THE RELATIVE

(A Short Story)

Translated from the original Telugu by the author

CHANDRAMOULI

The siren was hooting at a distance. Sitaratham hurried to wear the chappals. It was already time for the factory, she should be there by now.

A wave of morning sunshine swayed into the room through the window. Ramaiah was groaning painfully lying uneasily on the cot. Sitaratham was in a fix. There was a flutter of uneasiness in her mind. Ramaiah’s body was scorching with fever. It was absolutely impossible for her to take a day off. Otherwise there was no worry at all. She took the pulse beat of Ramaiah, who opened his eyes and looked at her with agony. Sitaratham couldn’t herself. The siren was still ringing in her ears. She was undecided, mentally unprepared to go but physically she was moving towards the door. The grey beard of Ramaiah didn’t attract her attention. She couldn’t bear the books of the cataracted eyes. They were disturbing her.

“So you are going?” Ramaiah didn’t ask her. But, she could see it clearly in his looks.

“I wIll be back early. Paramaiah, the Panshopwallah, would come here to give you company. I will be back soon. It’s already time. I must be going now. The siren has sounded.”

“I can’t take a day off as you know.” She was speaking as though to cover her guilt. Ramaiah lifted his left hand and took the right wrist to feel the pulse, rather self-assuringly. Sitaratham felt a pinch in her heart. He is a timid man, can’t withstand even the slightest discomfiture.

Ramaiah wanted to tell her that she could go. But he didn’t. The chappals on Sitaratham’s feet physically drew her out. She looked back so often, as though she was actually walking back home. No sooner she entered the main road than she realised how late she was. Already, her colleagues were out of sight. The machine would certainly punch a red mark on her card, for the fourth time during this month. The bosses might deduct a fine from her salary. Her thoughts were rolling away as fast as the car tyres. After all it was her fault. They were justified in doing so. In the past, often, she was late, the red mark staring into her face. At once Sitaratham was reminded of Ramaiah. She was anxious about him. Engrossed in her thoughts she ran into a car. Luckily the driver suddenly applied the brakes.

The siren hooted for a second time. She punched the card and came into the shop, her mind restless, filled with anxiety and fear. Her tongue dried up, and was perched to the throat. Her fright was boundless when she got summons from the Badaasaab.

She was sweating awfully. Mopping it with the palla of her saree she entered the office of the Badaasaab, expecting a reprimand. He would ask her an explanation. When she saw him she became pale and lifeless. The Union Secretary was also there. But, what can he do for her? It was all her fault. She greeted them and stood aside.

“See, Mrs. Sitaratham, your service is coming to an end. You shall have to retire shortly. There is one thing I can do for you. I can give a job to one of your kith and kin. There is a month’s time from now,” Badaasaab said.

She was nodding her head, though she understood little. It was not what she was expecting. She went there with a guilty conscience. He didn’t speak about it at all. Even then Sitaratham was depressed. She foresaw a big vacuum in her life. Ramaiah was already out of work. He could work no more to earn a livelihood. Now, she would be soon thrown out of employment. She was afraid of the future, the future which stared into her face. How to meet it was her main concern. Machines were working at top speed. She felt the run of the wheels upon her. Her past recoiled on the wheels.

Forty yeays ago; there lived in a remote village, a girl called Sitaratham. Ramaiah, then, was a stranger to her. Youth started decorating her, showering all its charms. Ramaiah was attracted by her. He expressed it. She disappointed him and brushed him away. But, then he did not give up. He was patient and slowly won her over. His beauty and chivalry filled her mind and heart. It was something unusual. They knew that they were going out of the way. It was impossible. Ramaiah knew it and Sitaratham too. Still, it happened. The caste, which stood in their way, couldn’t bar the union of their hearts. They left the village undetected and came to this far far away city. They were here all these days. Sitaratham recollected her past. She couldn’t understand how she was so much courageous then.

After coming here they willingly forgot what they were and remained what they are; one to the other. She found in him a friend who understood her and was ready to share her life. All these years, only one discontentment raged in her mind; a desire to have a child, to share her love and affection. When she mentioned this to Ramaiah he used to laugh it away saying, “You were born somewhere. Now you are here, giving yourself to a stranger. Still you don’t think the whole world is yours. Aren’t you that much large-hearted my dear?” Sitaratham used to nodd her head blindly, as though she understood him.

The siren hooted and Sitaratham walked out with the others.

