you feeling today? Are you feeling weak?’ Boundless affection could be felt in that voice. It was his affection for his sister ‘…. Oh God! … How cruel!….’ Without knowing the facts how can they imagine something and publish it just to boost the circulation of their paper? If only they were a little humane ….. If only they tried to know what had really happened… What happened that day?….
* * * * *
It was only that morning she went to music college. She was to give the programme four days later. She must practice it. She closed her eyes and was thinking of the items she would be performing. There was a faint sound. Noises were always heard from the kitchen downstairs. It was a hostel where about five hundred inmates are there. People would always go on doing some work or other. A little latter, when she heard some footsteps she opened her eyes to see who it was. There were two men looking like giants. While one was holding the torch, the other was picking up things. He put in his bag a tape recorder and an alarm time-piece that were on the table. While picking up her hand bag one of them turned back. When he noticed Aruna looking at them he jumped at her at once. She tried to scream for help. That was all. She was stabbed in the hand, in the stomach and around her waist. She could not even moan as they closed her mouth tight. After that attack she opened her eyes only in the hospital. The hostel was poorly maintained. There was no security to the inmates. Even the building was not good this would be the result if they collect hundreds of rupees from the inmates but do not maintain it properly. But how all this was coloured! How can she keep her head high tomorrow? First of all she should know what her family members are thinking about it. Tomorrow, in the school, what explanation would she give!
‘Aruna! Aruna!’
‘What happened to you dear!’
‘Aruna!’
‘Aunty!’
Aruna had already reached the far of lands where those calls and cries could not be reached. It remained a puzzle to them why her blood pressure suddenly shot up so much when she had actually recovered and was gaining normalcy and why her meek heart had suddenly stopped functioning.
“Who was the one who spoke to Aruna on that day?”
ha
Seeing the box item on the first page Aruna got startlerd and sat straight. That day, after so many days, she was not feeling weak. She had the habit of reading the newspaper in the morning while sipping a cup of coffee. For the past twenty days she had been lying in the bed in a pitiable state without knowing what had been happening in the world. Her eyes began to run along with the letters.
“The story of Aruna who was stabbed and admitted to a hospital is known to the readers. It is learnt that Miss. Aruna, who stays in the working women’s hostel, ‘Mahila Prabanjanam’, on Thursday before going to school made two calls from the adjacent medical shop! The shopkeeper has given us interesting details. He informed us that he remembered every single word uttered by her on phone. According to him, Aruna seems to have called up a person by name ‘Chandra’ and she was said to be angry with him for not coming to see her. She seems to have invited him to come and meet her on Friday evening. The shopkeeper further added that at that time she was wearing a blue dress and looked all dressed up. She is said to be regularly calling up different people from his shop. It is suspected that Miss. Aruna must be having close contacts with the culprit.”
(Interview with Aruna’s colleagues in the next issue…)
On reading this news Aruna suffered from breathlessness…… She hurriedly looked for the next issue. On the first page itself her photo appeared. They must have selected the best one from the album.
“Did Aruna has any connections with different unions?”
Many interesting things have come to light today when our reporter interviewed the school teachrs. Miss. Aruna has a reputation as a good teacher in the school. The students admire her a great deal. But the teachers expressed different views. They said Aruna was a very reserved person. She always goes on attending meetings and conferences without wasting a single minute. She has close connections with a number of voluntary organisations and unions. She spoke at the meeting of the Mahila Mandali held on 6th April. (We will bring you a detailed report tomorrow about the unions that are said to have connections with Aruna).
Aruna started sweating profusely even in that cold weather. She got a feeling that her hands were shivering. She controlled herself and looked around – the hospital familiar to her, the climber, Malathi Lata, peeping through the window, sisters and ward boys going in and out of the next ward – Everything is quite normal. She turned another page with the trembling hands.
‘Did Aruna has any connection with the Radicals?’
She turned another page indifferently, ‘who was the person who had dinner with Aruna that night?’
Another page and another page – Aruna was turning the pages as though her mind went blank.
‘Along with Aruna were there only two people in the room?’
‘In Aruna’s room, besides a cupboard with things arranged neatly and a couple of book shelves a photoframe was seen on the table where beside Aruna’s photograph there was a photograph of a handsome gentleman were seen. It is said that she used to go out with that gentleman quite frequently. It is also learnt that in her room there were some half-finished sweet and snacks kept neatly in small containers. The police are seriously trying to get the information regarding the person who shared with her the food brought from the restaurant adjacent to the guest house.’
Aruna’s head started reeling. Her body, which had not been fully recovered from an operation that she underwent a few days ago, could not bear the shock.
Who was the person who spoke to her on that day? Who was the person who had dinner with her on that day.
Is Aruna a radical?
Innumerable questions kept suffocating Aruna.
‘Oh, God! Why did you get up from your bed Aruna?
‘Oh! You have already started reading all that trash!’ Chandra came running and she took away all those papers. Sitting back Aruna kept on staring at Chandra. ‘Chandra’ was a man! What a terrible description!
‘Aunty, you know what happened! A little while ago your friends came to see you. I did not want to disturb you. So I did not wake you up. Aunty …. you know ….’ When that fourteen years old girl was trying to make her forget about the newspapers, Aruna couldn’t but laugh. Aruna was staring at the round face of the girl and the way she was moving her hands while talking. She could only see her pink lips moving but she couldn’t hear anything. In the meanwhile Bhaskar entered the room carrying bread and fruits.
‘Did I not tell you not to disturb her. She gets tired. Have you already started chatting with her? Your mother is coming behind. Go and see. Let her come as early as possible. Granny is not able to walk. Go and see.”
Bhaskar was keeping the fruits on the shelf.
‘Handsome young man’ ….. Those words were seen running in front of Aruna’s eyes. It is with this handsome youngman she went shopping several times.
‘Aruna dear! How are you feeling today? Are you feeling weak?’ Boundless affection could be felt in that voice. It was his affection for his sister ‘…. Oh God! … How cruel!….’ Without knowing the facts how can they imagine something and publish it just to boost the circulation of their paper? If only they were a little humane ….. If only they tried to know what had really happened… What happened that day?….
* * * * *
It was only that morning she went to music college. She was to give the programme four days later. She must practice it. She closed her eyes and was thinking of the items she would be performing. There was a faint sound. Noises were always heard from the kitchen downstairs. It was a hostel where about five hundred inmates are there. People would always go on doing some work or other. A little latter, when she heard some footsteps she opened her eyes to see who it was. There were two men looking like giants. While one was holding the torch, the other was picking up things. He put in his bag a tape recorder and an alarm time-piece that were on the table. While picking up her hand bag one of them turned back. When he noticed Aruna looking at them he jumped at her at once. She tried to scream for help. That was all. She was stabbed in the hand, in the stomach and around her waist. She could not even moan as they closed her mouth tight. After that attack she opened her eyes only in the hospital. The hostel was poorly maintained. There was no security to the inmates. Even the building was not good this would be the result if they collect hundreds of rupees from the inmates but do not maintain it properly. But how all this was coloured! How can she keep her head high tomorrow? First of all she should know what her family members are thinking about it. Tomorrow, in the school, what explanation would she give!
‘Aruna! Aruna!’
‘What happened to you dear!’
‘Aruna!’
‘Aunty!’
Aruna had already reached the far of lands where those calls and cries could not be reached. It remained a puzzle to them why her blood pressure suddenly shot up so much when she had actually recovered and was gaining normalcy and why her meek heart had suddenly stopped functioning.
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.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
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.
- - - - - - -
Translated from Telugu by Dr. Haribandi Lakshmi, EFL University
‘Don’t give it another thought madam! It’s indeed a good decision.’
Revathi smiled.
‘Thank you Anand. I too think so. I’ll have to face many personal problems with the transfer now. Moreover, the present offer doesn’t seem to be the one to be ignored. Since it deals only with sales, if marketing is done carefully, that would be enough…’
‘That’s what I’ve been telling you madam. It’s a good company. The returns will be very encouraging.’
Revathi nodded her head in agreement.
Anand rose to his feet.
‘Anyway, all the best madam! I’ll be meeting you again only next week. This week I’m going on a tour. I just can’t imagine the office without you. But you’ll have a bright future there.’ Saying so Anand took leave of her.
The paper weight that was spun by Revathi was spinning around on the table. The telex machine was a making a noise. The room had been familiar to her for eight years. It was a spacious, cool and cozy room, very convenient to work. She wouldn’t be sitting there alone writing the bills anymore. In a much bigger corporate office the whole administration would be under her control. Revathi’s lips spread with a smile. She stretched herself. Through the glass partition the packing division on the other side could be seen. Near a table in one corner Mrs. Rattamma, an elderly lady, was cutting the pad at a great speed. How quick her hands work! How agile the hands of a woman could be!
‘Yes! It’s a challenge to me!
Just as you acquire new blood and improve health when you donate blood, you improve your horizon as you interact with new people. It would be a real change.
Revathi pulled out the drawer, picked up her purse and locked it pushing it back. Leaving the keys on the table she came out. It was very pleasant outside. It looked as though it was going to rain. Revathi was highly excited.
The agony she had suffered for the past four days simply vanished. Now she needn’t go to another town taking the baby with her. Chandram, the baby and she could remain together. The cool breeze brushing her cheeks appeared to her as if it was sharing her happiness.
Her new job ……… with plenty of scope for quick promotions …… a good salary and a beautiful house…….
* * * * * *
‘Oh Lord! You didn’t tell this to everyone, did you?!
Revathi frowned.
‘Won’t they know if I don’t go to office tomorrow? Don’t I go there to resign?’
‘That’s what I say! Don’t entertain any such foolish ideas! Go to your office tomorrow as usual. Don’t think of anything else.’
‘May I ask you, why?’
‘Don’t ask me any further questions. You want to quit a good job and …….’
‘Good for whom? Do you think it’s a good thing for me to go to another town and live there all alone?’
Chandram’s face reddened with raze. He flung away the paper he held in his hand ……
‘I can’t answer you. You do whatever you like.’
‘Oh God! I don’t know what makes you so furious! If I decline the transfer, then I’ll have to forego my increment and remain in that cabin forever. This new job is also good, isn’t it?’
‘Stop it …… Do you think it is a good job? Instead of sitting in your room comfortably and doing your work without anybody’s interference, do you wish to rule the world? Will the heavens fall if you don’t get the increments and promotions?’
‘Did you not go on strike last year when your increment was stopped?’
‘That is different…. this is different……. We get satisfaction in this job. You needn’t step out of your office. You can lead a respectable life.’
‘Leading a respectable life to you means not having to interact with men. Am I right? There will not be any danger to my chastity, right?’
Chandram looked at Revathi with all hatredness…..
‘It seems that you have a desire to work with men! It’s a shame!’
The enraged Chandram rose to his feet hastily, put on his shirt and walked out slamming the door behind him. Revathi felt as if that bang hit her right on the heart. The noise startled the baby who was fast asleep in her cot and she let out a frightened cry. Revathi put her to sleep again. The child was eight months old. The fair and healthy baby, who had always resembled Chandram, for the first time appeared to Revathi as just a beautiful baby with no features of Chandram. ‘Everything depends on our own imagination.’
The baby was again fast asleep. Revathi using her feet slowly and gradually brought the rocking cradle to a halt so that the baby was not disturbed. Did she know how to do these things earlier? After the baby was born, as it grew it also learnt to recognise the touch of its mother and the careful nursing done by her. That made Revathi understand day by day what makes the baby happy and comfortable. That was not the only thing. There were so many other things that she had learnt. She transformed herself into a young lady under the supervision of her mother and grandmother. She stopped jumping and running. In their opinion Revathi was a well-behaved and dignified girl who climbed all the steps of college and university and made her parents proud by winning many medals.
She was the one who allowed Chandram to tie the marital knot by bowing her head and holding on to his little finger she entered the in-laws’ place. Since then, she had been living there without causing any problem to anybody. She learnt all these things from experience. She gained all this experience by following the divine principle, ‘Don’t hurt others’. But all the while she never felt hurt herself. On the contrary, she felt happy for making everyone else happy. She bowed down humbly to all those forces that controlled her without her knowledge.
She always sought comfort from the thought that she was a free bird and a working woman who had her own individuality. This was the inner faith that made her withstand everything. But when the reigns of this freedom started pulling her hard, she realised who really controlled her life, both her private as well as public life. The clock struck twelve. Mechanically Revathi’s legs led her towards the kitchen. The baby would be waking up. It was time to feed her. Her hands started working mechanically. In a bowl she mixed a little dal, rice and chopped carrots, potatoes and tomatoes and put the bowl in the pressure cooker. Taking out the coffee-filter she put some coffee powder into it and poured boiled water in it. The fine tuned ears of Revathi could sense the drip-drop of the coffee into the empty lower compartment. How nice it would be to have a cup of coffee now! The mind put forward the suggestion. Revathi at once kept the milk, sugar and the cup ready. Filter…. the life that is filtered for her …..the life that is made ready after it is boiled and cooled……someone is giving her a pure life, packed without any side effects and making sure that she does not go astray. Has she desired all this? Revathi shook her head twice.
No, she never wished for anything. In fact she never thought of anything. She was just living like that. Within the boundaries laid by someone she was very cautiously living. She was living the life that was designed by someone else. In this life there was no role of her nor could she take pride in it. Revathi did not feel like having filter-coffee. She smiled to herself while placing the lid on the milk pot….. ‘How mechanical life is! It is just like a programme that is fed into the computer without a single mistake. It is an accurate statistical report.’
She heard somebody calling from the window. She came to the drawing room. It was Vasu. All of them stopped knocking at the door and ringing the bell so as not to wake the baby from her sleep. The baby did not yet come under anybody’s control.
As she opened the door she asked him ‘How is she?’
Vasu flung his briefcase into the sofa irritatingly.
‘No, this match does not suit us’, said Vasu while taking off his shoes.
Revathi was surprised. Lalitha is such a nice girl who cannot be found fault with. She knew her right from her childhood. Her sister Rama was her classmate. Lalitha is a great beauty. She is a great singer and earning well too.
‘What is the matter Vasu? She is a beautiful girl. Moreover all her people like you too.’
Vasu looked at his sister-in-law embarrassingly.
‘That girl is very fast. She is always busy with her programmes and press meets. She is not like you. Though you are highly educated you are more like an ordinary house wife.’
Revathi was astonished.
‘It seems she was offered a job in Nrytya Kshetra. It was a very good offer indeed. But she did not like it. It was a perfect job with a specified number of working hours. One could be free after those hours….. Actually it seems she does not like to take up a regular job. She rather enjoys giving programmes. We do not like it….’
‘If she gives programmes what is our problem? There is a team manager. He has been there with her for a longtime. He takes care of everything. She need not do anything except designing the programme and practising it…..’
Vasu conveyed his disagreement with a shake of his head.
‘You know it. I want a peaceful life. You know the nature of my job too, don’t you? I am always busy going on tours. Al least the other person should be in a less demanding job to take care of the home’, said Vasu and went to the bathroom taking a towel.
Revathi slowly walked into her room.
On the table, a small slip was fluttering. It was the list she made last night – the list of provisions to be bought. It included everything right from safety pins to coffee powder. When she thought of how she had been tamed in the course of all those years she could not but laugh to herself.
‘You cannot go to the market. You are allergic to dust. You have no time for shopping. The transactions at the bank would be difficult for you. Don’t bother, you take rest. You can watch T.V. On Sunday do not fix up any programme. Do not think of visiting your friends. You can tidy up the house. You can starch your sarees. You can cook good food and take rest to catch up with the week long tiredness.’
But who takes rest in reality? Sunday is in fact more tiring than a working day with all the cleaning, cooking and looking after the children. This is the rest she gets! …… Did she know any other place except her office and home? Does she know anything else other than going to films and market riding pillion to Chandram?
Revathi threw the list in the dust bin. Chandram seemed to have come. She could hear his voice from the living room. Revathi went into the kitchen and wanted to switch on the rice-cooker. But she could not find the two-in-one plug. She looked for it on the shelf. The kitchen was neatly arranged. Everything was in its place. Everything was at hand, very convenient for cooking. Her mother would always say the kitchen looked the best in the entire house. Chandram liked the house to be spick and span. To have a single child, to laugh gently, to walk gracefully – these were the things Chandram liked.’ She always followed them. The qualities that were natural to her like – running to the door to pick up the newspaper in the morning, burst out laughing for every small joke, reacting extremely to every passion and pleasure – no longer existed. Her mother was pleasantly surprised. She said ‘how nice you have become!’…..Wrong, she should have said, ‘how nice you were tamed!’ How is she now? Revathi looked out through the window. There was a caterpillar crawling on the kidney-bean creeper as slowly, meekly and methodically as Chandram would like women to be. Every now and then it would lift its head up to look at itself. It was exactly the way she changed herself by constant monitoring. It was moving forward with all satisfaction exactly the way she did….. Revathi could not find the two-in-one plug - ‘It should be here itself. If it is found both the rice cooker and the grinder can be operated simultaneously. It is like how she has been used for both the office work and the household chores. She is a two-in-one or a three-in-one in Chandram’s hands. If she is made to put on a nighty she can be placed in the bed room. She will be useful for romance. If she is made to wear a cotton saree she cooks food and attends to all the domestic chores. If she is made to wear an ironed saree and helped into a cycle rickshaw she goes to office obediently and sitting in her cabin without being affected by any virus does her office work. And what more, she brings money too….’ Wow! At last Revathi could lay her hands on the plug. She threw it away to a corner and plugged in the grinder directly. The grinder started working with a deafening noise. Chandram’s sighs of irritation could be heard. He came to her.
‘Oh! You are here! Are you still angry with me dear?….’
He tried to make peace with her.
‘Why should I be angry with you?’ said Revathi trying to tidy up the spoons and ladles though it was not needed.
‘You know, I shouted at you for no reason. Please try to understand me….. It is all for your good, isn’t it?….. You can jolly well finish the work at home and reach the office by 10 O’ clock and be back at home by five punctually…’
‘But I have to undergo a lot of tension in the office. You know how hard I have to work! In the new job these problems are not there. I’ll have only field work and I will have many subordinates…..’ said Revathi looking at Chandram.
Chandram’s face again showed signs of anger.
‘You will be alone in those camps, conferences and hotels. You have to counsel people. It might set tongues wagging.
Revathi’s face became red. ‘What do they wag? Why do they do it? Vasu is doing a similar job as marketing officer for ten years now. He earns twenty thousand rupees a month. Isn’t everyone praising him?’
‘He is a man….’
Revathi flung away the spoons she had in her hand. Making a sharp noise the spoons fell all over the kitchen. She stood still for a moment to gain control over the shivering body. ‘An instrement…… a tool ……’ she flew into a fury. ‘She is not a tool. This has to be made clear. She has already delayed it for long. That’s all.’
‘I am going to take up my new job tomorrow….’
- - - - - - -
‘Don’t give it another thought madam! It’s indeed a good decision.’
Revathi smiled.
‘Thank you Anand. I too think so. I’ll have to face many personal problems with the transfer now. Moreover, the present offer doesn’t seem to be the one to be ignored. Since it deals only with sales, if marketing is done carefully, that would be enough…’
‘That’s what I’ve been telling you madam. It’s a good company. The returns will be very encouraging.’
Revathi nodded her head in agreement.
Anand rose to his feet.
‘Anyway, all the best madam! I’ll be meeting you again only next week. This week I’m going on a tour. I just can’t imagine the office without you. But you’ll have a bright future there.’ Saying so Anand took leave of her.
The paper weight that was spun by Revathi was spinning around on the table. The telex machine was a making a noise. The room had been familiar to her for eight years. It was a spacious, cool and cozy room, very convenient to work. She wouldn’t be sitting there alone writing the bills anymore. In a much bigger corporate office the whole administration would be under her control. Revathi’s lips spread with a smile. She stretched herself. Through the glass partition the packing division on the other side could be seen. Near a table in one corner Mrs. Rattamma, an elderly lady, was cutting the pad at a great speed. How quick her hands work! How agile the hands of a woman could be!
‘Yes! It’s a challenge to me!
Just as you acquire new blood and improve health when you donate blood, you improve your horizon as you interact with new people. It would be a real change.
Revathi pulled out the drawer, picked up her purse and locked it pushing it back. Leaving the keys on the table she came out. It was very pleasant outside. It looked as though it was going to rain. Revathi was highly excited.
The agony she had suffered for the past four days simply vanished. Now she needn’t go to another town taking the baby with her. Chandram, the baby and she could remain together. The cool breeze brushing her cheeks appeared to her as if it was sharing her happiness.
Her new job ……… with plenty of scope for quick promotions …… a good salary and a beautiful house…….
* * * * * *
‘Oh Lord! You didn’t tell this to everyone, did you?!
Revathi frowned.
‘Won’t they know if I don’t go to office tomorrow? Don’t I go there to resign?’
‘That’s what I say! Don’t entertain any such foolish ideas! Go to your office tomorrow as usual. Don’t think of anything else.’
‘May I ask you, why?’
‘Don’t ask me any further questions. You want to quit a good job and …….’
‘Good for whom? Do you think it’s a good thing for me to go to another town and live there all alone?’
Chandram’s face reddened with raze. He flung away the paper he held in his hand ……
‘I can’t answer you. You do whatever you like.’
‘Oh God! I don’t know what makes you so furious! If I decline the transfer, then I’ll have to forego my increment and remain in that cabin forever. This new job is also good, isn’t it?’
‘Stop it …… Do you think it is a good job? Instead of sitting in your room comfortably and doing your work without anybody’s interference, do you wish to rule the world? Will the heavens fall if you don’t get the increments and promotions?’
‘Did you not go on strike last year when your increment was stopped?’
‘That is different…. this is different……. We get satisfaction in this job. You needn’t step out of your office. You can lead a respectable life.’
‘Leading a respectable life to you means not having to interact with men. Am I right? There will not be any danger to my chastity, right?’
Chandram looked at Revathi with all hatredness…..
‘It seems that you have a desire to work with men! It’s a shame!’
The enraged Chandram rose to his feet hastily, put on his shirt and walked out slamming the door behind him. Revathi felt as if that bang hit her right on the heart. The noise startled the baby who was fast asleep in her cot and she let out a frightened cry. Revathi put her to sleep again. The child was eight months old. The fair and healthy baby, who had always resembled Chandram, for the first time appeared to Revathi as just a beautiful baby with no features of Chandram. ‘Everything depends on our own imagination.’
The baby was again fast asleep. Revathi using her feet slowly and gradually brought the rocking cradle to a halt so that the baby was not disturbed. Did she know how to do these things earlier? After the baby was born, as it grew it also learnt to recognise the touch of its mother and the careful nursing done by her. That made Revathi understand day by day what makes the baby happy and comfortable. That was not the only thing. There were so many other things that she had learnt. She transformed herself into a young lady under the supervision of her mother and grandmother. She stopped jumping and running. In their opinion Revathi was a well-behaved and dignified girl who climbed all the steps of college and university and made her parents proud by winning many medals.
She was the one who allowed Chandram to tie the marital knot by bowing her head and holding on to his little finger she entered the in-laws’ place. Since then, she had been living there without causing any problem to anybody. She learnt all these things from experience. She gained all this experience by following the divine principle, ‘Don’t hurt others’. But all the while she never felt hurt herself. On the contrary, she felt happy for making everyone else happy. She bowed down humbly to all those forces that controlled her without her knowledge.
She always sought comfort from the thought that she was a free bird and a working woman who had her own individuality. This was the inner faith that made her withstand everything. But when the reigns of this freedom started pulling her hard, she realised who really controlled her life, both her private as well as public life. The clock struck twelve. Mechanically Revathi’s legs led her towards the kitchen. The baby would be waking up. It was time to feed her. Her hands started working mechanically. In a bowl she mixed a little dal, rice and chopped carrots, potatoes and tomatoes and put the bowl in the pressure cooker. Taking out the coffee-filter she put some coffee powder into it and poured boiled water in it. The fine tuned ears of Revathi could sense the drip-drop of the coffee into the empty lower compartment. How nice it would be to have a cup of coffee now! The mind put forward the suggestion. Revathi at once kept the milk, sugar and the cup ready. Filter…. the life that is filtered for her …..the life that is made ready after it is boiled and cooled……someone is giving her a pure life, packed without any side effects and making sure that she does not go astray. Has she desired all this? Revathi shook her head twice.
No, she never wished for anything. In fact she never thought of anything. She was just living like that. Within the boundaries laid by someone she was very cautiously living. She was living the life that was designed by someone else. In this life there was no role of her nor could she take pride in it. Revathi did not feel like having filter-coffee. She smiled to herself while placing the lid on the milk pot….. ‘How mechanical life is! It is just like a programme that is fed into the computer without a single mistake. It is an accurate statistical report.’
She heard somebody calling from the window. She came to the drawing room. It was Vasu. All of them stopped knocking at the door and ringing the bell so as not to wake the baby from her sleep. The baby did not yet come under anybody’s control.
As she opened the door she asked him ‘How is she?’
Vasu flung his briefcase into the sofa irritatingly.
‘No, this match does not suit us’, said Vasu while taking off his shoes.
Revathi was surprised. Lalitha is such a nice girl who cannot be found fault with. She knew her right from her childhood. Her sister Rama was her classmate. Lalitha is a great beauty. She is a great singer and earning well too.
‘What is the matter Vasu? She is a beautiful girl. Moreover all her people like you too.’
Vasu looked at his sister-in-law embarrassingly.
‘That girl is very fast. She is always busy with her programmes and press meets. She is not like you. Though you are highly educated you are more like an ordinary house wife.’
Revathi was astonished.
‘It seems she was offered a job in Nrytya Kshetra. It was a very good offer indeed. But she did not like it. It was a perfect job with a specified number of working hours. One could be free after those hours….. Actually it seems she does not like to take up a regular job. She rather enjoys giving programmes. We do not like it….’
‘If she gives programmes what is our problem? There is a team manager. He has been there with her for a longtime. He takes care of everything. She need not do anything except designing the programme and practising it…..’
Vasu conveyed his disagreement with a shake of his head.
‘You know it. I want a peaceful life. You know the nature of my job too, don’t you? I am always busy going on tours. Al least the other person should be in a less demanding job to take care of the home’, said Vasu and went to the bathroom taking a towel.
Revathi slowly walked into her room.
On the table, a small slip was fluttering. It was the list she made last night – the list of provisions to be bought. It included everything right from safety pins to coffee powder. When she thought of how she had been tamed in the course of all those years she could not but laugh to herself.
‘You cannot go to the market. You are allergic to dust. You have no time for shopping. The transactions at the bank would be difficult for you. Don’t bother, you take rest. You can watch T.V. On Sunday do not fix up any programme. Do not think of visiting your friends. You can tidy up the house. You can starch your sarees. You can cook good food and take rest to catch up with the week long tiredness.’
But who takes rest in reality? Sunday is in fact more tiring than a working day with all the cleaning, cooking and looking after the children. This is the rest she gets! …… Did she know any other place except her office and home? Does she know anything else other than going to films and market riding pillion to Chandram?
Revathi threw the list in the dust bin. Chandram seemed to have come. She could hear his voice from the living room. Revathi went into the kitchen and wanted to switch on the rice-cooker. But she could not find the two-in-one plug. She looked for it on the shelf. The kitchen was neatly arranged. Everything was in its place. Everything was at hand, very convenient for cooking. Her mother would always say the kitchen looked the best in the entire house. Chandram liked the house to be spick and span. To have a single child, to laugh gently, to walk gracefully – these were the things Chandram liked.’ She always followed them. The qualities that were natural to her like – running to the door to pick up the newspaper in the morning, burst out laughing for every small joke, reacting extremely to every passion and pleasure – no longer existed. Her mother was pleasantly surprised. She said ‘how nice you have become!’…..Wrong, she should have said, ‘how nice you were tamed!’ How is she now? Revathi looked out through the window. There was a caterpillar crawling on the kidney-bean creeper as slowly, meekly and methodically as Chandram would like women to be. Every now and then it would lift its head up to look at itself. It was exactly the way she changed herself by constant monitoring. It was moving forward with all satisfaction exactly the way she did….. Revathi could not find the two-in-one plug - ‘It should be here itself. If it is found both the rice cooker and the grinder can be operated simultaneously. It is like how she has been used for both the office work and the household chores. She is a two-in-one or a three-in-one in Chandram’s hands. If she is made to put on a nighty she can be placed in the bed room. She will be useful for romance. If she is made to wear a cotton saree she cooks food and attends to all the domestic chores. If she is made to wear an ironed saree and helped into a cycle rickshaw she goes to office obediently and sitting in her cabin without being affected by any virus does her office work. And what more, she brings money too….’ Wow! At last Revathi could lay her hands on the plug. She threw it away to a corner and plugged in the grinder directly. The grinder started working with a deafening noise. Chandram’s sighs of irritation could be heard. He came to her.
‘Oh! You are here! Are you still angry with me dear?….’
He tried to make peace with her.
‘Why should I be angry with you?’ said Revathi trying to tidy up the spoons and ladles though it was not needed.
‘You know, I shouted at you for no reason. Please try to understand me….. It is all for your good, isn’t it?….. You can jolly well finish the work at home and reach the office by 10 O’ clock and be back at home by five punctually…’
‘But I have to undergo a lot of tension in the office. You know how hard I have to work! In the new job these problems are not there. I’ll have only field work and I will have many subordinates…..’ said Revathi looking at Chandram.
Chandram’s face again showed signs of anger.
‘You will be alone in those camps, conferences and hotels. You have to counsel people. It might set tongues wagging.
Revathi’s face became red. ‘What do they wag? Why do they do it? Vasu is doing a similar job as marketing officer for ten years now. He earns twenty thousand rupees a month. Isn’t everyone praising him?’
‘He is a man….’
Revathi flung away the spoons she had in her hand. Making a sharp noise the spoons fell all over the kitchen. She stood still for a moment to gain control over the shivering body. ‘An instrement…… a tool ……’ she flew into a fury. ‘She is not a tool. This has to be made clear. She has already delayed it for long. That’s all.’
‘I am going to take up my new job tomorrow….’
- - - - - - -
Translated from Telugu by Dr. Haribandi Lakshmi, EFL University
“Your latest novel ‘Kiss Kiss’ has robbed my heart of. Any thought of my sexual life with my husband all the years makes me vomit. I wonder how I lived all these years with a dimwit who does not know any passion or pleasure. How do I get liberated from this life now? Please let me know immediately….”.
Suvarcala
Kakinada
‘I am glad that at least now you have realized what a dimwit he is. But you do not have to worry. In my next novel I am going to suggest a thousand tips to such sanyasis which would help them understand that life is a kick. Follow them ….’
Sundaram tossed that book away with an uncontrollable rage.
‘Follow them! My foot! Am I a dimwit? Does he think I am a sanyasi? Your clamor for fame is idiotic! If you give my name with full address how can I hold my head high tomorrow in the office? ….’
As mentioned in ‘three tips for a beautiful face’ Suvarcala gave her face a mask of cucumber. She applied tomato juice to the neck and arms and was sitting there quietly to allow them to dry up. She did not speak. She just opened her eyes to see in which direction went the magazine that was flung by Sundaram. It was not possible to pick up a quarrel with him at that moment. She only signalled to him that if she moved the cucumber pieces would fall off.
‘What a disgrace! …. You wrote everything about me - my name, place, house number and the job, just because you have a pen in your hand and made me a fool. How could you do that to me? How can I hold my head high in the office?’
Holding his head with his hands Sundaram slumped onto the sofa. Sarabh who was already there in the sofa screamed. And Sundaram who fell on him without noticing him screamed even louder. All this happened in a split second.
‘What is this? Why did you not go to school?’ asked the surprised Sundaram. Sarabh just showed his hand towards Suvarcala without moving even an inch and remained in the same position.
‘What happened to you dear?’
‘At school everybody started teasing me. They called me ‘a mad cap’. Even my teacher ….’
Sarabh’s voice choked with grief. ‘What? They called you mad!’ exclaimed Sundaram with his mouth wide open.
Sarabh gave his father a long look. He picked up the latest edition of a weekly magazine and handed it to him.
Sundaram turned the pages of it hurriedly. Under the column ‘Suggestions to remedy madness of all kinds.’ Sarabh’s photo with the following question was found.
‘Doctor! His behaviour is always strange. He does things, which you ask him not to do. He neither knows anything himself, nor listens to others. Do you think this is madness?’ This was Suvarcala’s question. Under it,
‘Certainly it is madness! At once consult at our hospital. If you don’t he might start biting everyone’ – this reply with his school address was given.
When he was sure that his father had gone through it Sarabh looked at his father most pitiably as if to ask ‘What do you say now, Dad?’, which melted his father’s heart.
‘It seems there is madness in my very name itself. My teacher told me’ said Sarabh with a sobbing face.
‘Who said that? Did she not read the serial ‘Assarabha Sarabha’, which entranced the readers for three long years? Oh lord! … People have no taste….’ Said Suvarcala. She took off the cucumber pieces from her face, as it was five minutes then.
Sundaram had no energy to shout at her. He said mournfully, ‘How do you expect us to go out if you do all such foolish things? Your letters paint him as a mad fellow and me, as a spineless fellow. You tell us yourself what we have to do now?’
‘Do not put such a mournful face. I hate it. You read the book, ‘Why are you scared to go out’ written by Kasa. All your fears will vanish’ said Suvarcala angrily.