When she came home, Ramaiah was lying flat on the cot. There was a bandage to his head. Buchaiah the teenage son of Paramaiah sat by his side. He was telling about something to Ramaiah. Ramaiah was hearing with great interest and was asking questions now and then.

Ramaiah heard the footsteps and asked Buchaiah who it was. By then Sitaratham entered the house. Buchaiah got up and said, “I shall be back again uncle.” “Stay on, you fellow. What the hell are you going to do?” Ramaiah insisted. Buchaiah looked at Sitaratham from the corners of his eyes and sat down. Buchaiah was unemployed and so was disliked by one and all in the locality. Sitaratham herself showerd abuses on him so often. So, Buchaiah didn’t feel comfortable in her presence.

Sitaratham came straight to Ramaiah’s cot; stroking his forehead affectionately she said, “Why this bandage?”

“Nothing serious” Ramaiah was evasive. Seeing the blood stains on the bandage she asked Buchaiah in an anxious tone, “What happened?”

Ramaiah had no other go. “Nothing particular. Just a slight slip on the door. Our Buchaiah helped me up,” he explained casually.

“But why did you have to get up?” Sitaratham queried him disapprovingly. Ramaiah didn’t reply. He looked into her eyes.

After a while he said: “Get up. Have your food, you would be late.”

She rose and went into the kitchen. Though she sat before the ‘Thali’ she could hardly eat. She drank two glasses of water, and wiped her eyelids.

She wanted to talk many things to Ramaiah. She wanted to sit by his side to while away time in conversation. She wanted to be left alone with him. But, Buchaiah was there. He won’t go. Irritated she came on to the verandah. She wanted to stay away at home. Bringing a stool she placed it near the cot and sat on it.

Ramaiah was all the while observing her movements. When she finally sat down, he enquired, “Won’t you go to work?” Sitaratham looked at him searchingly. “Get up, it’s already time.” Ramaiah was goading her. She stared at him, and said “No...I won’t go.”

“But why? Our Buchi is here to look after me. Why take an off?” Ramaiah was persuading her. Sitaratham felt insulted. That was it. He prefers Buchaiah to me, he needs him more. There was a sudden rage mounting up in her. She got up, wore the chappals and walked away even without caring to look back.

The news about Sitaratham’s ensuing retirement spread like wild fire, and she became an important person. She can get a job to one of her kith and kin. The factory was a well established one paying decent wages.

Coolies started coming daily to enquire about Ramaiah’s health unusually. After a word or two, they requested Sitaratham to propose their son for the job. Sitaratham was undecided. She had none of her own.

“Please help us, sister. Suggest my brother’s name.” Someone else requested. She was still in a, fix. Ramaiah didn’t give his advice.

As days rolled by people became restless. They started offering money, not a small amount at that. One of them offered three hundred rupees if she called their son her heir. When they mentioned money Sitaratham’s face lighted up. She had no candidate of her own. Why not make use of this golden chance?

Indecision raised the offer. “I shall give you fifteen hundred rupees, if only...you name my boy.” Sitaratham was undecided. She couldn’t resist the temptation. The day of her retirement was also drawing near. She couldn’t postpone her decision any longer.

Ramaiah was having his supper. That was the opportune time for her to raise this issue.

“What is your opinion?” She asked him, fixing meals for herself. “What?” he asked shifting his looks from the Thali towards her. “About my job. If we demand, I think we can make two thousands at least. We can live without any worry about the future, otherwise….” Ramaiah smiled at her, meaningfully. It was as though he could guess her thoughts. “See, my dear Rathalu, can’t we live without those two thousand rupees? Just for that money you would call somebody’s boy your own son. Is it? Even for thousands more would he be ours? You are a simpleton. It is the affection that counts; not the money. If you want money, name Buchaiah as your dependent. I shall give you those two thousand rupees.” Sitaratham wanted to say something and was hesitant. “I shall give two thousand rupees more from my Provident Fund,” Ramaiah added. Sitaratham turned her looks from Ramaiah and bent her head.

Till supper was over, none of them spoke. Ramaiah washed his hands and brushed with the dhotie. While he was about to light his cigar he felt that he had hurt her feelings. “Out of affection to Buchaiah, I just said this. Don’t you worry. You better elect your own candidate,” he said.

Sitaratham looked at him for a while and said, with a smile, “If he is your boy, won’t he be mine!”

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