‘Daddy, I think I will change my name to Subba Rao as many people have that name, I hope I will not be called a mad fellow then’ said their darling son.
Sundaram’s heart melted with pity.
But it solidified immediately with Suvarcala’s loud question, ‘Are you coming to have breakfast or not?’ Sundaram lifted his head up, looked at his father sympathetically and said, ‘First you go and have it daddy. If it is good then you call me.’
‘Why, any new dish again?’ asked the frightened father.
‘Come on. Are you coming? It is already late by a minute now. I have to take my breakfast at 10 sharp’.
Sitting at the dining table Sundaram asked her, ‘What is this? You have not cooked anything yet.’
‘Who said I did not cook?’ Suvarcala expressed her astonishment. On a plate there were neatly chopped round slices of tamatoes, onions, cucumber, lime and the like, sprinkled with coriander leaves.
‘What is this?’ Asked Sundaram who was startled as if he was bitten by a scorpion.
‘Don’t get frightened for everything foolishly. It will only spoil your health. To remain tension-free and peaceful we have to eat plain vegetarian food….’
Sundaram let out a startled cry.
‘You mean we have to eat these things and remain tension-free. Do we have to eat these alone all the three times a day?’, Sundaram asked her with a grim face.
‘Why not? ….. Of course you will also eat two chapathies’, said Suvarcala eating the chopped vegetables heartily.
‘Don’t you make idly or upma for breakfast hereafter?’ asked Sundaram feeling depressed.
‘Don’t ever mention them. Those are very rich in calories. You have already got a potbelly by eating all such stuff. Look at yourself. You used to be thin like a bird five years ago. Now you have become a cylinder’ said Suvarcala while eating the carrot slices.
Sundarama swallowed the affront.
‘I cann’t eat this stuff. Please spare me! Is this the food for Sarabham too?’
Suvarcala’s face changed its colours. ‘What is Sarabham like Gardhabam? (Donkey) Said Suvarcala annoyingly.
‘Daddy, our neighbour, Mr. Lokanadham has come. He is very angry, I don’t know why. He wants to speak to you urgently’, said Sarabh.
‘Angry! What for?’ Sundaram slowly rose to his feet.
Mr. Lokanadham was standing in the hall and looked very serious.
‘Why are you standing? Please be seated’ said Sundaram with all respect.
‘No need. You talk very politely with a sweet smile but stab in the back…. We are not used to such things’ said Lokanadham with a frown.
Sundaram was puzzled. He looked at him in utter confusion.
‘We are neighbours, all right. If you like, you talk to us, otherwise don’t. But, is it fair to publish our names in the newspapers? ---’ said Lokanadham throwing a newspaper at him.
‘What happened?’, said Sundaram faintly.
‘You see it yourself’, saying so he walked away with vigorous strides.
Horrified, Sundaram opened the paper. Under the caption ‘Ideal husband Lokanadham’ there was an essay. All the details were written there – how good a cook Lokanadham was and now cleanly he washes the dishes. Suvacala wrote an excellent essay explaining what all women can achieve if there were husbands as cooperative as Lokanadham.
Sundaram was over-whelmed with both rage and laughter. He said ‘What hell have you done Suvarcala? How does it concern you whether he cooks food or washes the dishes? Do you think they keep quiet if you get all that published in a newspaper?’
Suvarcala, who had finished her breakfast by then, looked at him sharply and said seriously, ‘What is this? You neither do it nor do you approve somebody who does it. How can one stand such a suspicious creature?’
‘Oh God! A suspicious creature! If you make his biography public along with the photographs, do you think he will keep quiet? Is he a brother of Lord Buddha to be above pain and pleasure?’ said Sundaram wiping the sweat.
‘Why should he be angry? What sin have I committed? Is it the privilege of women alone to cook food and wash the dishes? Anybody can do these petty jobs. Yours is a demon’s life …. You say you don’t know how to do these things and leave your coffee cup too here and there. One has to be born blessed for anything. Look at Lokanadham’s wife! How happy and healthy she is!’ said Suvarcala with tears.
‘So what? Do you want me too to cook food and mop the floor?’ shouted Sundaram.
‘Why not? It is not a difficult job. Have I been doing them right from my birth? When I was studying in the college how glamorous I used to be! How many love letters did I receive! You yourself wrote a thousand and odd love letters, but of course with many mistakes. I had such a glamorous life, hadn’t I? By the way, the word glamour reminds me that it is 10.30 now. It is time to take a glass of fruit juice without sugar. Wait, I will come….’
‘Oh Lord! I can’t reason with her!’ saying so Sundaram fell back.
‘True, indeed! You can’t, certainly not! You only know how to alienate your mother and sisters. Nobody else can do it’ said Varalakshmamma.
Sundaram was dumbstruck as if he was struck by a lightening.
‘When did you come mother?’ He was overjoyed to see his mother.
‘Mother! I am starved! You have saved me from dying by coming here though quite unexpectedly’, said Sundaram delightedly.
‘Yes, true! Whenever you see me you think only of your food and tummy. I am reduced to a skeleton by cooking for you. I laboured hard to bring you up only to be detested by you’. She broke down and wept.
Sundaram was taken aback on seeing her crying bitterly. Getting angry he asked her, ‘Did father scold you?’
‘Why would he scold me? If he were to be the one to scold me and beat me I wouldn’t have faced all this humiliation today.’ Saying so she has blown her nose.
‘What happened mother? For God’s sake please stop all these long preambles and metrical reproaches and tell me what has happened. I am going mad not knowing what the matter is’, said Sundaram controlling his fury.
‘What more should happen dear? How humiliated we have been! Oh God! Tell me - Did I ever scold you or your wife? Did I ever make you do the household work? It seems that at the time of your marriage I complained that your in-laws did not treat us properly. It seems your sister too grumbled at them for they did not offer her a good saree. That was the sin we reportedly committed. Perhaps at that time, being an old woman, I might have felt bad for they did not offer us good sarees. Is it a crime?’ She started sobbing again.
Sundaram could not make head or tail out of it. He was confused. He looked alternately at his wife who was sipping the juice, and at his mother who was sobbing and blowing her nose.
Varalakshmamma’s blood boiled.
‘What is that mad gaze? See how your wife has dragged us to the streets!….’ She took out a paper from her hand bag and threw it at his face.
‘Nagging mothers-in-law, - be careful – written by Suvarcala’ …. Sundaram’s head reeled. He felt as if the letters had grown as big as the palm fruits and were coming to attack him.
‘What is this?’ Turning to his wife he asked her with a feeble tone.
‘Your first experience at your in-law’s place’ – a column with this caption was introduced. They announced a grinder as the first prize for the best essay. Your mother’s grumbles on our wedding day are fresh in my mind as if I heard them just yesterday. I thought it would read very natural if I .... ‘ Suvarcala hesitated.
‘How dare you write an essay on my mother to make it read natural and bag a prize! You blackhead!’ Sundaram expressed his anguish.
‘See, I hate people who abuse like this! Don’t think you can scold me! This is the reason why my mother at the time of our marriage shed tears saying that I entered an ungracious house.
‘What! She shed tears! And what more, she was worried that ours was an ungracious house! Ask her how gracious her own house is …. How dare she make such a nasty remark! ……’
‘Mother …. Mother …. Please stop it. Please listen to me’. Sundaram was scared fearing that his mother and wife might start a war.
‘Why should I stop? You spineless fellow! You are an idiot. You can’t control your wife. You ask me to listen to you! I don’t want to touch even a drop of water at your house. I am going ….’ Varalakshmamma started to leave in a huff.
‘What? Should he control his wife? Do you think his wife is an animal? How savage you people are!’ …. Suvarcala was piqued.
‘Yes, yes! We are indeed savage people! You are a noble person! Why don’t you open your mouth when she is making all such offensive remarks?… You dumb fellow!…’
‘Mother please, you come here! I have to tell you many things. First let me tell you, it has been two days since I had food….’ Sundaram holding her hands most pathetically led her to the kitchen.
‘Very strange! You are not even taking your food my dear…’ she said with tears welling in her eyes and walked towards the kitchen. Watching his granny walk towards the kitchen Sarabh ran in that direction. Within two minutes the aroma of Upma filled the whole house. Suvarcala looked at the direction they went with a heavy heart. As written in the novel ‘Assarabha Sarabha’ she tired to lift one eyebrow up and look seriously, but couldn’t. Both the eyebrows started moving as she tried. She thought it was no use trying further. She tried to get red streaks in her eyes standing before the mirror. No use either. Even when she squeezed her eyes red streaks did not appear. Instead tears welled in the eyes. She gave it up. Vexed up, she lay down in the sofa, and picked up the magazine left there by Sarabh. When she was looking at the name ‘Suvarcala’ fondly, she happened to find an announcement:
‘Are you depressed? Are you worried about something which you can’t share with anyone? Share it with your bosom friend. In this page a new column ‘A letter to a bosom friend’ is going to be introduced next week.’
Suvarcala was elated.
Dear bosom friend
A few minutes ago there took place a Kurukshetra war in my house. I praised my neighbour, a useless rogue, saying that he was a good cook. It seems what I did was wrong. Can you hear, my bosom friend? Both my husband and mother-in-law belong to the species of wild creatures… I feel that there is just no place for virtue in this world. Tell me friend, tell me the truth…..’
Suvarcala was writing with great excitement.
* * * * *
“Your latest novel ‘Kiss Kiss’ has robbed my heart of. Any thought of my sexual life with my husband all the years makes me vomit. I wonder how I lived all these years with a dimwit who does not know any passion or pleasure. How do I get liberated from this life now? Please let me know immediately….”.
Suvarcala
Kakinada
‘I am glad that at least now you have realized what a dimwit he is. But you do not have to worry. In my next novel I am going to suggest a thousand tips to such sanyasis which would help them understand that life is a kick. Follow them ….’
Sundaram tossed that book away with an uncontrollable rage.
‘Follow them! My foot! Am I a dimwit? Does he think I am a sanyasi? Your clamor for fame is idiotic! If you give my name with full address how can I hold my head high tomorrow in the office? ….’
As mentioned in ‘three tips for a beautiful face’ Suvarcala gave her face a mask of cucumber. She applied tomato juice to the neck and arms and was sitting there quietly to allow them to dry up. She did not speak. She just opened her eyes to see in which direction went the magazine that was flung by Sundaram. It was not possible to pick up a quarrel with him at that moment. She only signalled to him that if she moved the cucumber pieces would fall off.
‘What a disgrace! …. You wrote everything about me - my name, place, house number and the job, just because you have a pen in your hand and made me a fool. How could you do that to me? How can I hold my head high in the office?’
Holding his head with his hands Sundaram slumped onto the sofa. Sarabh who was already there in the sofa screamed. And Sundaram who fell on him without noticing him screamed even louder. All this happened in a split second.
‘What is this? Why did you not go to school?’ asked the surprised Sundaram. Sarabh just showed his hand towards Suvarcala without moving even an inch and remained in the same position.
‘What happened to you dear?’
‘At school everybody started teasing me. They called me ‘a mad cap’. Even my teacher ….’
Sarabh’s voice choked with grief. ‘What? They called you mad!’ exclaimed Sundaram with his mouth wide open.
Sarabh gave his father a long look. He picked up the latest edition of a weekly magazine and handed it to him.
Sundaram turned the pages of it hurriedly. Under the column ‘Suggestions to remedy madness of all kinds.’ Sarabh’s photo with the following question was found.
‘Doctor! His behaviour is always strange. He does things, which you ask him not to do. He neither knows anything himself, nor listens to others. Do you think this is madness?’ This was Suvarcala’s question. Under it,
‘Certainly it is madness! At once consult at our hospital. If you don’t he might start biting everyone’ – this reply with his school address was given.
When he was sure that his father had gone through it Sarabh looked at his father most pitiably as if to ask ‘What do you say now, Dad?’, which melted his father’s heart.
‘It seems there is madness in my very name itself. My teacher told me’ said Sarabh with a sobbing face.
‘Who said that? Did she not read the serial ‘Assarabha Sarabha’, which entranced the readers for three long years? Oh lord! … People have no taste….’ Said Suvarcala. She took off the cucumber pieces from her face, as it was five minutes then.
Sundaram had no energy to shout at her. He said mournfully, ‘How do you expect us to go out if you do all such foolish things? Your letters paint him as a mad fellow and me, as a spineless fellow. You tell us yourself what we have to do now?’
‘Do not put such a mournful face. I hate it. You read the book, ‘Why are you scared to go out’ written by Kasa. All your fears will vanish’ said Suvarcala angrily.
‘Daddy, I think I will change my name to Subba Rao as many people have that name, I hope I will not be called a mad fellow then’ said their darling son.
Sundaram’s heart melted with pity.
But it solidified immediately with Suvarcala’s loud question, ‘Are you coming to have breakfast or not?’ Sundaram lifted his head up, looked at his father sympathetically and said, ‘First you go and have it daddy. If it is good then you call me.’
‘Why, any new dish again?’ asked the frightened father.
‘Come on. Are you coming? It is already late by a minute now. I have to take my breakfast at 10 sharp’.
Sitting at the dining table Sundaram asked her, ‘What is this? You have not cooked anything yet.’
‘Who said I did not cook?’ Suvarcala expressed her astonishment. On a plate there were neatly chopped round slices of tamatoes, onions, cucumber, lime and the like, sprinkled with coriander leaves.
‘What is this?’ Asked Sundaram who was startled as if he was bitten by a scorpion.
‘Don’t get frightened for everything foolishly. It will only spoil your health. To remain tension-free and peaceful we have to eat plain vegetarian food….’
Sundaram let out a startled cry.
‘You mean we have to eat these things and remain tension-free. Do we have to eat these alone all the three times a day?’, Sundaram asked her with a grim face.
‘Why not? ….. Of course you will also eat two chapathies’, said Suvarcala eating the chopped vegetables heartily.
‘Don’t you make idly or upma for breakfast hereafter?’ asked Sundaram feeling depressed.
‘Don’t ever mention them. Those are very rich in calories. You have already got a potbelly by eating all such stuff. Look at yourself. You used to be thin like a bird five years ago. Now you have become a cylinder’ said Suvarcala while eating the carrot slices.
Sundarama swallowed the affront.
‘I cann’t eat this stuff. Please spare me! Is this the food for Sarabham too?’
Suvarcala’s face changed its colours. ‘What is Sarabham like Gardhabam? (Donkey) Said Suvarcala annoyingly.
‘Daddy, our neighbour, Mr. Lokanadham has come. He is very angry, I don’t know why. He wants to speak to you urgently’, said Sarabh.
‘Angry! What for?’ Sundaram slowly rose to his feet.
Mr. Lokanadham was standing in the hall and looked very serious.
‘Why are you standing? Please be seated’ said Sundaram with all respect.
‘No need. You talk very politely with a sweet smile but stab in the back…. We are not used to such things’ said Lokanadham with a frown.
Sundaram was puzzled. He looked at him in utter confusion.
‘We are neighbours, all right. If you like, you talk to us, otherwise don’t. But, is it fair to publish our names in the newspapers? ---’ said Lokanadham throwing a newspaper at him.
‘What happened?’, said Sundaram faintly.
‘You see it yourself’, saying so he walked away with vigorous strides.
Horrified, Sundaram opened the paper. Under the caption ‘Ideal husband Lokanadham’ there was an essay. All the details were written there – how good a cook Lokanadham was and now cleanly he washes the dishes. Suvacala wrote an excellent essay explaining what all women can achieve if there were husbands as cooperative as Lokanadham.
Sundaram was over-whelmed with both rage and laughter. He said ‘What hell have you done Suvarcala? How does it concern you whether he cooks food or washes the dishes? Do you think they keep quiet if you get all that published in a newspaper?’
Suvarcala, who had finished her breakfast by then, looked at him sharply and said seriously, ‘What is this? You neither do it nor do you approve somebody who does it. How can one stand such a suspicious creature?’
‘Oh God! A suspicious creature! If you make his biography public along with the photographs, do you think he will keep quiet? Is he a brother of Lord Buddha to be above pain and pleasure?’ said Sundaram wiping the sweat.
‘Why should he be angry? What sin have I committed? Is it the privilege of women alone to cook food and wash the dishes? Anybody can do these petty jobs. Yours is a demon’s life …. You say you don’t know how to do these things and leave your coffee cup too here and there. One has to be born blessed for anything. Look at Lokanadham’s wife! How happy and healthy she is!’ said Suvarcala with tears.
‘So what? Do you want me too to cook food and mop the floor?’ shouted Sundaram.
‘Why not? It is not a difficult job. Have I been doing them right from my birth? When I was studying in the college how glamorous I used to be! How many love letters did I receive! You yourself wrote a thousand and odd love letters, but of course with many mistakes. I had such a glamorous life, hadn’t I? By the way, the word glamour reminds me that it is 10.30 now. It is time to take a glass of fruit juice without sugar. Wait, I will come….’
‘Oh Lord! I can’t reason with her!’ saying so Sundaram fell back.
‘True, indeed! You can’t, certainly not! You only know how to alienate your mother and sisters. Nobody else can do it’ said Varalakshmamma.
Sundaram was dumbstruck as if he was struck by a lightening.
‘When did you come mother?’ He was overjoyed to see his mother.
‘Mother! I am starved! You have saved me from dying by coming here though quite unexpectedly’, said Sundaram delightedly.
‘Yes, true! Whenever you see me you think only of your food and tummy. I am reduced to a skeleton by cooking for you. I laboured hard to bring you up only to be detested by you’. She broke down and wept.
Sundaram was taken aback on seeing her crying bitterly. Getting angry he asked her, ‘Did father scold you?’
‘Why would he scold me? If he were to be the one to scold me and beat me I wouldn’t have faced all this humiliation today.’ Saying so she has blown her nose.
‘What happened mother? For God’s sake please stop all these long preambles and metrical reproaches and tell me what has happened. I am going mad not knowing what the matter is’, said Sundaram controlling his fury.
‘What more should happen dear? How humiliated we have been! Oh God! Tell me - Did I ever scold you or your wife? Did I ever make you do the household work? It seems that at the time of your marriage I complained that your in-laws did not treat us properly. It seems your sister too grumbled at them for they did not offer her a good saree. That was the sin we reportedly committed. Perhaps at that time, being an old woman, I might have felt bad for they did not offer us good sarees. Is it a crime?’ She started sobbing again.
Sundaram could not make head or tail out of it. He was confused. He looked alternately at his wife who was sipping the juice, and at his mother who was sobbing and blowing her nose.
Varalakshmamma’s blood boiled.
‘What is that mad gaze? See how your wife has dragged us to the streets!….’ She took out a paper from her hand bag and threw it at his face.
‘Nagging mothers-in-law, - be careful – written by Suvarcala’ …. Sundaram’s head reeled. He felt as if the letters had grown as big as the palm fruits and were coming to attack him.
‘What is this?’ Turning to his wife he asked her with a feeble tone.
‘Your first experience at your in-law’s place’ – a column with this caption was introduced. They announced a grinder as the first prize for the best essay. Your mother’s grumbles on our wedding day are fresh in my mind as if I heard them just yesterday. I thought it would read very natural if I .... ‘ Suvarcala hesitated.
‘How dare you write an essay on my mother to make it read natural and bag a prize! You blackhead!’ Sundaram expressed his anguish.
‘See, I hate people who abuse like this! Don’t think you can scold me! This is the reason why my mother at the time of our marriage shed tears saying that I entered an ungracious house.
‘What! She shed tears! And what more, she was worried that ours was an ungracious house! Ask her how gracious her own house is …. How dare she make such a nasty remark! ……’
‘Mother …. Mother …. Please stop it. Please listen to me’. Sundaram was scared fearing that his mother and wife might start a war.
‘Why should I stop? You spineless fellow! You are an idiot. You can’t control your wife. You ask me to listen to you! I don’t want to touch even a drop of water at your house. I am going ….’ Varalakshmamma started to leave in a huff.
‘What? Should he control his wife? Do you think his wife is an animal? How savage you people are!’ …. Suvarcala was piqued.
‘Yes, yes! We are indeed savage people! You are a noble person! Why don’t you open your mouth when she is making all such offensive remarks?… You dumb fellow!…’
‘Mother please, you come here! I have to tell you many things. First let me tell you, it has been two days since I had food….’ Sundaram holding her hands most pathetically led her to the kitchen.
‘Very strange! You are not even taking your food my dear…’ she said with tears welling in her eyes and walked towards the kitchen. Watching his granny walk towards the kitchen Sarabh ran in that direction. Within two minutes the aroma of Upma filled the whole house. Suvarcala looked at the direction they went with a heavy heart. As written in the novel ‘Assarabha Sarabha’ she tired to lift one eyebrow up and look seriously, but couldn’t. Both the eyebrows started moving as she tried. She thought it was no use trying further. She tried to get red streaks in her eyes standing before the mirror. No use either. Even when she squeezed her eyes red streaks did not appear. Instead tears welled in the eyes. She gave it up. Vexed up, she lay down in the sofa, and picked up the magazine left there by Sarabh. When she was looking at the name ‘Suvarcala’ fondly, she happened to find an announcement:
‘Are you depressed? Are you worried about something which you can’t share with anyone? Share it with your bosom friend. In this page a new column ‘A letter to a bosom friend’ is going to be introduced next week.’
Suvarcala was elated.
Dear bosom friend
A few minutes ago there took place a Kurukshetra war in my house. I praised my neighbour, a useless rogue, saying that he was a good cook. It seems what I did was wrong. Can you hear, my bosom friend? Both my husband and mother-in-law belong to the species of wild creatures… I feel that there is just no place for virtue in this world. Tell me friend, tell me the truth…..’
Suvarcala was writing with great excitement.
* * * * *
Monday, March 2, 2009
Translated from Telugu by Dr. Haribandi Lakshmi, EFL University
It was a pleasant feeling that those letters were growing bigger and bigger in size and were encircling her and leaving her alternatively. If a shape were given to a wish it would perhaps have the power to pierce the heart. Parvathi restlessly turned in the bed from one side to another. Bhaskar was sleeping at a distance that her hand could reach. She looked at him seriously for a while. She had a guilty feeling somewhere in her heart. ‘Does he have any secret in his life?’ ‘It cannot have an answer’ pat came the reply.
Where is the chance? From the time he gets up in the morning he teaches three batches of students for three hours, one hour each batch. Then he goes to college. In the evening he comes home, takes a cup of tea and starts teaching again. As far as EAMCET coaching is concerned there is no one who is better than him. In his life there is just no room for any feelings or emotions. Then what about her restlessness? Her very thinking in those lines is wrong. She closed her eyes and tried hard to sleep. Though she says ‘no!’ ‘no!’ that scene appears in front of her eyes again and again.
- - - - - - -
The phone in the computer section seemed to be dead. She had got irritated by trying for it several times and finally went there personally. When she went there, he alone was there trying some new design on the computer. Out of curiosity, she stepped forward without disturbing him. On the computer screen, the letters ‘PARVATHI’ were surging like the ends of a saree. Back and forth wrapping the black letters ‘SHASHI’ and were moving….. Parvathi’s legs were shaken a little. His eyes that turned red and the way his gaze was fixed on the screen… In a second he sensed that somebody was around and quickly deleted the letters from the screen. When he turned back – he was aghast to see her. Parvathi recovered from the shock herself and rushed to her chamber. Initially she was furious. How dare he! Before she could think of anything he barged in. He started speaking hurriedly before she could say anything… she should not feel hurt…. She might ask him if he did not know what was proper and what was improper. But, he said, that special feeling one would get on meeting a person – the feeling of deep love and admission was experienced only once in a lifetime. It was not her fault, he said. He said he thought a lot about it but he was helpless. He said there was nothing wrong in loving a person who was passionate and who could inspire others. He said he was worried a lot that he would not be able to express his feelings to her. He thought he would not get a chance to do it at all. But, he said, his wish was fulfilled that day unexpectedly. He assured her that he would not disturb her in any way…..
When she witnessed the door, he closed behind him recklessly, banging a while and then slowly coming to a halt, she felt that her condition too was similar to that. In the three bed room apartment, practically she uses only two rooms – the bed room and the kitchen. She gets up at six in the morning and enters the kitchen. Once she steps into the kitchen she has to be there itself and cook food without making any noise. The clattering of the pots and pans is banned. The other two rooms are occupied by the students who come for coaching. It was Bhskar’s order that the students should not be disturbed. Walking softly, lest her feet should make a noise, she cooks food with utmost devotion. That is her duty. There is just no room for any other thought. At ten O’ clock she goes to office. Again by five O’ clock she is back in the world where there are no sounds, nor any room for listening to music or watching television. She has to remain as an embodiment of silence, like a statue. Bhaskar does not know any other world except his college and the tuition that he gives at home. There is no thought of anything else. When the whole life is spent being caught in the meaningless and tiring rate race where there is room not even for any conversation, suddenly there appeared a shower of words. There is a stream of thought, which never happened earlier. She took out from the drawer of her desk the newspaper cuttings that Shashikanth gave her many times in the past saying, ‘Have you read my latest poem, madam?’ She could see in every poem some word or other that was synonymous with her name ‘Parvathi’, incorporated somewhere or other very aptly turned page after page, she could see newer and newer angles. It was as if the old and worn out letters ‘LOVE’ were appearing new and going on changing their colour on the computer screen. Whenever he enters her room with a file, what she does usually is wishing him casually, signaling him to sit, signing the file seriously and getting back to her work. That day too as usual Shashikanth wished her as he entered the room. Parvathi felt a little nervous and lowered her head. Her hands were trembling a little. She tightened her fists. He left the file on the table and walked away. After half an hour when she was signing his leave letter she could not ask him, ‘Are you not well, Shashi?’ while leaving he left a cover on her table. She looked at that cover addressed to ‘Mrs. Parvathi’ for quite a long time. Was he apologizing? Did he say that he committed a mistake? What did he say? Parvathi opened the cover with trembling hands. There were lines written in a beautiful hand…
‘After several sleepless nights and days that were wet with tears….. about the sad experience he was compromised to, when reality struck him ….. about the secret love that had turned him into a poet but which he would never be able to experience ….
Another beautiful poetic excitement is what that letter was.
After reading the letter Parvathi folded the letter and put it in her bag. She felt like laughing, it was not known why. Not only for Shashi but also for her too would there be an opportunity to touch even the ends of that excitement? Parvathi opened her eyes and started staring at the ceiling. She imagined him to be standing on the other side of a huge, locked door. Perhaps she was thinking too much. She consoled herself…… After all we are human beings, aren’t we? We react….. We think …. And we act wisely……. She kept on looking at the fan that was running at a high speed and fell asleep after a long time.
* * *
When she was tidying up the kitchen without making any noise, Bhaskar screamed ‘Parvathi!’ As never before Bhaskar called her by name. Even before she could say ‘Yes’ he entered the kitchen. He has in his hands the letter written by Shashi. ‘You have no shame… you are educated but you don’t seem to have any culture ….’ Bhaskar’s face showed terrible hatred. Parvathi was scared. Before she could utter anything, Bhaskar caught her by her hair. He went on slapping her…. ‘chii….chii…’ what a shameful thing!’ He pushed her back hardly. Her head hit the kitchen platform and she fell down profusely bleeding. It’s a blessing that our mind works only up to the extent that it can tolerate the pain and sorrow. Parvathi remembered only her struggle to get some support when she was about to faint. When she opened her eyes after a long time, it was not known after how long it was, she found the house quite. She regained her consciousness when flies started hovering on the blood that flowed from her forehead. When she got up and entered the drawing room after washing her face, the phone started ringing. It was Mr. Sambhamurti, the manager at the other end. He said, ‘Shashi was arrested, madam?’
‘Why? What happened?’
Parvathi was perplexed.
‘It seems an SI from Seven Town police station raided Shashi’s apartment and found some banned literature in his possession. I am applying leave today, madam. I have to make arrangements to get Shashi released on bail.
‘Okay’ said Parvathi while hanging up.
Bhaskar must have approached his brother. One single letter…. What is this?… How did it all happen? …. Nothing did he ask her. He was not at all pained to suspect his wife. Did the person who had been living with him for many years not have as much value as that paper? The mere thought that somebody set his eyes on a thing that belonged to him, a thing on which he alone had every right, should drive him to take this extreme step? Infact who is she? She is not an individual by name Parvathi. She is just a doll bought by Bhaskar. She is a doll, which cooks food and gives him sexual pleasure when he turns the key on. She had never felt so miserable earlier even though her life was like a desert without any pleasures or friendly talk! She accommodated herself in it as naturally as one breathes. Her life, where she never left any room for the questions like ‘Why? What?’, itself became a question mark now.
Parvathi’s head was reeling. Why did Bhaskar go to that extent? He must have gone to his brother and poured out his woes. Immediately his brother must have got up, put on his uniform and taken Shashi into custody in the name of a raid. There is no wonder even if they had by now beaten Shashi black and blue in the name of interrogation. A police officer and an academic … in the opinion of both of them Parvathi is a woman who can easily make mistakes.
It was nothing but the headstrongness of these people who think that they can keep the power of decision-making in their own hands. How cruel!
Parvathi shivered from head to toe. She is an officer who can command fifty other officers with a mere signal from her eyes. She fell on her back helplessly with one slap. Tears welled in her eyes for the humiliation she suffered. Suddenly with a bang, the door was opened. There stood Bhaskar like an embodiment of fury.
‘What? … Are you feeling sorry for your paramour? Even your father cannot free him from jail. Within minutes my brother took action on him. If I don’t see his end…’ Bhaskar challenged.
‘You are mistaken… Actually…’
Before Parvathi could complete the sentence he pounced on her.
‘What…. So what if I am mistaken? Will you people kill me? Do you elope with him? …’ Listening to Bhaskar’s curses and abuses she leaned on to the wall. One does not expect to hear such strong language from Bhaskar whose command over the language is excellent as if he is a dear son of Goddess Saraswathi; and who spends all his time in the company of books. Bhaskar went on threatening her. He said that he had worked hard every minute and converted his blood into money to give every comfort to Parvathi. He made it very clear that he would teach Parvathi, who was highly arrogant, a lesson and declared that Shashi’s life would end in the prison itself. Until the doorbell rang Parvathi had to put up with all his outbursts of anger.
Mr. Sambamurthi, the manager, had come.
As he entered – for a second he was horrified to see the house with things strewn all over it and to find Parvathi sitting there as an embodiment of sorrow. But immediately he remembered his duty. He came to see Bhaskar.
As Bhaskar’s elder brother was dealing with the case he came to seek Bhaskar’s help in influencing him to free Shashi. It seemed that he did not know the truth.
“Mr. Bhaskar, Shashi is a gentleman…. He keeps to himself and doesn’t meddle with anybody’s affairs. He does his work in the office very sincerely…. He has the passion to write poetry but he does not have the courage to hide any banned literature..... He is a very simple man..."
Sambhamurthi went on and on. Bhaskar was sitting in the sofa with his face as hard as a rock.
“If Mr. Bhaskar puts a word they will grant him bail Mrs. Parvathi” – he said to her too.
As any gentleman would, Sambamurthi was feeling sorry that he had come at an odd time when the husband and wife seemed to have been fighting over something.
Inspite of all that agony, Parvathi could understand that though Mr. Sambhamurti was requesting Bhaskar to help him, as the head of the department she alone had the possibility of helping Shashi… Look at these men! For them a woman is a woman even if she is an officer. They think that a woman is of no use in such serious matters, as if these are the sort of things only men are capable of handling…… Parvathi came to a decision.
“Mr. Sambhamurti, you proceed to the office. I’ll try to get bail for Shashi. We will inform the head office and see what we can do.”
Sambhamurti realised the powers that Parvathi had, rather late. He offered an explanation timidly…
“You know…. I thought why should we involve the office in this matter…. anyway it was only Mr. Bhaskar’s elder brother ….. One word from him…”
“You make a move first. Take two of our UDCs for signing the register over there. I have told the cashier. Take ten thousand rupees. I am coming. You go first.” The officer in Parvathi awakened.
After Sambhamurti’s departure, there started the war behind the closed doors.
“You read the letter fully and then speak. Tell me if I am responsible for it….” Bhaskar’s reply to this was another four blows to Parvathi.
Bhaskar boasted that it was the last scene of the drama she enacted making him a fool and he had given it an end with a great twist and he was not going to allow her to live in peace and he would make her live the rest of her life wailing.
Parvathi did not get tears. Her mind was becoming insensitive, what with the rain of blows and all the abuses, which she never heard before. How to overcome the problem? What would happen to Shashi’s life once he entered the police records, booked in such cases? She was hurt that even after long years of married life there was room neither for friendship nor any trust. After many hours of deliberation she got up and took her bath. She made a trunk call to her brother Ravi in the very presence of Bhaskar. She asked him to come immediately as things were not all right at this place. When she was leaving Bhaskar yelled at her:
“Go!…. Shameless creature!….. You have no shame to have an affair…”
Ignoring him Parvathi walked out. For four days after that, she was too busy even to breathe. Ravi arrived the same day by evening. He and Bhaskar discussed the matter for hours together. Bhaskar swore that he would see the end of Parvathi for betraying him.
“What is this Parvathi? What have you done to yourself! I never thought that I would be discussing these things with you one day. How insulting Bhaskar’s remarks were! You heard him, didn’t you?….. But still he can’t be blamed…” said Ravi.
Parvathi did’t say anything. She remained silent as she could clearly see how the position of woman remained frozen at the same place where it had begun. Bhaskar gave wide publicity to the matter intentionally. Now she is a shameless woman in everybody’s eyes. She is a nasty woman who has an affair with somebody. Without thinking of anything, keeping her lips tight, Parvathi hurriedly finished all the work. Shashi was released on bail somehow, though the matter all most went up to CBCID. He was beaten black and blue in the jail. Ravi looked embarrassed when he went to the lawyer and to the police station. Only one thing he went on saying repeatedly. Parvathi used to be very modest when she was young. In his opinion, the younger Parvathi was good and well behaved. What is she now? She felt like roaring. What did she lose now afresh? It was only the cage that she thought until now she had. What she really lost was the bonds of slavery.
“Okay then. I’ll leave. You are a person who knows everything. The matter has crossed the threshold and reached the hostel. Anyway, keep calling…” said Ravi while packing his suitcase.
That was all. It meant that he wanted her not to visit his place. Parvathi was silent. She was used to live alone without speaking to anybody or making any noise. Ravi had left. She bought a few things that she required in the market and returned to the hostel.
The warden told her that she had a guest.
Shashi was sitting in the visitor’s room. He was taken aback when he found Parvathi pale and run down.
He said, ‘I will apply for transfer as early as possible.’
Parvathi looked at him with surprise. Shashi smiled.
He added hastily, “There is no problem. If I don’t get transferred I will resign.’
Parvathi asked him softly ‘Why?’
‘What is this Parvathi? It’s my responsibility’ – he said emotionally.
Parvathi became furious. ‘Don’t call me with singular Mr. Shashi. I’m not a responsibility to anyone.’ Shashi’s face turned pale.
‘Sorry madam. I’m responsible for the catastrophe in your life. If I don’t take any responsibility who else will’ said Shashi.
Parvathi laughed.
‘What are you thinking Mr. Shashi? It was an accident. That’s all. I met with an accident. Just like how one loses an eye or a limb, I have lost the opportunity to live in the world that belonged to me. That’s all. Mr. Shashi, I can understand you. Your affection, your emotions – all that is something purely your personal. It is the make-believe world you have created yourself. How can I enter that world? I have a share in neither your thoughts nor your dreams. In fact I have never thought that way about you. This matter can be considered only if I feel that I can’t live without that person. So, in a way I’m grateful to you. You have given me an opportunity to enter a divine world of which I did not know anything earlier. Believe me, I am entering that world on my own free-will. Bhaskar, who hurt both my body and soul, did me a favour too. I have now realilsed that I am an individual, “ said Parvathi.
‘What is that divine world you talked about madam?’ asked Shashi.
Parvathi smiled.
‘Oh, that one – ‘freedom’….’
Looking at Parvathi who was smiling, Shashi folded his hands. Through the window in the east a naughty breeze entered the room and caressed Parvathi’s tresses.
- - - - - - -
It was a pleasant feeling that those letters were growing bigger and bigger in size and were encircling her and leaving her alternatively. If a shape were given to a wish it would perhaps have the power to pierce the heart. Parvathi restlessly turned in the bed from one side to another. Bhaskar was sleeping at a distance that her hand could reach. She looked at him seriously for a while. She had a guilty feeling somewhere in her heart. ‘Does he have any secret in his life?’ ‘It cannot have an answer’ pat came the reply.
Where is the chance? From the time he gets up in the morning he teaches three batches of students for three hours, one hour each batch. Then he goes to college. In the evening he comes home, takes a cup of tea and starts teaching again. As far as EAMCET coaching is concerned there is no one who is better than him. In his life there is just no room for any feelings or emotions. Then what about her restlessness? Her very thinking in those lines is wrong. She closed her eyes and tried hard to sleep. Though she says ‘no!’ ‘no!’ that scene appears in front of her eyes again and again.
- - - - - - -
The phone in the computer section seemed to be dead. She had got irritated by trying for it several times and finally went there personally. When she went there, he alone was there trying some new design on the computer. Out of curiosity, she stepped forward without disturbing him. On the computer screen, the letters ‘PARVATHI’ were surging like the ends of a saree. Back and forth wrapping the black letters ‘SHASHI’ and were moving….. Parvathi’s legs were shaken a little. His eyes that turned red and the way his gaze was fixed on the screen… In a second he sensed that somebody was around and quickly deleted the letters from the screen. When he turned back – he was aghast to see her. Parvathi recovered from the shock herself and rushed to her chamber. Initially she was furious. How dare he! Before she could think of anything he barged in. He started speaking hurriedly before she could say anything… she should not feel hurt…. She might ask him if he did not know what was proper and what was improper. But, he said, that special feeling one would get on meeting a person – the feeling of deep love and admission was experienced only once in a lifetime. It was not her fault, he said. He said he thought a lot about it but he was helpless. He said there was nothing wrong in loving a person who was passionate and who could inspire others. He said he was worried a lot that he would not be able to express his feelings to her. He thought he would not get a chance to do it at all. But, he said, his wish was fulfilled that day unexpectedly. He assured her that he would not disturb her in any way…..
When she witnessed the door, he closed behind him recklessly, banging a while and then slowly coming to a halt, she felt that her condition too was similar to that. In the three bed room apartment, practically she uses only two rooms – the bed room and the kitchen. She gets up at six in the morning and enters the kitchen. Once she steps into the kitchen she has to be there itself and cook food without making any noise. The clattering of the pots and pans is banned. The other two rooms are occupied by the students who come for coaching. It was Bhskar’s order that the students should not be disturbed. Walking softly, lest her feet should make a noise, she cooks food with utmost devotion. That is her duty. There is just no room for any other thought. At ten O’ clock she goes to office. Again by five O’ clock she is back in the world where there are no sounds, nor any room for listening to music or watching television. She has to remain as an embodiment of silence, like a statue. Bhaskar does not know any other world except his college and the tuition that he gives at home. There is no thought of anything else. When the whole life is spent being caught in the meaningless and tiring rate race where there is room not even for any conversation, suddenly there appeared a shower of words. There is a stream of thought, which never happened earlier. She took out from the drawer of her desk the newspaper cuttings that Shashikanth gave her many times in the past saying, ‘Have you read my latest poem, madam?’ She could see in every poem some word or other that was synonymous with her name ‘Parvathi’, incorporated somewhere or other very aptly turned page after page, she could see newer and newer angles. It was as if the old and worn out letters ‘LOVE’ were appearing new and going on changing their colour on the computer screen. Whenever he enters her room with a file, what she does usually is wishing him casually, signaling him to sit, signing the file seriously and getting back to her work. That day too as usual Shashikanth wished her as he entered the room. Parvathi felt a little nervous and lowered her head. Her hands were trembling a little. She tightened her fists. He left the file on the table and walked away. After half an hour when she was signing his leave letter she could not ask him, ‘Are you not well, Shashi?’ while leaving he left a cover on her table. She looked at that cover addressed to ‘Mrs. Parvathi’ for quite a long time. Was he apologizing? Did he say that he committed a mistake? What did he say? Parvathi opened the cover with trembling hands. There were lines written in a beautiful hand…
‘After several sleepless nights and days that were wet with tears….. about the sad experience he was compromised to, when reality struck him ….. about the secret love that had turned him into a poet but which he would never be able to experience ….
Another beautiful poetic excitement is what that letter was.
After reading the letter Parvathi folded the letter and put it in her bag. She felt like laughing, it was not known why. Not only for Shashi but also for her too would there be an opportunity to touch even the ends of that excitement? Parvathi opened her eyes and started staring at the ceiling. She imagined him to be standing on the other side of a huge, locked door. Perhaps she was thinking too much. She consoled herself…… After all we are human beings, aren’t we? We react….. We think …. And we act wisely……. She kept on looking at the fan that was running at a high speed and fell asleep after a long time.
* * *
When she was tidying up the kitchen without making any noise, Bhaskar screamed ‘Parvathi!’ As never before Bhaskar called her by name. Even before she could say ‘Yes’ he entered the kitchen. He has in his hands the letter written by Shashi. ‘You have no shame… you are educated but you don’t seem to have any culture ….’ Bhaskar’s face showed terrible hatred. Parvathi was scared. Before she could utter anything, Bhaskar caught her by her hair. He went on slapping her…. ‘chii….chii…’ what a shameful thing!’ He pushed her back hardly. Her head hit the kitchen platform and she fell down profusely bleeding. It’s a blessing that our mind works only up to the extent that it can tolerate the pain and sorrow. Parvathi remembered only her struggle to get some support when she was about to faint. When she opened her eyes after a long time, it was not known after how long it was, she found the house quite. She regained her consciousness when flies started hovering on the blood that flowed from her forehead. When she got up and entered the drawing room after washing her face, the phone started ringing. It was Mr. Sambhamurti, the manager at the other end. He said, ‘Shashi was arrested, madam?’
‘Why? What happened?’
Parvathi was perplexed.
‘It seems an SI from Seven Town police station raided Shashi’s apartment and found some banned literature in his possession. I am applying leave today, madam. I have to make arrangements to get Shashi released on bail.
‘Okay’ said Parvathi while hanging up.
Bhaskar must have approached his brother. One single letter…. What is this?… How did it all happen? …. Nothing did he ask her. He was not at all pained to suspect his wife. Did the person who had been living with him for many years not have as much value as that paper? The mere thought that somebody set his eyes on a thing that belonged to him, a thing on which he alone had every right, should drive him to take this extreme step? Infact who is she? She is not an individual by name Parvathi. She is just a doll bought by Bhaskar. She is a doll, which cooks food and gives him sexual pleasure when he turns the key on. She had never felt so miserable earlier even though her life was like a desert without any pleasures or friendly talk! She accommodated herself in it as naturally as one breathes. Her life, where she never left any room for the questions like ‘Why? What?’, itself became a question mark now.
Parvathi’s head was reeling. Why did Bhaskar go to that extent? He must have gone to his brother and poured out his woes. Immediately his brother must have got up, put on his uniform and taken Shashi into custody in the name of a raid. There is no wonder even if they had by now beaten Shashi black and blue in the name of interrogation. A police officer and an academic … in the opinion of both of them Parvathi is a woman who can easily make mistakes.
It was nothing but the headstrongness of these people who think that they can keep the power of decision-making in their own hands. How cruel!
Parvathi shivered from head to toe. She is an officer who can command fifty other officers with a mere signal from her eyes. She fell on her back helplessly with one slap. Tears welled in her eyes for the humiliation she suffered. Suddenly with a bang, the door was opened. There stood Bhaskar like an embodiment of fury.
‘What? … Are you feeling sorry for your paramour? Even your father cannot free him from jail. Within minutes my brother took action on him. If I don’t see his end…’ Bhaskar challenged.
‘You are mistaken… Actually…’
Before Parvathi could complete the sentence he pounced on her.
‘What…. So what if I am mistaken? Will you people kill me? Do you elope with him? …’ Listening to Bhaskar’s curses and abuses she leaned on to the wall. One does not expect to hear such strong language from Bhaskar whose command over the language is excellent as if he is a dear son of Goddess Saraswathi; and who spends all his time in the company of books. Bhaskar went on threatening her. He said that he had worked hard every minute and converted his blood into money to give every comfort to Parvathi. He made it very clear that he would teach Parvathi, who was highly arrogant, a lesson and declared that Shashi’s life would end in the prison itself. Until the doorbell rang Parvathi had to put up with all his outbursts of anger.
Mr. Sambamurthi, the manager, had come.
As he entered – for a second he was horrified to see the house with things strewn all over it and to find Parvathi sitting there as an embodiment of sorrow. But immediately he remembered his duty. He came to see Bhaskar.
As Bhaskar’s elder brother was dealing with the case he came to seek Bhaskar’s help in influencing him to free Shashi. It seemed that he did not know the truth.
“Mr. Bhaskar, Shashi is a gentleman…. He keeps to himself and doesn’t meddle with anybody’s affairs. He does his work in the office very sincerely…. He has the passion to write poetry but he does not have the courage to hide any banned literature..... He is a very simple man..."
Sambhamurthi went on and on. Bhaskar was sitting in the sofa with his face as hard as a rock.
“If Mr. Bhaskar puts a word they will grant him bail Mrs. Parvathi” – he said to her too.
As any gentleman would, Sambamurthi was feeling sorry that he had come at an odd time when the husband and wife seemed to have been fighting over something.
Inspite of all that agony, Parvathi could understand that though Mr. Sambhamurti was requesting Bhaskar to help him, as the head of the department she alone had the possibility of helping Shashi… Look at these men! For them a woman is a woman even if she is an officer. They think that a woman is of no use in such serious matters, as if these are the sort of things only men are capable of handling…… Parvathi came to a decision.
“Mr. Sambhamurti, you proceed to the office. I’ll try to get bail for Shashi. We will inform the head office and see what we can do.”
Sambhamurti realised the powers that Parvathi had, rather late. He offered an explanation timidly…
“You know…. I thought why should we involve the office in this matter…. anyway it was only Mr. Bhaskar’s elder brother ….. One word from him…”
“You make a move first. Take two of our UDCs for signing the register over there. I have told the cashier. Take ten thousand rupees. I am coming. You go first.” The officer in Parvathi awakened.
After Sambhamurti’s departure, there started the war behind the closed doors.
“You read the letter fully and then speak. Tell me if I am responsible for it….” Bhaskar’s reply to this was another four blows to Parvathi.
Bhaskar boasted that it was the last scene of the drama she enacted making him a fool and he had given it an end with a great twist and he was not going to allow her to live in peace and he would make her live the rest of her life wailing.
Parvathi did not get tears. Her mind was becoming insensitive, what with the rain of blows and all the abuses, which she never heard before. How to overcome the problem? What would happen to Shashi’s life once he entered the police records, booked in such cases? She was hurt that even after long years of married life there was room neither for friendship nor any trust. After many hours of deliberation she got up and took her bath. She made a trunk call to her brother Ravi in the very presence of Bhaskar. She asked him to come immediately as things were not all right at this place. When she was leaving Bhaskar yelled at her:
“Go!…. Shameless creature!….. You have no shame to have an affair…”
Ignoring him Parvathi walked out. For four days after that, she was too busy even to breathe. Ravi arrived the same day by evening. He and Bhaskar discussed the matter for hours together. Bhaskar swore that he would see the end of Parvathi for betraying him.
“What is this Parvathi? What have you done to yourself! I never thought that I would be discussing these things with you one day. How insulting Bhaskar’s remarks were! You heard him, didn’t you?….. But still he can’t be blamed…” said Ravi.
Parvathi did’t say anything. She remained silent as she could clearly see how the position of woman remained frozen at the same place where it had begun. Bhaskar gave wide publicity to the matter intentionally. Now she is a shameless woman in everybody’s eyes. She is a nasty woman who has an affair with somebody. Without thinking of anything, keeping her lips tight, Parvathi hurriedly finished all the work. Shashi was released on bail somehow, though the matter all most went up to CBCID. He was beaten black and blue in the jail. Ravi looked embarrassed when he went to the lawyer and to the police station. Only one thing he went on saying repeatedly. Parvathi used to be very modest when she was young. In his opinion, the younger Parvathi was good and well behaved. What is she now? She felt like roaring. What did she lose now afresh? It was only the cage that she thought until now she had. What she really lost was the bonds of slavery.
“Okay then. I’ll leave. You are a person who knows everything. The matter has crossed the threshold and reached the hostel. Anyway, keep calling…” said Ravi while packing his suitcase.
That was all. It meant that he wanted her not to visit his place. Parvathi was silent. She was used to live alone without speaking to anybody or making any noise. Ravi had left. She bought a few things that she required in the market and returned to the hostel.
The warden told her that she had a guest.
Shashi was sitting in the visitor’s room. He was taken aback when he found Parvathi pale and run down.
He said, ‘I will apply for transfer as early as possible.’
Parvathi looked at him with surprise. Shashi smiled.
He added hastily, “There is no problem. If I don’t get transferred I will resign.’
Parvathi asked him softly ‘Why?’
‘What is this Parvathi? It’s my responsibility’ – he said emotionally.
Parvathi became furious. ‘Don’t call me with singular Mr. Shashi. I’m not a responsibility to anyone.’ Shashi’s face turned pale.
‘Sorry madam. I’m responsible for the catastrophe in your life. If I don’t take any responsibility who else will’ said Shashi.
Parvathi laughed.
‘What are you thinking Mr. Shashi? It was an accident. That’s all. I met with an accident. Just like how one loses an eye or a limb, I have lost the opportunity to live in the world that belonged to me. That’s all. Mr. Shashi, I can understand you. Your affection, your emotions – all that is something purely your personal. It is the make-believe world you have created yourself. How can I enter that world? I have a share in neither your thoughts nor your dreams. In fact I have never thought that way about you. This matter can be considered only if I feel that I can’t live without that person. So, in a way I’m grateful to you. You have given me an opportunity to enter a divine world of which I did not know anything earlier. Believe me, I am entering that world on my own free-will. Bhaskar, who hurt both my body and soul, did me a favour too. I have now realilsed that I am an individual, “ said Parvathi.
‘What is that divine world you talked about madam?’ asked Shashi.
Parvathi smiled.
‘Oh, that one – ‘freedom’….’
Looking at Parvathi who was smiling, Shashi folded his hands. Through the window in the east a naughty breeze entered the room and caressed Parvathi’s tresses.
- - - - - - -
Translated from Telugu by Dr. Haribandi Lakshmi, EFL University
It was raining cats and dogs when the office was closed for the day. I was standing in the canteen, sipping tea and wondering whether I would be able to catch the bus. At that moment Sundarama appeared there and proposed to me. I only felt the blood suddenly rush into my face but nothing more.
‘You too want it, don’t you?’ he asked.
He wanted to reassure himself. What would I say? I just nodded my head. He blushed. Wiping the water trickling down his eyes with a handkerchief he said, ‘Okay then! We will meet again.’ Waving his hand he disappeared in the rain. I stood there rooted to the spot.
The way he rushed out without even bothering to ask me, ‘how do you go?’ really irritated me. But there was little that I could do about it. There was no use getting angry with him, as I knew his nature very well. I thought of enjoying myself for sometime by indulging in an imaginary poetic and romantic excursion with Sundaram.
…Down pour …….. solitude …..then enters Sundaram …… I couldn’t think any further. Can you ever be lonely? Is there any chance for fantasy? The cook in the canteen was shouting at the top of his voice at his assistant.
“I won’t go in the rain to fetch the tumblers” said the boy.
‘If you don’t go I will thrash you to death’ shouted the cook angrily.
It was against this background that I heard Sundaram’s proposal. Unmindful of the happenings around me, I wanted to imagine a romantic scene with Sundaram while sipping a cup of hot tea. But no avail….. My attention was drawn again and again to the unclean canteen and the teacups piled up in the sink…. No use….. Then it became clear that I was no poetic genius. For a second, I toyed with the idea of flying on the wings of fantasy while walking in the rain, revealing my slender silver anklets. But my ironed saree would get crumpled. Quite a lot of money was spent every month on ironing alone. With a deep sigh I put an end to the action part and came to reality, only to be stared by a host of problems.
‘Next month we’ll shift to a place of our own Vijaya’ said Sundaram.
It was much better. He proposed to me in a better way than the routine, ‘will you marry me?’ But I didn’t know where to shift? Sundaram was living in a single room somewhere at the other end of the world. On tope of it, there were two other bachelors sharing the room with him. So our living there was out of the question. We had to rent a house. It would be very convenient if it was close to the office. But rents were very high in that area as it was a posh colony. First of all my room in the working women’s hostel was to be vacated. I didn’t know cooking. I only knew how to eat if mother or a cook did it for me. After marrying Sundaram I would have to get up early in the morning to cook food for both of us and to attend to all other domestic chores……. Again my thoughts had gone astray. When I was happily getting married to Sundaram why think of all those damn things….. Chii! Chii! Were these the so-called sweet dreams? He and I merrily becoming flowers among flowers…….
By the way, after working hard in the office the whole day would it be possible for me to have any energy left for outings or even to chat with him in the everning? I was not sure! For a while I was angry with myself. When Sundaram proposed to me after three long years of friendship was I in a position to translate my happiness into sweet dreams?
I could hardly suppress my laughter when I recalled how Sundaram proposed to me. The way he looked at me and called me in a soft voice, contrary to his usual commanding tone, as his hands were trembling slightly due to nervousness, made me burst out laughing. Then brushing aside all thoughts I paid attention to the shining raindrops, the fluttering of the soft leaves as the rain drops fall on them and the drops of water slipping down from the leaves. But the same anxiety started pricking me again.
Couldn’t I be romantic? Couldn’t I experience the love within myself? Was this experience to be so dull and dry?
One thing I could surely tell you. I was thinking more of the daily chores at home than the pleasant moments and was naturally terrified.
A month passed by quickly. Many things happened in a jiffy – finding a house and the arrival of the happy parents, both his and mine. I was more confused by the comments made by the guests. At lunch they said, ‘the salaries of these two in this town would just be enough to pay the rent and make both ends meet’. Long after we came out of the registrar’s office, our friends and relatives went their ways leaving Sundaram and me alone in the new house.
‘Vijaya, how do you find this house?’ asked Sundaram.
I felt like saying ‘wonderful, excellent’ running around the room but I couldn’t because every inch of space in the room was occupied by all sorts of bags and boxes. There were several odd things – buckets, mats and pillows brought from Sundaram’s room, cardboard boxes brought from my hostel room and the kitchenware we both bought together. I killed my desire to run around and asked Sundaram disinterestedly ‘are we going to unpack these things now?’
‘No, no, let’s leave them as they are. We can do that later…. later’ replied Sundaram hastily.
There were only two rooms – a tiny kitchen and a small bed room. How could it be done later? Reluctantly we started the work. All the things were pushed to the walls and the room was swept clean. When we were about to settle down we realised suddenly that there were no bulbs in the house and the fan too was to be fixed. Cursing ourselves we opened a box and took out the different parts of a fan. An electrician was called to install the fan and the bulbs too were bought. At last we had lights and a fan in the house. Fortunately at that moment we realilsed that we were already feeling hungry and we should get our dinner from a restaurant. We bought plenty of food to eat that night and discussed at length the difference between the restaurant food and the canteen food and the price variation. Life afterwards flew on the wings of the wind. Why not with the sort of things – not going to bed until very late at night, getting up very late in the morning and rushing to office with no time to make even a cup of coffee, leave alone cooking food….. Time flies, doesn’t it?
Friends used to drop in at all times. Sundaram and I used to chat with them vying with each other. But when it came to the question of who would make tea or who would clean the cups we used to fight with each other so much that there were several occasions when we even thought of taking a divorce. We would find every new book that came to the market wonderful and would buy it though it meant going without vegetables for a few days.
As life was going on in full swing with occasional quarrelling over trivial matters I fell ill one day. With giddiness and head reeling I just couldn’t get up. Sundaram got scared and immediately rushed me to a hospital. At the hospital on noticing Sundaram’s grim face the lady doctor told him, ‘it’s no ailment gentleman, no medicines are required for this. Vijaya is going to give birth to a beautiful baby’. At once Sundaram’s face lit up. Later when we were waiting at the bus stop, looking at the crowded buses going fast without stopping Sundaram asked me, ‘shall we take an auto?’
Both of us thought of the salary we would be getting only after three days.
Looking into my face fondly Sundaram asked, ‘how do you feel about it Vijaya?’
What could I say? Due to giddiness it was all dark before my eyes. If morning sickness starts making me weak how would I cope with the office work? If I were to go on leave on loss of pay how would we manage? All these thoughts crowded my mind and disturbed me when I learnt that I was going to have a baby. I wondered whether they were the sort of things one dreams about while expecting a baby.
How come life is so bitter! When I made this remark, Sundaram cut an insipid joke, ‘that is precisely the reason why they say the pregnant women should eat something sour.’
Believe me then onwards the time moved slowly at a snail’s pace. I used to get exhausted with the office work alone. Poor Sundaram, he had to do all the work at home besides putting up with my sighs. Somehow we pulled on! I had to go for scanning as the doctor said it was necessary to know the baby’s position and health.
When you knew that it was going to be a girl and the precise date and time of the baby’s arrival what was left to look forward to? The time rolled by mechanically without any colourful dreams.
When I was about to apply for maternity leave, two holidays – the usual weekly off and a festival holiday came in a succession. I decided to go to office one more day with the apprehension that unless I worked for a day after those two days, they too would get included in my period of leave. That day though I was sick and the doctor said I might go into labour any moment I went to office only to save those two days of leave. I signed the register with an unnatural smile on my face and went about my work. Suddenly I started sweating profusely. The labour pains soon followed. What a terrible plight just to save two days of leave! I didn’t know for certain how I took permission and in what language I expressed my pain, but eventually I got myself admitted in the hospital.
‘Do you have any sense left in your head? How could you go to office when you were almost in labour?’ The doctor went on scolding me. While listening to her I gave birth to a baby.
Sundaram and I discussed for hours together several different things – the baby’s features, the hospital bill, the list of things that are to be bought immediately and the other expenses to be incurred. Sundaram’s mother had come from the village to help us and stayed with us for quite some time. She voluntarily took the entire responsibility of looking after the baby and the daily chores at home too on her shoulders. I started going to work when the leave was over. There in the office I would feel like suckling the baby every two hours. I used to get tormented when I think of the baby’s tiny fingers and the lips that impatiently try to reach the nipples. I would get depressed by the end of the day. When I reached home in the evening my mother-in-law would give me something hot to eat. Sundaram and I played with the baby making more noise than the kids do.
Slowly we ceased to find any pleasure in that. It was just one single room with four persons occupying it – Sundaram, his mother, the baby and I. And what more, the door opens right on to the street. Sundaram and I had no privacy even for five minutes. Poor thing, my mother-in-law could understand our plight. But there was no solution in sight for the problem.
In the evening after returning from office Sundaram would say with a deep sigh, ‘Life has become barren Vijaya!’
What would I say? ….. Whether you said it or not it was the problem. If his mother were to go back to the village who would look after the baby? How long can we live like this in this tiny congested house? How long can fathers-in-law live alone in the village? Life has always been a puzzle for us.
Mother-in-law came out with a proposal, ‘shall I take the baby with me?’
I was startled. How can I send the baby with her? The baby who was barely five months old started recognizing me and would jump into my arms. I would love to see her grow up.
After retiring as a teacher father-in-law was forced to give tuition to make both ends meet. My mother, who was asthmatic, had great difficulty in breathing and was reduced to her bones. With my father’s meager earnings my parental home was always poverty-stricken. To top it all my own scanty dwelling here in the town! If at all I had anything precious in my life it was only the baby and, of course Sundaram.
We depended solely on our salary, which was weighed meticulously against the amount of work we did. Anything that would cost money was simply not within our reach. Right from birth we learnt to live only with one mantra – compromising with ourselves.
What was to be given utmost priority under the circumstances? – Keeping the baby with us or the privacy Sundaram and I would get or the money that we would be saving if the child was sent along with its grandma. The very thought of sending the baby away made me cry inconsolably. Both of them, the mother who gave birth to Sundaram and the baby I gave birth to, became a burden to us. Next morning my mother-in-law packed her own bag and the baby’s kit. I started sobing.
‘Don’t worry! I’ll take good care of the baby. The cost of living in villages is not as high as it is in towns’, she said rather consolingly.
I remained silent but nothing could stop the tears rolling down my cheeks. I alone knew why I cried. Sundaram and I went to the bus station to put them in a bus and see them off. The sight of the baby being taken away from me left a deep wound in my heart. After they left, the whole house became empty. There was plenty of privacy, more than what was needed for Sundaram and me. On returning home from office, lying on his back on a mat Sundaram said after a deep thought.
‘Life has become a terrible void Vijaya!’
I knew it too what that void was and why. Only thing was I didn’t know how to fill that void.
- - - - - - -
It was raining cats and dogs when the office was closed for the day. I was standing in the canteen, sipping tea and wondering whether I would be able to catch the bus. At that moment Sundarama appeared there and proposed to me. I only felt the blood suddenly rush into my face but nothing more.
‘You too want it, don’t you?’ he asked.
He wanted to reassure himself. What would I say? I just nodded my head. He blushed. Wiping the water trickling down his eyes with a handkerchief he said, ‘Okay then! We will meet again.’ Waving his hand he disappeared in the rain. I stood there rooted to the spot.
The way he rushed out without even bothering to ask me, ‘how do you go?’ really irritated me. But there was little that I could do about it. There was no use getting angry with him, as I knew his nature very well. I thought of enjoying myself for sometime by indulging in an imaginary poetic and romantic excursion with Sundaram.
…Down pour …….. solitude …..then enters Sundaram …… I couldn’t think any further. Can you ever be lonely? Is there any chance for fantasy? The cook in the canteen was shouting at the top of his voice at his assistant.
“I won’t go in the rain to fetch the tumblers” said the boy.
‘If you don’t go I will thrash you to death’ shouted the cook angrily.
It was against this background that I heard Sundaram’s proposal. Unmindful of the happenings around me, I wanted to imagine a romantic scene with Sundaram while sipping a cup of hot tea. But no avail….. My attention was drawn again and again to the unclean canteen and the teacups piled up in the sink…. No use….. Then it became clear that I was no poetic genius. For a second, I toyed with the idea of flying on the wings of fantasy while walking in the rain, revealing my slender silver anklets. But my ironed saree would get crumpled. Quite a lot of money was spent every month on ironing alone. With a deep sigh I put an end to the action part and came to reality, only to be stared by a host of problems.
‘Next month we’ll shift to a place of our own Vijaya’ said Sundaram.
It was much better. He proposed to me in a better way than the routine, ‘will you marry me?’ But I didn’t know where to shift? Sundaram was living in a single room somewhere at the other end of the world. On tope of it, there were two other bachelors sharing the room with him. So our living there was out of the question. We had to rent a house. It would be very convenient if it was close to the office. But rents were very high in that area as it was a posh colony. First of all my room in the working women’s hostel was to be vacated. I didn’t know cooking. I only knew how to eat if mother or a cook did it for me. After marrying Sundaram I would have to get up early in the morning to cook food for both of us and to attend to all other domestic chores……. Again my thoughts had gone astray. When I was happily getting married to Sundaram why think of all those damn things….. Chii! Chii! Were these the so-called sweet dreams? He and I merrily becoming flowers among flowers…….
By the way, after working hard in the office the whole day would it be possible for me to have any energy left for outings or even to chat with him in the everning? I was not sure! For a while I was angry with myself. When Sundaram proposed to me after three long years of friendship was I in a position to translate my happiness into sweet dreams?
I could hardly suppress my laughter when I recalled how Sundaram proposed to me. The way he looked at me and called me in a soft voice, contrary to his usual commanding tone, as his hands were trembling slightly due to nervousness, made me burst out laughing. Then brushing aside all thoughts I paid attention to the shining raindrops, the fluttering of the soft leaves as the rain drops fall on them and the drops of water slipping down from the leaves. But the same anxiety started pricking me again.
Couldn’t I be romantic? Couldn’t I experience the love within myself? Was this experience to be so dull and dry?
One thing I could surely tell you. I was thinking more of the daily chores at home than the pleasant moments and was naturally terrified.
A month passed by quickly. Many things happened in a jiffy – finding a house and the arrival of the happy parents, both his and mine. I was more confused by the comments made by the guests. At lunch they said, ‘the salaries of these two in this town would just be enough to pay the rent and make both ends meet’. Long after we came out of the registrar’s office, our friends and relatives went their ways leaving Sundaram and me alone in the new house.
‘Vijaya, how do you find this house?’ asked Sundaram.
I felt like saying ‘wonderful, excellent’ running around the room but I couldn’t because every inch of space in the room was occupied by all sorts of bags and boxes. There were several odd things – buckets, mats and pillows brought from Sundaram’s room, cardboard boxes brought from my hostel room and the kitchenware we both bought together. I killed my desire to run around and asked Sundaram disinterestedly ‘are we going to unpack these things now?’
‘No, no, let’s leave them as they are. We can do that later…. later’ replied Sundaram hastily.
There were only two rooms – a tiny kitchen and a small bed room. How could it be done later? Reluctantly we started the work. All the things were pushed to the walls and the room was swept clean. When we were about to settle down we realised suddenly that there were no bulbs in the house and the fan too was to be fixed. Cursing ourselves we opened a box and took out the different parts of a fan. An electrician was called to install the fan and the bulbs too were bought. At last we had lights and a fan in the house. Fortunately at that moment we realilsed that we were already feeling hungry and we should get our dinner from a restaurant. We bought plenty of food to eat that night and discussed at length the difference between the restaurant food and the canteen food and the price variation. Life afterwards flew on the wings of the wind. Why not with the sort of things – not going to bed until very late at night, getting up very late in the morning and rushing to office with no time to make even a cup of coffee, leave alone cooking food….. Time flies, doesn’t it?
Friends used to drop in at all times. Sundaram and I used to chat with them vying with each other. But when it came to the question of who would make tea or who would clean the cups we used to fight with each other so much that there were several occasions when we even thought of taking a divorce. We would find every new book that came to the market wonderful and would buy it though it meant going without vegetables for a few days.
As life was going on in full swing with occasional quarrelling over trivial matters I fell ill one day. With giddiness and head reeling I just couldn’t get up. Sundaram got scared and immediately rushed me to a hospital. At the hospital on noticing Sundaram’s grim face the lady doctor told him, ‘it’s no ailment gentleman, no medicines are required for this. Vijaya is going to give birth to a beautiful baby’. At once Sundaram’s face lit up. Later when we were waiting at the bus stop, looking at the crowded buses going fast without stopping Sundaram asked me, ‘shall we take an auto?’
Both of us thought of the salary we would be getting only after three days.
Looking into my face fondly Sundaram asked, ‘how do you feel about it Vijaya?’
What could I say? Due to giddiness it was all dark before my eyes. If morning sickness starts making me weak how would I cope with the office work? If I were to go on leave on loss of pay how would we manage? All these thoughts crowded my mind and disturbed me when I learnt that I was going to have a baby. I wondered whether they were the sort of things one dreams about while expecting a baby.
How come life is so bitter! When I made this remark, Sundaram cut an insipid joke, ‘that is precisely the reason why they say the pregnant women should eat something sour.’
Believe me then onwards the time moved slowly at a snail’s pace. I used to get exhausted with the office work alone. Poor Sundaram, he had to do all the work at home besides putting up with my sighs. Somehow we pulled on! I had to go for scanning as the doctor said it was necessary to know the baby’s position and health.
When you knew that it was going to be a girl and the precise date and time of the baby’s arrival what was left to look forward to? The time rolled by mechanically without any colourful dreams.
When I was about to apply for maternity leave, two holidays – the usual weekly off and a festival holiday came in a succession. I decided to go to office one more day with the apprehension that unless I worked for a day after those two days, they too would get included in my period of leave. That day though I was sick and the doctor said I might go into labour any moment I went to office only to save those two days of leave. I signed the register with an unnatural smile on my face and went about my work. Suddenly I started sweating profusely. The labour pains soon followed. What a terrible plight just to save two days of leave! I didn’t know for certain how I took permission and in what language I expressed my pain, but eventually I got myself admitted in the hospital.
‘Do you have any sense left in your head? How could you go to office when you were almost in labour?’ The doctor went on scolding me. While listening to her I gave birth to a baby.
Sundaram and I discussed for hours together several different things – the baby’s features, the hospital bill, the list of things that are to be bought immediately and the other expenses to be incurred. Sundaram’s mother had come from the village to help us and stayed with us for quite some time. She voluntarily took the entire responsibility of looking after the baby and the daily chores at home too on her shoulders. I started going to work when the leave was over. There in the office I would feel like suckling the baby every two hours. I used to get tormented when I think of the baby’s tiny fingers and the lips that impatiently try to reach the nipples. I would get depressed by the end of the day. When I reached home in the evening my mother-in-law would give me something hot to eat. Sundaram and I played with the baby making more noise than the kids do.
Slowly we ceased to find any pleasure in that. It was just one single room with four persons occupying it – Sundaram, his mother, the baby and I. And what more, the door opens right on to the street. Sundaram and I had no privacy even for five minutes. Poor thing, my mother-in-law could understand our plight. But there was no solution in sight for the problem.
In the evening after returning from office Sundaram would say with a deep sigh, ‘Life has become barren Vijaya!’
What would I say? ….. Whether you said it or not it was the problem. If his mother were to go back to the village who would look after the baby? How long can we live like this in this tiny congested house? How long can fathers-in-law live alone in the village? Life has always been a puzzle for us.
Mother-in-law came out with a proposal, ‘shall I take the baby with me?’
I was startled. How can I send the baby with her? The baby who was barely five months old started recognizing me and would jump into my arms. I would love to see her grow up.
After retiring as a teacher father-in-law was forced to give tuition to make both ends meet. My mother, who was asthmatic, had great difficulty in breathing and was reduced to her bones. With my father’s meager earnings my parental home was always poverty-stricken. To top it all my own scanty dwelling here in the town! If at all I had anything precious in my life it was only the baby and, of course Sundaram.
We depended solely on our salary, which was weighed meticulously against the amount of work we did. Anything that would cost money was simply not within our reach. Right from birth we learnt to live only with one mantra – compromising with ourselves.
What was to be given utmost priority under the circumstances? – Keeping the baby with us or the privacy Sundaram and I would get or the money that we would be saving if the child was sent along with its grandma. The very thought of sending the baby away made me cry inconsolably. Both of them, the mother who gave birth to Sundaram and the baby I gave birth to, became a burden to us. Next morning my mother-in-law packed her own bag and the baby’s kit. I started sobing.
‘Don’t worry! I’ll take good care of the baby. The cost of living in villages is not as high as it is in towns’, she said rather consolingly.
I remained silent but nothing could stop the tears rolling down my cheeks. I alone knew why I cried. Sundaram and I went to the bus station to put them in a bus and see them off. The sight of the baby being taken away from me left a deep wound in my heart. After they left, the whole house became empty. There was plenty of privacy, more than what was needed for Sundaram and me. On returning home from office, lying on his back on a mat Sundaram said after a deep thought.
‘Life has become a terrible void Vijaya!’
I knew it too what that void was and why. Only thing was I didn’t know how to fill that void.
- - - - - - -
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Translated from Telugu by Dr. Haribandi Lakshmi, EFL University
”Chinnatalli…. Come here… Do you want a new mother or this old mother?”
Chinnatalli looked up at her mother who was serving her idlies.
We don’t know what she witnessed in the large eyes of her mother which were like waterpools, she said moving her eyes to the right and the left “I want the old mother”.
Rao laughed aloud.
“Okay, sanctioned. Your daughter has voted for you dear. Your job is permanent”.
Janaki laughed. The house was full of laughter. Chinnatalli, waving her umbrella frock, was walking with slow steps….. There was a mild happy smile on the lips of Amrutam who was in the kitchen arranging the pots and pans on the shelf….. Janaki stopped laughing abruptly as though it was cut by some one.
Muttering “I will get milk for the baby” Janaki went into the kitchen. There she had four walls, which were her own. Rao never seemed to have entered that room. He would at the most come up to the door and ask, “Jani! Can you give me a cup of coffee?” Once in there Janaki could breathe again. When she looked at the pots and pans, the tins, the sugar bowl, the spoons, the water boiling on the stove, as though she regained her energy, she started tidying them away. Though her hands were working her mind was still thinking.
Why did she not condemn it? Where does her weakness lie? Though it was said for fun she had a feeling that some delicate bond somewhere was getting severed. She didn’t know from where she got the patience to stand such things. As usual she opened the upper cupboard and brought down the file. It was a file that contained all bills and papers related to the house management. On top of them there was Janaki’s certificate of M.A. Home Science (Catering Technology) with gold letters. She touched it lovingly. ‘Janaki!’…..There was a call from the dining hall.
“Coming!”
It was quite a surprise to Janaaki how she could regain her usual temper when she went to the hall, carrying the tray with milk to the child.
After half-an-hour the house was silent. A cycle-rickshaw from the cretche had come to pick up the child. And for Rao, a car from his office had come. While leaving for office Rao assigned many duties to her. She should chi-chat with Gita Mukherjee for half-an-hour. She should invite her home to dinner as he needs her help. The intention was to make friends with her so that Rao would easily get the deposits from her company. If Raman called up she should try to get ride of him politely. He was of no use at all. He was only a gossip. There was a small function at Rao’s M.D's place. Since Janaki's taste was good she should get a gift for them which would be cheap and the best. These were the usual things that Janaki did everyday.
Amrutam kept the house spick and span always.
“Do you want a new mother or the old mother?”
“My typist is mad after me”….
“No use dear. You are getting old. I have to look for another woman”.
“Jani doesn’t have any company….. She is not able to stay alone whenever I go on a tour. Immediately I have to look for a girl.”
These were the sort of jokes that Rao would crack among his fiends or in the bedroom or drawing room. Janaki had been listening to such jokes, which would determine the status of a woman. She was deeply hurt by them.
“Your job is permanent”….
How does she take it? Does she take it lightly or seriously? If it were like an employment how nice it would have been! Unfortunately it was not. She didn’t know why she decided not to work. Her father hurried her up. When he got acquainted with Rao he was overjoyed. He thought that Rao was very intelligent and was capable of climbing up the social ladder rapidly. He was proved right. But when she helped him by copying notes, making tea, serving him dutifully and keeping everything at home to suit his convenience, he got the post of the officer. And she, in turn, with his kindness, got the life of a housewife with every comfort. Rao gets a car from his office. Many executives come to meet him. A large office is under his control. For doing all this he gets money. It would be fair to say that he earns with both hands. What about her? She has an entry in neither his personal life nor money. Everything – money, house, her life – is under his control. If she wants to go shopping, she has to ask him the previous night with all her love. Rao has to be satisfied. Until Rao asks her caressing her hair, ‘Do you want to go for shopping tomorrow Jani?’ The drama has to continue. In case she needs money for anything else she has to inform him and only when he feels that it is a good cause she gets the money. With one sentence like ‘why, it’s a waste Jani’ all her rehearsal goes a waste. She gets permission to buy anything until it helps her to keep up with the officer status of Rao.
Is she not an employee in this house? Doesn’t she deserve wages for all the donkey’s work that she does? Is it not possible for her to think and take decisions independently like Rao does?
She too has friends. She too speaks to them, but not in the same fashion as Rao does.
Rao orders them.
“O.K. Fix it for tomorrow. Let there be ganabajana (live music) all night. Send for Ravi. Unless we listen to his songs we will not get any pleasure. By the way, catch hold of that fellow, Sharma. Without his jokes it cann’t be a party….”.
She too tells her friends - “Tomorrow? I will let you know in the evening. When Rao comes home, you know…… No, no, I think I can come tomorrow……there is no specific work as such….. I will just inform Rao and …… that’t not a problem ….. Amrutam will pack his lunch ….. After informing Rao……”.
Rao need not control her particularly. Her thoughts of him always control her.
Sometimes she feels that there is hardly any difference between Amrutam and herself. Amrutam and she share the household work. But she needs her permission to eat even a mouthful of rice. If Amrutam wants to give a fruit to her three-year-old son she has to be at her mercy. It is just like the way she pleases Rao to get her things done, Amrutam too pleases her by serving her, by ironing her sarees and by tidying the house much more neatly.
Janaki walked up and down restlessly. In a way Amrutam’s plight is better than hers. When she gets her salary she attends to a few personal matters. She has her own tiny plan as far as her hut is concerned. But in her case, she doesn’t have the power….can she say that ….Okay, she can say that she doesn’t have that possibility. She only nods her head in agreement whatever Rao says.
The phone was ringing. Amrutam picked it up…..”Okay sir. I will fry eggs sir ….. Yes sir…. No sir, it is an hour’s job …. Sir….. It is all right sir …… I can do it. Madam is in the veranda. Shall I call her sir? … Sir …..Sir….”.
Janaki sat down in the sofa. Amrutam calls him sir whereas she would say “….Yes ….okay …… It doesn’t take long ….. It’ll be done in half-an-hour…..”.
For one hour both the ladies would slog in the kitchen and when everything was almost finished, she would go and hurriedly take a bath. She would wear a good saree and get dressed up too well to cover up all her tiredness. Rao would get down from the car majestically along with his friends. Then in the drawing room there would be an outburst of laughter. Spoons and plates would clatter. She would serve them food smiling beautifully. The party would come to a climax with dirty jokes and comments up to a limit. She would get up and walk away with a smile as if she didn’t hear anything. Did she every say, “Don’t ever indulge in dirty talk about women”. Amrutam, in the meanwhile would get exhausted by supplying more and more dishes and by washing them. After what would scam to be an eternity… when the party came to an end, Rao while stretching his hands would say ‘I am tired dear’ and enter the bed room with heavy steps and stretch himself out on the bed. At times he would go overboard and would call her ‘come here dear’ and would get ready to have sex with her with that horrid smelling body. But all this never troubled her …. No…. She made herself rather believe that way. ‘Does comfort or convenience kill the power of thought of a person in this manner?’
‘Madam, we ran out of tea powder. Shall I go and get it?’ asked Amrutam.
Janaki nodded her permission mechanically. Amrutam went out of the gate. Amrutam’s three-year old son was playing in the garden. He would always keep on talking all by himself. He was standing by the compound wall opposite Janaki and was arranging on the wall the colourful stones he had in his hand in a row. When he noticed his mother going out he stretched his hands in her direction and was about to cry. But he did not when he saw that she had already left. When he saw that Janaki was looking at him he showed her the stones he had in his hand and wanted to give them to her. Janaki smiled. She shook her head to tell him that she did not want them. The stones he was arranging on the wall were slipping and falling down as the wall was very smooth. He had an endless patience. He was bending on his knees, picking them up and arranging them again and again.
‘Janaki madam…. Amrutam is dead…’ Standing outside the gate screamed the shopkeeper who owned a small shop down the lane. Janaki got up with a startle and ran out. People were crowded at the end of the lane. It was said that when Amrutam was crossing the road a car came without any honking and knocked her down. Amrutam, who had been working in the kitchen a few minutes ago, was lying dead on the road. Her skull was broken and the red blood was flowing on the road. Janaki could not control herself.
‘Can you give me Mr. Rao’s phone number?’ asked the shopkeeper. With eyes that became dim with tears Janaki was staring at Amrutam – ‘Amrutam who lived with her for six years; Amrutam who had high hopes for her son. When Rao scolded her once that her son was roaming freely all over the house and dirtying it and snatching away biscuits and toys from Chinnatalli’s hand, Amrutam lowered her head and remained silent. After that she never allowed her son to come beyond the front verandah. She would let him play in the garden and look after him with utmost care. It was her self-respect that her son should not be scolded by anyone. She had the caliber to budget her income carefully. She was too good that she never detested her husband for not looking after her. Though he was the one who would go quite frequently out of town for months together, she used to worry about him. Now her lifeless body lies here – ’ Janaki returned home with a heavy heart. Amrutam’s son was still arranging the stones in a row.
What would happen to this kid? How would his father, who never cared for them even when his mother was alive, look after him? Within ten minutes Rao arrived. Everything was arranged over the phone. What else, Rao was highly competent. By the evening Amrutam’s husband came. Standing across the verandah he spoke very softly to Rao who was sitting in a sofa. Rao gave him some money. While closing the door after he had left Rao noticed Amrutam’s son sleeping by the wall.
‘What is this? Why is he here?’
‘He did not recognise his father. He was scared when his father called him’ replied Janaki. It was true. He had seen only Rao and Rao’s friends who would resemble him. He was really taken a back when he saw his father. Amrutam was working until the day before his birth. When the labour pains started, taking the money given by Janaki, Amrutam went to the government hospital in a cycle-rickshaw all by herself. There she went on crying the whole night with pain without anyone to comfort her or to hold her hand with sympathy. In contrast, when Janaki was in labour her mother, mother-in-law, sister-in-law and other relatives were there with her. Amrutam took good care of Janaki. She would tremble whenever Janaki’s face was contorted with pain. When Chinnatalli was born she looked after her with great care. She would not have shown her own son a fraction of the affection she showed Chinnatalli. Everyone, including Rao had seen the little kid with his faltering steps walk behind his mother who was always busy attending to Chinnatalli. Amrutam used to get her hut redone whenever her husband returned from his long tours and would show all concern for him. But still she never left the household work to Janaki. She used to shuttle between her husband and Janaki’s kitchen. Rao had no knowledge about all this.
‘So, what do you want to say? Do you want to adapt him?’
- Why all this talk? It’s not even two hours since Amrutam died. Is this the time to talk about the kid? –
Rao, who was very resourceful, had sent his office attendant half-an-hour ago for a maid and got one already. She was there tidying up the house.
Janaki was not given a chance to speak. Rao told Janaki that she should maintain her dignity. He further said that he couldnot imagine his wife giving a bath and feeding the food to a maid’s son. He went back to the verandah and sent word to the shopkeeper. He was the one who brought Amritam to their house. He introduced her as a good woman whose husband was not in a position to provide for her as his earnings were not enough even to meet his own personal expenditure. Amrutam who had come that day departed now this way….
It seemed that the shopkeeper had already left closing the shop. Rao got up and while coming in gave her a strict warning – ‘Tomorrow morning this kid must leave this place for good’.
Janaki turned off the lights and sat on the floor by the wall in the same room where Amrutam’s son, Bangaru, was fast asleep. He looked tired. Had Amrutam been alive she would have given him a bath making him stand in the garden itself. She would have helped him to put on a clean shirt. She would have chatted with him to sleep. Today there was no such thing. As usual, he played in the garden as long as he could. When it was getting dark he came to the verandah where Chinnatalli was playing. He sat there with a thumb in the mouth. When Janaki had given him some rice mixed with a vegetable to eat, he looked for his mother in every direction. When he did not find her he ate a little by himself smearing it all over his body. Even then did she bother to get up and feed the food to him like how Amrutam would to Chinnatalli? No, nothing of that sort. She gave him a glass of milk thinking that he was not full. He had that milk and slept by the wall after tossing and turning for a long time. His mother’s disappearance did not disturb him much as she would always be busy with her work and would go to him only late at night.
Rao asked for water. He could as well go and get it himself. But she must go and get it for him however busy she was. It would seem that it was Janaki’s right to serve him. He noticed that Janaki was still awake thinking about Amrutam’s son.
‘How many things can I do? I got the body removed within an hour. You have taken upon yourself the responsibility of this kid. Your mind is rusting as it has no work’, he said.
The tumbler in Janaki’s hands was shaken a little.
That was the reward he gave for all her service and devotion.
Amrutam’s son rolled over while talking in his sleep. The blanket got displaced. His tiny tummy could be seen.
“He will play with Chinnatalli. How much food does he need?…. Why don’t you allow him to live with us….” Said Janaki.
Rao turned back.
“Have you gone mad? Don’t entertain such foolish thoughts. Keep shut and sleep….” he shouted at her.
Janaki realised that she had had no chance to say ‘no’ or ‘nothing doing’ to him. What was her role in that house? She understood at that moment that how her life had slipped out of her hands. She lulled her conscience into believing that education was for knowledge. Had she ever thought of standing on her own feet, economic independence and things like that? Perhaps she had deep within herself a parasitic instinct. Perhaps she was lazy by nature and wanted to live freely, without any need to work hard. Rao and she did not discuss the matter in order to take a decision. They both did not decide as to what should be done with the kid. Did she ever get a chance to suggest that how it would be if he was admitted in an orphanage. Just lilke Amrutam she listened to him. That was all. Her role was limited to that….. She started recollecting each day of her life during the past ten years. Hadn’t she seen how Rao had struggled for his career? Did she ever think of herself? Did she ever think that her education should be useful both to herself and the people around her? How she had degraded herself after entering this house as a wife?….. Did she prove that she was equal to Rao in every respect? She herself did not have a strong desire to have an independent life of her own. It was clear to Janaki what she had lost. There was nothing that she did. Even when Rao cracked jokes about other women she felt that she was great and large hearted. That was all. She laughed at herself. If only she had realised the importance of her degree certificates …… If only she remained equal to Rao in this house, she wouldn’t have an occasion to experience all the agony of the present. Janaki again looked at the kid who was fast asleep. He was lying there with his legs stretched freely. Couldn’t she do anything to the sleeping kid? Janaki smiled. At the moment, she too was in the same plight as that fellow. If only she could learn to walk slowly without falling down like him she would gradually pick up speed and run. In her very faltering steps he too would step. Who could stop anything once it gets underway?
-: o : -
”Chinnatalli…. Come here… Do you want a new mother or this old mother?”
Chinnatalli looked up at her mother who was serving her idlies.
We don’t know what she witnessed in the large eyes of her mother which were like waterpools, she said moving her eyes to the right and the left “I want the old mother”.
Rao laughed aloud.
“Okay, sanctioned. Your daughter has voted for you dear. Your job is permanent”.
Janaki laughed. The house was full of laughter. Chinnatalli, waving her umbrella frock, was walking with slow steps….. There was a mild happy smile on the lips of Amrutam who was in the kitchen arranging the pots and pans on the shelf….. Janaki stopped laughing abruptly as though it was cut by some one.
Muttering “I will get milk for the baby” Janaki went into the kitchen. There she had four walls, which were her own. Rao never seemed to have entered that room. He would at the most come up to the door and ask, “Jani! Can you give me a cup of coffee?” Once in there Janaki could breathe again. When she looked at the pots and pans, the tins, the sugar bowl, the spoons, the water boiling on the stove, as though she regained her energy, she started tidying them away. Though her hands were working her mind was still thinking.
Why did she not condemn it? Where does her weakness lie? Though it was said for fun she had a feeling that some delicate bond somewhere was getting severed. She didn’t know from where she got the patience to stand such things. As usual she opened the upper cupboard and brought down the file. It was a file that contained all bills and papers related to the house management. On top of them there was Janaki’s certificate of M.A. Home Science (Catering Technology) with gold letters. She touched it lovingly. ‘Janaki!’…..There was a call from the dining hall.
“Coming!”
It was quite a surprise to Janaaki how she could regain her usual temper when she went to the hall, carrying the tray with milk to the child.
After half-an-hour the house was silent. A cycle-rickshaw from the cretche had come to pick up the child. And for Rao, a car from his office had come. While leaving for office Rao assigned many duties to her. She should chi-chat with Gita Mukherjee for half-an-hour. She should invite her home to dinner as he needs her help. The intention was to make friends with her so that Rao would easily get the deposits from her company. If Raman called up she should try to get ride of him politely. He was of no use at all. He was only a gossip. There was a small function at Rao’s M.D's place. Since Janaki's taste was good she should get a gift for them which would be cheap and the best. These were the usual things that Janaki did everyday.
Amrutam kept the house spick and span always.
“Do you want a new mother or the old mother?”
“My typist is mad after me”….
“No use dear. You are getting old. I have to look for another woman”.
“Jani doesn’t have any company….. She is not able to stay alone whenever I go on a tour. Immediately I have to look for a girl.”
These were the sort of jokes that Rao would crack among his fiends or in the bedroom or drawing room. Janaki had been listening to such jokes, which would determine the status of a woman. She was deeply hurt by them.
“Your job is permanent”….
How does she take it? Does she take it lightly or seriously? If it were like an employment how nice it would have been! Unfortunately it was not. She didn’t know why she decided not to work. Her father hurried her up. When he got acquainted with Rao he was overjoyed. He thought that Rao was very intelligent and was capable of climbing up the social ladder rapidly. He was proved right. But when she helped him by copying notes, making tea, serving him dutifully and keeping everything at home to suit his convenience, he got the post of the officer. And she, in turn, with his kindness, got the life of a housewife with every comfort. Rao gets a car from his office. Many executives come to meet him. A large office is under his control. For doing all this he gets money. It would be fair to say that he earns with both hands. What about her? She has an entry in neither his personal life nor money. Everything – money, house, her life – is under his control. If she wants to go shopping, she has to ask him the previous night with all her love. Rao has to be satisfied. Until Rao asks her caressing her hair, ‘Do you want to go for shopping tomorrow Jani?’ The drama has to continue. In case she needs money for anything else she has to inform him and only when he feels that it is a good cause she gets the money. With one sentence like ‘why, it’s a waste Jani’ all her rehearsal goes a waste. She gets permission to buy anything until it helps her to keep up with the officer status of Rao.
Is she not an employee in this house? Doesn’t she deserve wages for all the donkey’s work that she does? Is it not possible for her to think and take decisions independently like Rao does?
She too has friends. She too speaks to them, but not in the same fashion as Rao does.
Rao orders them.
“O.K. Fix it for tomorrow. Let there be ganabajana (live music) all night. Send for Ravi. Unless we listen to his songs we will not get any pleasure. By the way, catch hold of that fellow, Sharma. Without his jokes it cann’t be a party….”.
She too tells her friends - “Tomorrow? I will let you know in the evening. When Rao comes home, you know…… No, no, I think I can come tomorrow……there is no specific work as such….. I will just inform Rao and …… that’t not a problem ….. Amrutam will pack his lunch ….. After informing Rao……”.
Rao need not control her particularly. Her thoughts of him always control her.
Sometimes she feels that there is hardly any difference between Amrutam and herself. Amrutam and she share the household work. But she needs her permission to eat even a mouthful of rice. If Amrutam wants to give a fruit to her three-year-old son she has to be at her mercy. It is just like the way she pleases Rao to get her things done, Amrutam too pleases her by serving her, by ironing her sarees and by tidying the house much more neatly.
Janaki walked up and down restlessly. In a way Amrutam’s plight is better than hers. When she gets her salary she attends to a few personal matters. She has her own tiny plan as far as her hut is concerned. But in her case, she doesn’t have the power….can she say that ….Okay, she can say that she doesn’t have that possibility. She only nods her head in agreement whatever Rao says.
The phone was ringing. Amrutam picked it up…..”Okay sir. I will fry eggs sir ….. Yes sir…. No sir, it is an hour’s job …. Sir….. It is all right sir …… I can do it. Madam is in the veranda. Shall I call her sir? … Sir …..Sir….”.
Janaki sat down in the sofa. Amrutam calls him sir whereas she would say “….Yes ….okay …… It doesn’t take long ….. It’ll be done in half-an-hour…..”.
For one hour both the ladies would slog in the kitchen and when everything was almost finished, she would go and hurriedly take a bath. She would wear a good saree and get dressed up too well to cover up all her tiredness. Rao would get down from the car majestically along with his friends. Then in the drawing room there would be an outburst of laughter. Spoons and plates would clatter. She would serve them food smiling beautifully. The party would come to a climax with dirty jokes and comments up to a limit. She would get up and walk away with a smile as if she didn’t hear anything. Did she every say, “Don’t ever indulge in dirty talk about women”. Amrutam, in the meanwhile would get exhausted by supplying more and more dishes and by washing them. After what would scam to be an eternity… when the party came to an end, Rao while stretching his hands would say ‘I am tired dear’ and enter the bed room with heavy steps and stretch himself out on the bed. At times he would go overboard and would call her ‘come here dear’ and would get ready to have sex with her with that horrid smelling body. But all this never troubled her …. No…. She made herself rather believe that way. ‘Does comfort or convenience kill the power of thought of a person in this manner?’
‘Madam, we ran out of tea powder. Shall I go and get it?’ asked Amrutam.
Janaki nodded her permission mechanically. Amrutam went out of the gate. Amrutam’s three-year old son was playing in the garden. He would always keep on talking all by himself. He was standing by the compound wall opposite Janaki and was arranging on the wall the colourful stones he had in his hand in a row. When he noticed his mother going out he stretched his hands in her direction and was about to cry. But he did not when he saw that she had already left. When he saw that Janaki was looking at him he showed her the stones he had in his hand and wanted to give them to her. Janaki smiled. She shook her head to tell him that she did not want them. The stones he was arranging on the wall were slipping and falling down as the wall was very smooth. He had an endless patience. He was bending on his knees, picking them up and arranging them again and again.
‘Janaki madam…. Amrutam is dead…’ Standing outside the gate screamed the shopkeeper who owned a small shop down the lane. Janaki got up with a startle and ran out. People were crowded at the end of the lane. It was said that when Amrutam was crossing the road a car came without any honking and knocked her down. Amrutam, who had been working in the kitchen a few minutes ago, was lying dead on the road. Her skull was broken and the red blood was flowing on the road. Janaki could not control herself.
‘Can you give me Mr. Rao’s phone number?’ asked the shopkeeper. With eyes that became dim with tears Janaki was staring at Amrutam – ‘Amrutam who lived with her for six years; Amrutam who had high hopes for her son. When Rao scolded her once that her son was roaming freely all over the house and dirtying it and snatching away biscuits and toys from Chinnatalli’s hand, Amrutam lowered her head and remained silent. After that she never allowed her son to come beyond the front verandah. She would let him play in the garden and look after him with utmost care. It was her self-respect that her son should not be scolded by anyone. She had the caliber to budget her income carefully. She was too good that she never detested her husband for not looking after her. Though he was the one who would go quite frequently out of town for months together, she used to worry about him. Now her lifeless body lies here – ’ Janaki returned home with a heavy heart. Amrutam’s son was still arranging the stones in a row.
What would happen to this kid? How would his father, who never cared for them even when his mother was alive, look after him? Within ten minutes Rao arrived. Everything was arranged over the phone. What else, Rao was highly competent. By the evening Amrutam’s husband came. Standing across the verandah he spoke very softly to Rao who was sitting in a sofa. Rao gave him some money. While closing the door after he had left Rao noticed Amrutam’s son sleeping by the wall.
‘What is this? Why is he here?’
‘He did not recognise his father. He was scared when his father called him’ replied Janaki. It was true. He had seen only Rao and Rao’s friends who would resemble him. He was really taken a back when he saw his father. Amrutam was working until the day before his birth. When the labour pains started, taking the money given by Janaki, Amrutam went to the government hospital in a cycle-rickshaw all by herself. There she went on crying the whole night with pain without anyone to comfort her or to hold her hand with sympathy. In contrast, when Janaki was in labour her mother, mother-in-law, sister-in-law and other relatives were there with her. Amrutam took good care of Janaki. She would tremble whenever Janaki’s face was contorted with pain. When Chinnatalli was born she looked after her with great care. She would not have shown her own son a fraction of the affection she showed Chinnatalli. Everyone, including Rao had seen the little kid with his faltering steps walk behind his mother who was always busy attending to Chinnatalli. Amrutam used to get her hut redone whenever her husband returned from his long tours and would show all concern for him. But still she never left the household work to Janaki. She used to shuttle between her husband and Janaki’s kitchen. Rao had no knowledge about all this.
‘So, what do you want to say? Do you want to adapt him?’
- Why all this talk? It’s not even two hours since Amrutam died. Is this the time to talk about the kid? –
Rao, who was very resourceful, had sent his office attendant half-an-hour ago for a maid and got one already. She was there tidying up the house.
Janaki was not given a chance to speak. Rao told Janaki that she should maintain her dignity. He further said that he couldnot imagine his wife giving a bath and feeding the food to a maid’s son. He went back to the verandah and sent word to the shopkeeper. He was the one who brought Amritam to their house. He introduced her as a good woman whose husband was not in a position to provide for her as his earnings were not enough even to meet his own personal expenditure. Amrutam who had come that day departed now this way….
It seemed that the shopkeeper had already left closing the shop. Rao got up and while coming in gave her a strict warning – ‘Tomorrow morning this kid must leave this place for good’.
Janaki turned off the lights and sat on the floor by the wall in the same room where Amrutam’s son, Bangaru, was fast asleep. He looked tired. Had Amrutam been alive she would have given him a bath making him stand in the garden itself. She would have helped him to put on a clean shirt. She would have chatted with him to sleep. Today there was no such thing. As usual, he played in the garden as long as he could. When it was getting dark he came to the verandah where Chinnatalli was playing. He sat there with a thumb in the mouth. When Janaki had given him some rice mixed with a vegetable to eat, he looked for his mother in every direction. When he did not find her he ate a little by himself smearing it all over his body. Even then did she bother to get up and feed the food to him like how Amrutam would to Chinnatalli? No, nothing of that sort. She gave him a glass of milk thinking that he was not full. He had that milk and slept by the wall after tossing and turning for a long time. His mother’s disappearance did not disturb him much as she would always be busy with her work and would go to him only late at night.
Rao asked for water. He could as well go and get it himself. But she must go and get it for him however busy she was. It would seem that it was Janaki’s right to serve him. He noticed that Janaki was still awake thinking about Amrutam’s son.
‘How many things can I do? I got the body removed within an hour. You have taken upon yourself the responsibility of this kid. Your mind is rusting as it has no work’, he said.
The tumbler in Janaki’s hands was shaken a little.
That was the reward he gave for all her service and devotion.
Amrutam’s son rolled over while talking in his sleep. The blanket got displaced. His tiny tummy could be seen.
“He will play with Chinnatalli. How much food does he need?…. Why don’t you allow him to live with us….” Said Janaki.
Rao turned back.
“Have you gone mad? Don’t entertain such foolish thoughts. Keep shut and sleep….” he shouted at her.
Janaki realised that she had had no chance to say ‘no’ or ‘nothing doing’ to him. What was her role in that house? She understood at that moment that how her life had slipped out of her hands. She lulled her conscience into believing that education was for knowledge. Had she ever thought of standing on her own feet, economic independence and things like that? Perhaps she had deep within herself a parasitic instinct. Perhaps she was lazy by nature and wanted to live freely, without any need to work hard. Rao and she did not discuss the matter in order to take a decision. They both did not decide as to what should be done with the kid. Did she ever get a chance to suggest that how it would be if he was admitted in an orphanage. Just lilke Amrutam she listened to him. That was all. Her role was limited to that….. She started recollecting each day of her life during the past ten years. Hadn’t she seen how Rao had struggled for his career? Did she ever think of herself? Did she ever think that her education should be useful both to herself and the people around her? How she had degraded herself after entering this house as a wife?….. Did she prove that she was equal to Rao in every respect? She herself did not have a strong desire to have an independent life of her own. It was clear to Janaki what she had lost. There was nothing that she did. Even when Rao cracked jokes about other women she felt that she was great and large hearted. That was all. She laughed at herself. If only she had realised the importance of her degree certificates …… If only she remained equal to Rao in this house, she wouldn’t have an occasion to experience all the agony of the present. Janaki again looked at the kid who was fast asleep. He was lying there with his legs stretched freely. Couldn’t she do anything to the sleeping kid? Janaki smiled. At the moment, she too was in the same plight as that fellow. If only she could learn to walk slowly without falling down like him she would gradually pick up speed and run. In her very faltering steps he too would step. Who could stop anything once it gets underway?
-: o : -
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